《The Morgulon - Werewolves, Hunters, War and Politics》


 Chapter 1

    It was going to be a perfect night for hunting werewolves. All the experienced hunters kept saying so, and Greg really hoped they weren¡¯t just putting lipstick on a pig. Nothing else had been going right about this hunt so far, it would be nice if at least the weather held.


    The cold made his fingers shake. That¡¯s what he told himself. He wrapped his arms around himself and stared up. The setting sun turned the winter-sky a gorgeous orange. The full moon was rising just above the trees that glittered silver with frost. Storm Moon, that was its name according to Greg¡¯s almanack. There was no storm in sight tonight, though¡ªonly a few cloudy wisps, and the plume of his own breath precipitating in the cold air.


    He stamped his feet to keep the blood flowing. The ground was frozen solid, and there was no snow, so the horses would be able to run freely.


    But so would the werewolves.


    ¡°Nervous?¡±


    Greg jumped when his father stopped next to him, but managed to turn it into a shrug. ¡°Nah,¡± he claimed.


    He was pretty sure Bram didn¡¯t believe him. The Old Man, the other hunters called him, or Old Man Feleke. Few used his real title, Baron of Courtenay. That sort of nobility didn''t hold much weight here. But an old man in a profession where people usually died young? That commanded respect.


    Bram¡¯s appearance didn¡¯t, not at a first glance. He was a good bit shorter than Greg, and wiry like a jockey. Decades of hunting the most dangerous game imaginable under all weather conditions had lined the dark skin of his face like the bark of a tree, and he had the same quiet strength as an oak. His dark, nearly black eyes pierced Greg¡¯s bravado easily.


    ¡°Remember your position?¡±


    ¡°Andrew¡¯s position.¡± Greg shifted his weight uncomfortably. It still grated¡ªthat he was only allowed to participate as an afterthought¡ªbecause one of his brothers had been injured during the preparations.


    Bram continued to look at him expectantly.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be a beater,¡± Greg relented. ¡°And I¡¯ve seen Andrew and Nathan do it a million times.¡±


    Bram looked over his shoulder at the camp of werewolf hunters. ¡°That seems unlikely,¡± he said. ¡°As neither of them has ever participated in a hunt this big. And it is quite different, to be part of the line, rather than watching from the outside.¡±


    Thanks for rubbing it in. Greg didn¡¯t dare to say it aloud, though he was sure his expression gave him away.


    ¡°Well?¡± his father prompted patiently. ¡°What does Andrew¡¯s position entail?¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes at the question, though he ducked his head so Bram wouldn¡¯t see. He had practised for this since he could mount a horse, had sat on his mother¡¯s knees even earlier, listening to the accounts after every hunt¡ªnot just after successful ones, but failures, too. Did Bram really think he¡¯d forget, tonight of all nights?


    ¡°I ride in with the other beaters, I make a lot of noise, we drive the monsters out of the forest, up to the cliff, into the killing zone.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°I make sure I don¡¯t fall behind, I make sure I don¡¯t ride ahead, I keep the distance to the other beaters even, I make sure I don¡¯t lose sight of them. I never, ever leave my place within the line. I take good care of Dolly, or Andrew will roast me alive.¡±


    ¡°You will have to take that up with your brother,¡± Bram said with an easy grin. He was looking at something past Greg.


    ¡°What about me?¡± Andrew asked from behind him.


    Greg jumped again, but Bram was unperturbed. ¡°Greg is worried about what you will do to him should he let anything happen to your horse.¡±


    ¡°As he should be,¡± Andrew said, but he was grinning as he did, his teeth bright against his dark skin. Andrew was the second oldest of Greg¡¯s brothers, nine years older and with a decade of hunting werewolves under his belt.


    Greg still glared at him at his next words: ¡°You take good care of Dolly, and she¡¯ll keep your green arse safe in there.¡±


    Andrew waved vaguely with his good hand towards the forest. As if on cue, a single, echoing howl rose from amongst the trees.


    Greg couldn¡¯t help but wonder if the monsters were aware that the Feleke Four were coming for them. He kept that thought to himself though; he couldn¡¯t really claim that title. Andrew would just laugh at him, and he didn¡¯t even want to imagine what his father would think.


    Maybe it would become true, though, soon. Andrew was going to leave the team in summer, to go to university. Then, the Feleke Four would be three, unless they finally allowed Greg to join the family business.


    As a second werewolf joined in, Bram asked: ¡°How are the preparations coming along?¡±


    ¡°Nathan is going to shoot Little Roy within the next half an hour,¡± Andrew reported. ¡°If Lady deLande doesn¡¯t beat him to it. You might want to get in there, before David decides he¡¯d rather deal with the monsters than the people. We¡¯ll have a fight about the bounty if he kills them all on his own.¡±


    ¡°I was counting on you to stop him,¡± Bram said.


    ¡°I¡¯m flattered by your confidence in me, Sir, but I think it would be better if I take Greg to get ready and you go and deal with the madhouse.¡±


    Greg tried not to show his disappointment when his father turned to look at him. He¡¯d hoped that his first ever hunt would warrant his father being there when he got ready.


    ¡°You know, I think David will be able to keep it together for a few more minutes,¡± Bram replied after a moment.


    They walked back towards their camp together, Greg between Bram and Andrew, the latter whom was fiddling with his jacket. His right arm was broken, and the sling made it impossible to get it through the sleeves, so the jacket kept sliding off Andrew¡¯s shoulders. Greg stared down at the dark brown skin of his own right hand. He felt a little bad about it, but secretly he was glad about Andrew¡¯s injury: finally, a chance to prove himself, to prove that he could do the job, that he wasn¡¯t a little boy anymore. He was seventeen, for Mithras¡¯s sake!


    And he was thoroughly sick of staying behind and guarding the camp.


    It was a much bigger camp today, about twenty tents. About half the participants camped right here. Greg recognized most of the faces. They were all professional hunters, and even in Loegrion, there weren''t that many people who made their living only by killing werewolves. They tended to know each other.


    The other half of the crew was still arriving from the surrounding villages, and being thoroughly scrutinised: most of them were farmers or fortune seekers, hired to complete the line of beaters.


    Greg could see his eldest brother David, directing the newcomers on where to put their horses and answering questions, generally trying to keep things organised. Yelling over a crowd didn''t come naturally to him. Greg could hear the strain in his voice.


    Bram had no doubt heard it, too, but he cut through the chaos to where their own tents were pitched without another glance.


    Greg wished he had the same calm as he reached for his gear. His fingers felt stiff and he didn''t quite trust his own grip as he put on his boots and batwings¡ªlong leggings made of hard leather, that went over his breeches to protect his legs against the underbrush of the forest. His jacket was made from equally strong leather, not meant, as David¡¯s voice kept repeating in his head, to repel a werewolf¡¯s teeth.


    ¡°They get you, you¡¯re dead,¡± he muttered to himself, trying to mimic the way David would say it.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Bram asked.


    ¡°Nothing, Sir.¡±


    The last layer of clothes was a cape made from a cheap white cover that should tear rather than catch on anything. The idea was that the white colour would make Greg more visible to the shooters of the hunting party, and hopefully confuse a werewolf about the actual shape of his body underneath the cape, so that if he did get bitten, all the werewolf would get was a mouthful of linen.


    Greg just hoped that he wouldn¡¯t set himself on fire, once it was time to light his torch. Although that would certainly make him highly visible, and the fire probably would scare away any monsters too.


    He looked thoroughly ridiculous.


    So would all the other beaters, he reminded himself. He already felt sweaty, despite the frost.


    ¡°Ready?¡± his father asked. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t help David out.¡±


    Greg would have preferred to stay right where he was, but nodded, not quite trusting his voice.


    ¡°Deep breaths,¡± Bram said. ¡°Everyone gets the jitters at their first time.¡±


    Wasn¡¯t that encouraging.


    David was by now standing on top of the supply cart, one hand resting on the hilt of his rapier, listening to some grievance the man standing in front of him had. Nathan sat next to his feet, legs swinging wildly and threatening to kick anyone who came too close.


    ¡°Mr. Desantis,¡± Bram said, approaching the man who appeared to be getting on David¡¯s last nerve. ¡°I trust you are ready for this hunt?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course, Your Lordship,¡± the man replied. ¡°I was just saying¡ª¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Bram cut him off. ¡°It¡¯s time to go over the plan, now that everyone is finally here.¡±


    He looked at Nathan, who promptly jumped off the cart and reached for his horn, to call all hunters together. David followed him down more slowly, still glaring at Desantis as everyone else gathered around.


    Greg barely heard what his father had to say about the plan. He had been there when Bram had hashed out all the details with David, and besides, there was a woman standing right next to them, the only woman in the whole of Loegrion who hunted werewolves: Countess Lane deLande. She was of Valoisian nobility, but with her fair skin and hair, she could have easily passed as a native Loegrian. She was tall for a woman, as tall as Bram, and wore the same huge white sheet as Greg over her leather skirts, which made it hard to say more about her figure.


    The men still stared, of course, though not for the reasons they might stare at other women: They said that she had once killed three werewolves in one night, all on her own. That she never lost a trail, that she never stopped once she was on the hunt until the prey was dead. They said she still hunted the werewolf that had killed her father, ten years ago. They said if anyone could bring down the Morgulon, it was her.


    They said that her husband had died just a month after their wedding, and the last man who had tried to flirt with her had simply disappeared.


    Tonight, the Countess was relegated to leading the team of beaters, over thirty men in total. Greg shuddered when he looked around the sea of white capes. This hunting party was huge.


    Normally, it was just his father, David, Andrew, and Nathan, the famous ¡°Feleke Four.¡± No designated beaters, or at most some local chaps from the affected village out for revenge. Other hunters were competitors, not comrades.


    But normally, werewolves travelled alone, or in pairs of two. Every now and then, there would be packs of three, and very rarely, four.


    Tonight, there were six.


    In a moment, Bram and the other shooters would mount their horses and make for the killing zone down at the waterfront, where the coastline swung around a steep cliff. If everything went as planned¡ªif the team of beaters did their job¡ªthe werewolves would be driven out of the forest, and up to the bluff, which would cut off their escape in three directions. There the shooters would wait for them. Theirs was the most dangerous job: to kill the monsters before they could realise they were trapped.


    Greg was just a beater. If all went according to plan, he wouldn¡¯t even see a werewolf. Still, his heartbeat sped up as Bram finished.


    ¡°All right!¡± David took over, face grim. ¡°Line up and get your torches, beaters. Do not light them before you¡¯re in position. You each get three, and trust me, you don¡¯t want to be in that forest without a flame.¡±


    He and Nathan distributed torches and whistles for the beaters who didn¡¯t have them already. When it was Greg¡¯s turn, David told him to wait. Greg bit his lips and rubbed his hands nervously. Nobody had been more opposed to him taking Andrew¡¯s place than his oldest brother.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    When it was finally his turn, David held out his hands. ¡°Let me see your crossbow.¡±


    Greg opened his mouth to complain, thought better of it, and just handed over the weapon. He did know how to load one, thank you very much. But that was David for you.


    ¡°Want to see the quiver, too?¡± Greg asked sweetly.


    David ignored that question, checking the weapon over with quick, experienced motions before handing it back.


    ¡°If you want some advice? Make sure you don¡¯t need this.¡±


    He paused, and for a second Greg thought David would call him out for rolling his eyes at him, but instead his oldest brother continued:


    ¡°It¡¯s not that I think you can¡¯t shoot; I know you can, I taught you. But it¡¯s too dark underneath the trees. If you can see it well enough to shoot it, the monster is already way too close. As soon as the action starts, Dolly is your best chance.¡±


    ¡°I know!¡± Greg growled, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. ¡°I¡¯m not stupid, you know? And it¡¯s not like we¡¯re hunting the Morgulon! I¡¯ve watched you all do this for years, and I¡¯m much older than the rest of you were when you started! All I got to do is ride with the other beaters and make a lot of noise. It¡¯s not that complicated!¡±


    David just heaved a sigh and ran a hand through the tightly braided curls of his hair. Just as Greg thought his brother would simply ignore his outburst, David grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around, pushing him past the cart and towards the edge of the camp where the other shooters were mounting their horses.


    ¡°When was the last time you have seen us work with so many hunters?¡± David asked.


    And before Greg could say anything, he added: ¡°When was the last time we went after six, six werewolves in one night?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Greg admitted.


    ¡°Eight years ago,¡± David said curtly. ¡°And we lost a half dozen people that night¡ªexperienced people, all of them. It was a mess. And this looks like it¡¯s going to be an even bigger mess, Morgulon or not. We wouldn¡¯t even be here, if the Church hadn¡¯t ordered father in to ¡®fix this¡¯. All it takes is for one werewolf to slip through the line, and half the beaters are dead. I would rather prefer it if you weren¡¯t one of them.¡±


    He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but there was another horn call. ¡°Look, I have to go, Greg. Just¡ªpromise to be careful.¡±


    ¡°I promise,¡± Greg muttered. Mostly to get David to leave him alone.


    DeLande stared after the departing shooters with what Greg was pretty sure was envy. After a few seconds, she seemed to realise that the beaters were all staring at her because she huffed and turned back to face them.


    ¡°You heard Baron Feleke,¡± she said, in a clear voice that carried well. ¡°Let¡¯s get in there, drive them out, get this done. Don¡¯t get cocky, and stick to your positions. These monsters have already killed over a dozen people, let¡¯s not make it any more. Now, get your horses and take your positions. Do not, I really shouldn¡¯t have to repeat this, do not enter the forest before I give the signal. May Mithras be with us tonight.¡±


    When she turned away, Greg jogged off, as fast as his riding boots allowed, and realised his mistake a moment later. No one else seemed to be in a hurry. When he reached the horses, Andrew grinned at him.


    ¡°Can¡¯t wait to get started, huh?¡±


    Somehow, he had managed to get the bridle over Dolly''s head, even with just one good arm. All Greg had to do was fasten the buckles and get the saddle on the mare''s back. Andrew watched his every move as he tightened the saddle strap while patting Dolly¡¯s nose in an absentminded way.


    As much as it irked him, Greg could at least understand Andrew¡¯s worry. Dolly was an exceptionally fine mare, a little over fourteen hands high, with the thick, dark chestnut coloured coat and all over built of a mountain pony, the strength of a draught horse, but all the fire, agility, and speed of a thoroughbred. Andrew had hand-raised her from filly and trained her for years. Greg could only hope that he would one day find a horse half as good.


    And if he ever did, he would most certainly give it a better name than Dolly.


    He thought he saw approval on Andrew¡¯s face when he bent down to run a hand over Dolly¡¯s legs and checked her hooves. His brother held the reins while he climbed onto her back, petted her nose one last time, and then said: ¡°Good luck.¡±


    Greg wasn¡¯t sure whether he meant him or the horse, but he clicked his tongue, and they got moving.


    As soon as Andrew was out of sight, Dolly started prancing under Greg¡¯s hands, as if she knew that this was his first hunt. Or maybe she just sensed his nerves. His heart was beating high in his throat when he stopped her at his assigned place at the forest¡¯s edge.


    He was the first one getting into position, and he really wished he had taken his time like everyone else. There might be a werewolf right in front of him, hidden in the shadows of the conifers. His fingers danced nervously over the pistol at his hip.


    His father would frown if he knew that Greg had brought it. In Bram¡¯s opinion, pistols were far too unreliable for this kind of hunting, and too loud to boot. Greg disagreed¡ªhis was a state of the art cap lock pistol, which would fire under any weather conditions, even in the rain. And sure, it was loud, but then again, you didn¡¯t need to worry about alarming the prey, if it went down at the first shot, did you?


    He sighed softly and pulled his hand back. Tonight, scaring the prey too early would be a huge problem.


    ¡°Don¡¯t screw this up, don¡¯t screw this up,¡± he hummed to himself in a low singsong.


    Dolly¡¯s ears flicked in his direction, then back towards the forest again. She shifted her weight uneasily, pawing the ground.


    ¡°Easy, girl¡±, Greg went on in what he hoped was a soothing voice. ¡°We¡¯ll be okay. We¡¯ll be careful, yes? Andrew¡¯s gonna kill me dead if you get hurt, never mind if the werewolf gets me first, so don¡¯t you worry, we¡¯ll be fine¡­¡±


    He didn¡¯t quite manage to calm her down, or himself for that matter. He hadn¡¯t realised that they would have to wait this long.


    He checked the double-crossbow again, to make sure there was a quarrel cocked in each of the nuts. As if David would ever mess up a crossbow.


    Part of him wondered how much longer they would be using crossbows. Everyone else was using firearms these days. Sure, the double-crossbow had a higher rate of fire, but it just didn¡¯t pack the punch a pistol had.


    Of course, there was always the price issue. A silver-covered bolt could usually be reused, whereas bullets tended to deform within the body.


    Greg shook his head and folded his hands over the pommel of the saddle to keep them still. David would say this was just like him, always going on about things completely unrelated to the matter at hand. In a few moments, the sun would be completely gone and he would have to be focused, calm, the beasts would smell his fear, and any mistake could mean death, his death or someone else¡¯s. He needed to be calm, he was a hunter, not a kid, not a scared little squirrel, he was¡­


    Completely unable to get his head together, apparently.


    Greg took a deep breath. It didn¡¯t really help, but there, finally, was Nathan taking the place to his right. Just a moment later he saw Lane deLande. Greg watched her stop at the beater to his left. He couldn¡¯t quite hear what she said. After a moment the man repositioned himself several yards closer to Greg. DeLande glared at Greg when she came by and shook her head. She didn¡¯t say anything, but it was pretty clear that she shared David¡¯s worries about his inexperience.


    Maybe, just maybe, if he did his job tonight, his father would finally believe that he could be trusted to do the job.


    If the monsters didn¡¯t get him.


    Greg fidgeted with one of his unlit torches when down at the cliff a horn was blown again. He almost dropped the torch. From the other direction, in the closest village, he could just barely hear the frantic tolling of a bell.


    Sundown. Sundown on full moon.


    Was he supposed to light his first torch right away, or wait for the second signal? But could he light one after they had started riding?


    Greg looked nervously over to his right and saw that Nathan had already lit his, so Greg hurried to set his own torch ablaze. His lucifer matches flared up violently and then almost guttered out again. His hands were shaking when he brought the tiny flame to the coarse hessian of his torch. The material had barely caught fire when the Go signal came from deLande.


    And in they went, as fast as the horses could go, hopefully surprising any werewolf lurking nearby. Bare branches snapped across Greg¡¯s face and he had to duck low over Dolly¡¯s neck, almost losing his torch. Between the blazing flames and the shadows underneath the conifers he could see absolutely nothing, could only trust in his mare¡¯s footing, could only hope that the fire and thundering hooves, snapping branches, whistles and shouts would send the monsters running in the other direction. He tried to straighten up, get a look around, and caught another twig like a whip across the face.


    Ducking low, he managed to peek through underneath his right arm and was infinitely glad to see Nathan there. Dolly apparently knew what to do much better than he did, keeping him at his place in the line. As long as there were beaters to his right and left, he was as safe as it was possible to be in a forest with six werewolves on a full moon night. Emboldened, he swung his torch and screamed, half panicked and half defiant.


    A tiny bit of joy was also in there.


    He was doing it. He was on the hunt, part of the team, finally.


    He didn¡¯t even attempt to steer Dolly, since the mare seemed to know the way so well, and concentrated on orienting himself. He was still¡ªmore or less¡ªat his place in the line of beaters, but he was pretty sure that they had spread out further than they were supposed to. Somewhere to his left, Greg thought he could hear Lane deLande shouting.


    He glanced over to Nathan again. He could see both his brother and the beater beyond him, but when he looked over to his left, there was just a group of pines there. The next man was probably hidden behind them. Hopefully.


    There was no sign of the werewolves. Was that normal?


    Of course, they had a lot of ground to cover, and they couldn¡¯t have made more than a mile yet. They might not have reached the monsters yet, and it was just as possible that the creatures with their inhuman hearing were way ahead of them. Maybe they had already reached the coast. They might even already be dead.


    But Greg was pretty sure that that was just wishful thinking. He tried very hard not to think of the other possibility. Maybe one of the creatures had heard them coming and instead of running, had stayed hidden in the brush, had found a loophole in the line of torches, which had stretched too far. Maybe one of the monsters was right behind him.


    Greg swung his torch wider, swung it right through a dark patch of a thicket. A few leaves from last year sizzled in the flame, but the wood was too wet for a forest fire. Greg yelled again with fear and excitement when Dolly suddenly jumped a fallen tree. He almost dismounted over her neck at the landing. When she slowed down, going up a small hill, Greg reached for the reins for the first time, holding her back even more. He could see from the corner of his eyes that Nathan had slowed as well. In an easy trot, they moved on, Greg up on the small ridge, Nathan down at its base. He still didn¡¯t see the man who was supposed to be on his left, although there were only the bare trunks of broadleaved trees there now.


    He did hear voices shouting all around, and they sounded bold and confident rather than panicked, so it was probably all right.


    And then he heard the howl, the howl of at least one werewolf, echoing through the woods. He shrieked in answer. His heart seemed determined to hammer its way out of his ribcage, but it was almost a good kind of fear. He finally felt like he was getting the hang of this. He brandished his torch again, and then lit a second one from the first, swinging them with both arms while nudging Dolly just a little. Her ears flicked, and she stretched herself willingly.


    Greg threw a look over his right shoulder to check that he didn¡¯t go too fast. Nathan had fallen a couple of yards behind but was coming along, while the rider next in line was ahead of Greg. Suddenly the man stopped his horse, screaming like mad, and fired a pistol shot into the air. When the echo died away, Greg heard another howl, further away, as it seemed to him.


    There was still no one on his left side, even though the beaters should be tightening the noose by now. Greg did hear more shots being fired on that side, people screaming, too, and he felt like he couldn¡¯t breathe properly. A heavy weight settled into his stomach, and he was so distracted that he caught another twig across the face.


    What was going on over there?


    Dolly nickered nervously, and Greg stared ahead into the darkness of the forest with all his might.


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave your spot,¡± his family had warned him. ¡°Don¡¯t abandon your position, but for flame¡¯s sake¡ªwhatever you do, don¡¯t get yourself killed.¡±


    Greg swallowed hard. It was easy to get killed while hunting werewolves, and that wasn¡¯t even the worst that could happen. Huntsmen didn¡¯t often talk about it, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that every full moon some men set out to kill the monsters, and instead came back monsters themselves.


    Another shot rang out to his left, and a soft cry of relief escaped Greg¡¯s lips. He could finally see someone over there, flickering torches and the white shadow of their stupid capes. He couldn¡¯t tell if it was the beater who was supposed to be right next to him or if someone else had closed the ranks, but right now he really didn¡¯t care either way.


    Dolly¡¯s breath was starting to get laboured now, her snorting so loud Greg could hear it even over the noise of the hunt around them. Greg cursed himself inwardly. The hunt was not over yet, it just wouldn¡¯t do to wind her too much before they were safe.


    So he slowed her down again, even though that meant falling behind his position a few lengths. Not so much that he couldn¡¯t see the torches of the other beaters, but enough to give his steed some time to catch her breath. Get his own wits together too, maybe.


    He needn¡¯t have worried about leaving his position. Nathan and the man further to his right slowed down as well and began beating the bushes and evergreens furiously with their torches, weaving right and left in their attempt to search any shrub big enough to hide a rabbit.


    Greg followed suit, feeling a little stupid. He was pretty sure that none of the thickets around him were big enough to hide a werewolf. On the other hand, he didn¡¯t want Nathan to tell their father that he had just been tagging along, taking Dolly for a stroll. Maybe he should check that group of conifers over there?


    He nudged Dolly over to where several fir trees stood together in a tight group. The mare threw her head left and right and nickered so loudly that Greg could just barely hear Nathan call his name.


    ¡°Now what?¡± he muttered to himself, but he stopped Dolly and turned around to see what his brother wanted.


    Nathan waved at him frantically and yelled something Greg couldn¡¯t understand because suddenly people seemed to be shouting everywhere. Nathan reached for his crossbow, and the rider beyond him fired his pistol. Straight at Greg. He could have sworn he felt the bullet go right past his face.


    Dolly nickered again, and before Greg could make sense of what was going on, she was bucking under him, taking off at a full sprint. Something huge slammed into her before she had made more than three jumps, sending her tumbling. Greg lost his hold in the saddle and went flying, landing flat on his back. All the air was pressed out of his lungs, and he just lay there for several long seconds, blinking stupidly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Dolly struggling to get back onto her feet. Her eyes were rolling, showing the white, and there was foam around her muzzle.


    Greg tried to turn over, to get up himself, to take the mare¡¯s reins, and lead her to safety. Andrew would murder him if anything happened to her¡­


    Hot, reeking breath blew into his face, and Greg slowly turned his head.


    The werewolf¡¯s nose was just inches away from his neck, the teeth bared, huge rolling eyes showing the white. Spit dripped down onto Greg¡¯s cheek. He just blinked in shocked confusion.


    There was a weird sound on his other side, a sort of high-pitched wailing, and it took Greg forever to realise that it was coming from Dolly. The mare had risen to her hind legs, front hooves swinging wildly in the direction of the werewolf. She came down hard; her large, ironclad feet stomped down just inches away from Greg¡¯s face, but he was too groggy to even flinch. She whirled around on her forehand and kicked out, forcing the monster away from Greg.


    He slowly managed to roll over, away from where Dolly was still fighting the werewolf. They were the same size, and their fight had a strange elegance to it, like a dance.


    One of Dolly¡¯s horseshoes missed Greg¡¯s fingers by inches, and he pulled them away instinctively. The small movement seemed to finally clear his head a little. Suddenly he thought he could hear David yelling at him:


    ¡°Get up, get away, get back in the saddle!¡±


    They had practised this hundreds, if not thousands of times. He rolled out from under the bristling mare, found his feet, and managed to get a grip on the saddle horn. At once, Dolly retreated backwards from the werewolf, and he jumped back into the saddle. Without even thinking about it, Greg whipped out his pistol and fired a shot right at the huge head full of gleaming cursed teeth.


    The lead bullet took out one of the werewolf¡¯s eyes, and the monster threw itself around. Greg didn¡¯t have to tell Dolly to put some ground between them and the creature. He put the pistol away and reached for the crossbow. Aiming was instinct; David would have been proud if he could have seen him. The silver bolt sank home cleanly between two ribs, and the werewolf went down.


    Greg had just enough time to congratulate himself on his clean shot when he was knocked out of the saddle a second time. Dolly went down hard, right on Greg¡¯s left leg. He could feel a bone snap, and his vision greyed out.

 Chapter 2

    Pain brought Greg back to his senses. Someone was dragging him, sending waves of hurt through his whole body. When Greg¡¯s vision cleared, all he could see were teeth, and red gums, and a huge tongue. The werewolf had gotten a whole mouthful of his white overcoat, just like it was supposed to. But with Greg¡¯s rotten luck, of course, the material wasn¡¯t tearing.


    Greg could hear the blood rushing in his ears. When he struggled weakly, the werewolf started shaking its head violently, to shake the life out of him, yet still, the white fabric didn¡¯t rip. Greg wanted to scream with the pain, but there was no breath left in his lungs. There was no rational thought in his head when he wriggled and struggled to get out of the cape. His arms came free easily, but he couldn¡¯t get his head out. The way the werewolf had grabbed the fabric was choking him.


    Finally, his searching fingers found his knife, and he started hacking blindly at the white linen until he slipped out. He couldn¡¯t even feel his leg when he threw himself around, rolling over two, three, four times, desperate to put some space between himself and the monster.


    He could still hear David¡¯s voice in his head, yelling instructions at him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t roll too far, you¡¯ll just get dizzy,¡± so he pushed himself up onto his forearms, and tried to get to his feet. The white cloth had caught on a large branch on the ground, and the werewolf was ripping and rending at it, apparently not even noticing that Greg had slipped away.


    A horse moved into his field of view, a dark grey one, and a crossbow sang. With a whimper, the werewolf went down. Lane deLande jumped out of the saddle. One hand kept her crossbow pointed at the monster, the other hand held a knife. Carefully, she stepped closer, bent down, and in one swift motion, she cut its throat.


    Then her crossbow swung around, right at Greg.


    ¡°Drop it,¡± deLande ordered curtly.


    It took Greg forever to realise that she meant the knife his fingers were still cramped around. He considered refusing, but the soft voice of reason pointed out that arguing with a loaded crossbow was a bad idea.


    It was suddenly very, very quiet underneath the trees when he pulled his hand away from the knife. Greg looked around in confusion, noticing two more beaters who were holding on to Nathan with both hands.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± Lane deLande said, her crossbow never wavering away from his face.


    Slowly, hesitantly, a man Greg had never met before stepped closer and kneeled down next to him. A second guy with a torch stood over them. Slowly, carefully, the kneeling man examined Greg¡¯s neck and checked his leather jacket for damage. Next, Greg was turned onto his back. It took the stranger forever to go over the injuries in Greg¡¯s face, where the twigs had slapped him. He pressed a silver blade against each of them, over and over, and then made the guy with the torch come closer to get a second opinion. Greg didn''t dare move a finger. Finally, the man continued onto his neck and then down the front of his jacket, his arms.


    ¡°He¡¯s clear,¡± he finally announced.


    Greg released a breath he had not realised he¡¯d been holding.


    Clear. The werewolves hadn¡¯t scratched him. He would be okay.


    DeLande lowered her crossbow rather hesitantly, scrutinising Greg with her own bright blue eyes. With a huff, she turned away and waved at the two men holding Nathan. When they let him go, Nathan jumped to Greg¡¯s side, propping his head up on his knee. He was talking, but Greg was too numb to understand a word. He was dimly aware that someone was leaning over Dolly, holding a knife, and he tried to get up again. He needed to help, needed to get over there, but there was no way his leg would carry him. The knife flashed, and then the horse stilled. Greg tried to blink against the tears and was surprised and relieved to see Dolly climb to her feet.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Nathan said, who must have followed his gaze. ¡°They just needed to cut the reins, she was tangled up in the reins, she¡¯ll be fine, sheesh, Greg, you¡¯re such an idiot sometimes¡­¡±


    Greg let the words wash over him. Most of the beaters were already leaving again, led by deLande. Only Nathan and the two who had checked him over remained, crossbows at the ready, but now facing the dark forest.


    After a while, the cold and the pain dragged him under.


    ***


    When Greg came back to his senses, he was still lying on the ground. It took him a few seconds to understand that he was back at the camp. Someone had wrapped him in blankets, and there was a fire just a couple of yards away, but his feet were cold anyway. His whole left leg was a dull, throbbing ache. The cuts on his face smarted, too. He grunted softly and turned his face to look away from the flames. He could see the glow of a couple of more campfires, and the shadows of people sitting around them. Their voices were too quiet to catch. Horses stamped unseen, and tarps flapped in the wind, but the mood in camp seemed subdued.


    Where was his family? At the very least he would have expected Andrew to be there, to yell at him for putting Dolly in danger.


    He turned his head back towards the fire right next to him. Beyond the flickering flames, all he could see was darkness.


    Just as he wondered if he should call out for someone¡ªanyone, really¡ªhe heard people coming closer, several pairs of heavy boots and a whispered argument. They stopped on the other side of the fire. At least one of them was still wearing the ridiculous white cape. Greg heard Nathan growl:


    ¡°Just let her have a look, David. They checked him out, I had a look myself, he¡¯s fine. If it makes her happy, let her waste her time.¡±


    Greg blinked. The person in the white cape turned out to be Lane deLande, not Nathan. She was flanked by his brothers, though. David¡¯s fingers played with Greg¡¯s pistol when deLande kneeled down, in a crouch that would allow her to get up again quickly.


    ¡°I want to see those scrapes,¡± she said, and David interrupted: ¡°You don¡¯t have to. This is stupid.¡±


    Greg looked up towards Nathan since David¡¯s gaze was fixed firmly on deLande. The youngest of his brothers rolled his eyes at him and shrugged.


    Greg had to clear his throat and start over before he managed: ¡°I got nowhere else to go tonight.¡±


    Which at least brought the ghost of a smile to Nathan¡¯s lips.


    So Lane deLande reached for his chin and turned it towards the fire, staring at his skin intently. Her fingers were as cold as Greg felt, making the touch even more uncomfortable. Greg had never been this close to a woman who wasn¡¯t his mother, and after a few seconds, he closed his eyes. He heard David hiss, and then he felt cold metal on his skin. Had to be the silver blade she had cut the werewolf¡¯s throat with.


    ¡°What happened to your face?¡± deLande wanted to know.


    ¡°Just some twigs,¡± Greg said, and let her turn his head a little more so that she could put the icy blade against his neck. Was this what the cow felt like before the butcher cut its throat?


    Finally, deLande grunted and got to her feet again and Greg blinked.


    ¡°Happy?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Not really,¡± the huntress replied, though he saw her put the knife away.


    ¡°Your skin is too dark,¡± deLande went on. ¡°Makes it really hard to tell whether it reddens or not, when the silver touches it. Especially in this light. You should better keep an eye on him,¡± she added in David¡¯s direction, who did not go for her throat, although Greg could see that it was a close thing.


    ¡°Of course, Lady Inquisitor,¡± Nathan griped.


    DeLande glared at him, but finally left.


    ¡°Well, that was fun,¡± Greg muttered.


    ¡°You,¡± David started, stopped, and dropped to the ground. ¡°You are so ridiculously lucky, do you even understand that?¡±


    Nathan settled down next to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m too pretty to die,¡± Greg replied, but when that didn¡¯t even earn an eye roll from either of them, he asked: ¡°How bad was it?¡±


    ¡°Bad,¡± David just said.


    Nathan added: ¡°You weren¡¯t the only greenhorn who thought he¡¯d check a copse of conifers all on his own.¡± He paused and added: ¡°You were the only one who survived it. Thanks to Dolly.¡±


    ¡°Is that where Andrew is?¡± Greg asked. ¡°She¡¯s okay, right?¡±


    ¡°Dolly is fine,¡± Nathan sighed. ¡°Dad¡¯s dealing with the families of some of the men who¡ªdidn¡¯t make it. Andrew is with him.¡±


    Greg shuddered. ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°Thirteen, all together.¡±


    ¡°We lost four shooters, too,¡± David added quietly.


    ¡°Four shooters?¡± Greg echoed incredulously. Sure, it happened that a hunter wasn¡¯t fast enough on the draw, but four of them? With a plan this well laid out and men this experienced? ¡°How did that happen?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± David said, ¡°we shot four werewolves, and your inquisitor back there gave the signal that you guys had killed two more. So some idiots left their post, because hey, six werewolves are dead, the hunt is over and we never receive false information about anything, ever, do we? So of course the remaining two werewolves went on a rampage through what was left of the formation. They must have gotten some beaters early on, too, but no one can tell when and where at this point.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± Greg muttered. Four shooters and nine beaters dead.


    Eight werewolves, Mithras have mercy.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Late the next morning, the mood in the camp improved slightly: Coaches and riders were coming up the road. It was time to present the dead werewolves to an official, either from the Church or an Imperial magistrate, to have the kills confirmed, and reap the rewards.


    The pack had been smart, or at least been led by someone who had kept some spark of human rationality. They had been terrorizing the area for over seven months, either evading all attempts to take them down or killing the hunters. They had also attacked several villages, a travelling group of merchants, and just a few days ago, when the moon had been less than half full, there had been an attack on a crew of railway surveyors. Which meant these monsters had had a taste for human flesh beyond the full moon madness and that there were probably plenty of other victims no one had heard about.


    It also meant the bounties on any one of them would feed a family for a year. Well, maybe not Greg¡¯s family. But an average citizen? This was the hunt to make it big.


    Indeed, there was a small crowd coming up the hill towards the camp. Greg had a good view of them from the back of their cart, where his brothers had put him earlier. There were both a cleric, easy to recognize in his red robes, and an Imperial official, wearing that specific colour of blue. Following them was a mixed bunch, some nobles, servants in colourful livres, villagers, and some who were quite obviously journalists, already clutching their little notebooks.


    Greg watched from a distance how the officials with the gravitas of their respective offices inspected each carcass and then had to witness how the heads were cut off. He couldn¡¯t quite stop himself from grinning: the cleric and the Imperial magistrate were so clearly uncomfortable. Bram was standing right next to them. From his gesturing, Greg was guessing that his father was trying to leverage their discomfort into an even higher reward. After all, the agreed-upon rates had been for only six werewolves, not eight.


    Eventually, the last head fell and a cheer went through the huntsmen gathered close to the negotiation. The magistrate fled, waving to his officers, while the cleric stayed just long enough to see the eight heads bagged before he too fled down towards his coach. Greg¡¯s father ambled after them. The cheering grew louder when the armed footmen carried up huge strongboxes full of silver.


    Greg closed his eyes. Dividing the money would take its sweet time, especially today. Especially on a hunt of such unusual nature.


    He ticked them off his fingers: His father had been guaranteed a bonus by the Church when he had been ordered to organise the whole thing. DeLande likewise, Greg suspected.


    Then there was the money the beaters had been promised just for showing up, which they would have gotten even if this attempt had failed¡ªit was a rather handsome sum for a farmer and the only reason so many men had been willing to risk their lives. It would go to the families of the men who hadn¡¯t survived, too. Then there was the success premium, which they all would share.


    Next, there were the general kill awards¡ªthe one that the Empire paid for every dead werewolf presented to any Valoisian magistrate. And finally the bounties, by far the most money, which would go to those eight individuals who had fired the killing shots. Unless of course one of the monsters had been brought down through a group effort, in which case things could get really complicated. Because the person who fired the killing shot also took home the pelt, and werewolf pelts fetched high prices with the Valoisian nobility, especially back in the homeland. If a werewolf hadn¡¯t been active long and hadn¡¯t amassed a bounty yet, the price of the pelt often trumped the official rewards for the kill.


    Greg had some hopes that he might get a pelt, too. He had killed that one werewolf, after all. He fell asleep again over dreams of showing his first trophy to his friend Gustave.


    Greg woke with a scream when the cart under him started moving. Even the slightest bump made his leg hurt as if there was a draft horse kicking him in the thigh.


    ¡°Oh, hey,¡± Andrew said. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡±


    ¡°No shit,¡± Greg muttered to himself. He had to bite his tongue to suppress another whimper of pain.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry,¡± Andrew said. ¡°It¡¯ll get better once we reach the main road. Here, that should cheer you up.¡±


    He dropped a leather bag full of something heavy onto Greg¡¯s chest.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Your reward, genius. One bag full of silver, and some gold to pad it out.¡±


    Greg closed his eyes and breathed through the pain when they hit the next pothole. Andrew was right, though. The thought of his first earnings did cheer him up. He could buy a horse with the money¡ªonce he could walk again, anyway¡ªand still have plenty left for a rainy day.


    He really wished he had some laudanum, but all he got was a bottle of whiskey when they stopped for the night. They had just made it over to the next village, which didn¡¯t even have an inn. When the farmers heard who they were, they were happy to at least let them stay in one of the barns, which was dry and sheltered from the icy wind that had picked up. Greg was cold anyway. But by the time his brothers heaved him back onto the cart, he felt hot and feverish.


    For the remainder of the journey, he dropped in and out of consciousness. Whenever he woke up, someone was sitting with him, usually Andrew, but David and Nathan took turns as well, and once, there was his father poking at his broken leg. That time, Greg was really glad when he passed out again.


    Finally, he woke up in his own bed, in their townhouse in Deva. Dr. ibn Sina was sitting at his bedside, who had taken over for his father as the family¡¯s doctor just recently, and on Greg¡¯s other side was his mother Imani. It was embarrassing how incredibly glad he was to see her. When she hugged him a little awkwardly, he was relieved that the young doctor got up and left them alone.


    Had David cried like this in their mother¡¯s arms after his first hunt, Greg wondered as he blinked away the tears. Had Andrew and Nathan?


    If they had, his mother didn¡¯t mention it. She did ask, however: ¡°Does this mean that you do not wish to go hunting again?¡±


    Greg pushed himself upright as much as he could and wiped the tears from his face. ¡°What?¡± he asked. ¡°No! I¡ªit was just¡­¡±


    He stopped, confused, when his mother reached for his hand. ¡°I did not think you would change your mind so quickly,¡± she said. ¡°But it was worth a try, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    His mother smiled sadly, just with her glittering black eyes. ¡°I know you love the city,¡± she said, standing up. ¡°The theatre, the music halls, even the lectures of Mr. Higgins. And I would have liked to keep at least one of you closer to home. Mr. Higgins will be disappointed, too. You know he has some hope of getting you to Rambouillet one day.¡±


    ¡°Or into poetry,¡± Greg muttered darkly to himself.


    ¡°You enjoy literature,¡± his mother pointed out.


    Greg shrugged. ¡°I do,¡± he said. ¡°But Mr. Higgins would have me become one of those sappy romantics who waste all their time just dreaming of adventures, instead of living some.¡±


    ¡°But what if all your adventures go like this one?¡±


    Greg thought about it for a moment. ¡°Then at least I¡¯ll have done some good in the world, instead of just talking about it?¡±


    He didn¡¯t like how it came out as a question. His mother nodded slowly, but she didn¡¯t look convinced, either, Greg thought. He was almost sure she would say something more about the matter, but ibn Sina returned to take his temperature. Greg closed his eyes and tried to think himself somewhere else.


    Ibn Sina insisted on repeating the embarrassing and uncomfortable procedure three times a day for a whole week, even though Greg didn¡¯t feel feverish at all anymore. He actually felt really good. The doctor had secured his leg in a splint, and with help from David and Nathan, he spent a lot of time out in the garden pavilion, where he had lessons with Mr. Higgins.


    Mr. Higgins was the teacher who had educated them all since they were kids, and he was at least as disappointed as Imani when Greg¡¯s injury didn¡¯t stop him from wanting to go hunting again. So he spent the whole time trying to change Greg¡¯s mind, until, at the end of the week, Greg actually felt relief when ibn Sina interrupted a lecture because he wanted to talk to him in private.


    ¡°I have to ask you,¡± the doctor started, as soon as they were alone.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Greg said, perplexed, because the young physician stared at him intently, looking worried.


    Ibn Sina huffed softly, opened his mouth, stopped himself, started again, and finally asked: ¡°Did you use any kind of magic to speed up the healing process?¡±


    Greg just stared at him, mouth agape.


    ¡°Magic,¡± he finally managed. ¡°Where would I have found a healer? When?¡±


    ¡°So you didn¡¯t use any magic?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Greg said, as firmly as he could. He knew that ibn Sina, just like his father, had strong views about using any kind of magic. Apparently, there was a taboo against it in their religion.


    He didn¡¯t want the doctor to run out on him. And he really hadn¡¯t used any sort of magic.


    But to his surprise, ibn Sina didn¡¯t look assuaged. Quite the contrary: he buried his face in one hand for several seconds. Eventually, he looked around and led Greg upstairs to his room. Walking the stairs became easier every day, but the doctor¡¯s firm grip surprised Greg, and nearly pulled him off balance.


    ¡°I need you to think very carefully,¡± the doctor said, as soon as the door closed behind them. ¡°Did you ever¡ªpurchase some kind of amulet, a charm maybe, or make some sort of deal with¡ªwith an entity of some sort, even as a child, even if you thought it was just a joke, or¡ª or a dream... Maybe some strange blessing¡­¡±


    When Greg kept shaking his head, he trailed off, looking crestfallen. He rubbed his face again, swearing in a language Greg didn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Greg asked when the doctor wouldn¡¯t say anything further. ¡°What¡¯s the problem? I¡¯m feeling great.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± ibn Sina sighed. ¡°That is precisely the problem.¡±


    When Greg looked at him blankly, he continued: ¡°You were really, really sick when you got here, Greg. You fevered for the three days of the journey, and then another day and night after you were back home, and I don¡¯t think you even remember. Because you were slipping away, Greg, we were losing you. And then suddenly we weren¡¯t anymore, and you woke up, and you were fine. Even your leg is healing way too fast.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Gregory, bodies don¡¯t work that way. I would have been willing to shrug off the fever as just incredibly good luck, or possibly even a heavenly blessing. But what your bones are doing¡ªmagic is the only explanation for that. And if you didn¡¯t¡ªacquire¡ªthis magic by your choice and free will, then¡ªthen you have to consider¡ªthen the most likely explanation is that you were bitten.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Greg said. ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t. I was checked. Twice, actually.¡±


    ¡°Greg, if it was that easy to spot, don¡¯t you think there would be fewer werewolves around?¡± The doctor looked at him seriously. ¡°Especially with darker skin tones, such as yours, it¡¯s hard to be sure before the first full moon. In fact, even a simple sunburn can make it impossible to see the reddening around the wound. Especially if it¡¯s just a scratch.¡±


    Greg opened his mouth, but he had no idea what he should say to this, so he closed it again after a few seconds.


    ¡°I have not spoken to anyone else about this yet,¡± ibn Sina said. ¡°And if I am wrong, I will be back after full moon to take off that splint. But I doubt that I am wrong. May God have mercy on you.¡±


    With that, the doctor left. Greg just stood there, staring after him. Without thinking about it, his hand reached up to his face, to the cuts there, that had already faded to pink lines, still lighter than the rest of his skin. It couldn¡¯t be. Werewolf bites were nasty. Even magic couldn¡¯t close them.


    But all of his injuries were healing magically faster than they should, not slower.


    He stepped in front of his mirror and pulled down the neckline of his shirt. There was nothing on his neck or his shoulders, and as far as he could twist his head, nothing on his back either. He hesitated for a second, then slipped out of his room and over to his mother¡¯s boudoir, where he nicked a hand mirror from her vanity. But that didn¡¯t show him anything but the smooth, dark brown skin of his back, either.


    Which, admittedly, was a little weird. A month ago, like most seventeen-year-olds he had had plenty of pimples on his back and face. Now, there were only a couple of tiny spots left.


    The black curls on his head were too thick to see anything underneath, but when he returned his mother¡¯s mirror, he found a silver letter opener, so he used that to run it over his scalp. He felt stupid doing it. Silver was supposed to be inimical to werewolves, shouldn¡¯t he feel something when he gripped the handle of the letter opener? But the silver just felt cool. Not bad, just very cold. His fingers were starting to feel chilly from holding the letter opener.


    Greg dropped the silver and stared down at his fingers. Warmth flooded back as soon as the metal cluttered onto the table. And when he stared at his hands, for the first time he noticed the teeny tiny cuts at the knuckles of his right hand. No bite marks, he was sure of that.


    But. He suddenly remembered that moment when the werewolf had gripped his white cape, shaking him, remembered reaching for his knife and just blindly hacking at the linen, right next to the werewolf¡¯s teeth.


    So scratch marks?


    Carefully, hesitatingly, he held out his hand, palm up. He had to take a deep breath and close his eyes before he could bring himself to brush the back of his hand over the letter opener.


    It was cold, icy cold. Unnaturally cold. And it hurt. It started slowly, barely noticeable, but then the chill and the cold turned into a burn as if glowing embers had landed on his skin. Not everywhere, but he didn¡¯t have to open his eyes to know that the burn was everywhere where the skin was still scabbed over.


    Ibn Sina had been right: He was well and truly screwed.

 Chapter 3

    After a while, Greg returned to the garden, where Mr. Higgins was still waiting for him. He was more dazed than scared, and he couldn¡¯t even have said what he told his teacher what the doctor had wanted two minutes after the fact. For the rest of the afternoon, he felt absent, detached, as if all this was happening to somebody else, and he was just watching.


    When he did think about it, he kept coming up with different ways how he could tell his family about what had happened, imagined different outcomes of the conversation. But when night fell, a realization started to pierce through the fog in his head like an iceberg through the ocean: He had to leave.


    It didn¡¯t even matter whether or not his father and brothers would let him go or try to kill him on the spot. He couldn¡¯t tell them either way.


    He couldn¡¯t tell them, because he wasn¡¯t ready to die. And if they did close both eyes and let him go, they would be guilty of treason, and then they, too, would be hunted by the Inquisition.


    But no matter what his family would do, the fact didn¡¯t change that he couldn¡¯t stay within the biggest city of Loegrion if he was really going to turn into a raging monster within the next couple of weeks.


    The first rush of panic and confusion that followed this realization made him ache to leave tonight, to just run out the door as fast as his bad leg would take him. Throughout dinner, he kept imagining furtive glances between his father and his brothers, the gleam of bloodlust in their eyes. He was their prey now.


    But that was stupid. That was exactly why ibn Sina hadn¡¯t told anyone else in the house about his suspicion, so he would have time to leave in peace.


    What Greg needed was a plan. New moon was two nights away, so in theory, he had another two weeks of full humanity. He needed to make good on that time because there was no telling what he would be like after full moon. If he was really lucky, he might not change that much at all ¨C aside from the murderous rage of the full moon madness, of course. Or he might turn into a fully grown monster, with no trace of humanity left, hungry for human flesh. Or he might slowly slip into madness over the next few months. Or something entirely unpredictable.


    Hell, he didn¡¯t even know what he was going to look like in his human form after full moon. His brown skin wouldn¡¯t change, but his eyes and hair probably would.


    But if he thought about what might happen to him, he would go crazy right here at the dinner table. And the roast that Clara, the cook, had served was way too good to go to waste like that.


    So he tried his best to act normal, as if his heart wasn¡¯t beating high in his throat, as if his fingers that were holding the cutlery weren¡¯t shaking. He was surprised that he was so hungry, despite his nerves. In his books, the characters always lost their appetite when they got bad news, but he felt like he was starving. Andrew even made a joke about it, when Greg refilled his plate. No one seemed to find it strange though.


    As soon as the plates were cleared away by the maids, Greg retreated to his room. He sat down at his desk, and for a long time, he just stared down at the letter opener that was still laying there. Every now and then he touched it with the back of his hand, felt the cold bite of pain in the injuries on his knuckles, and still couldn¡¯t quite believe that this was happening.


    In the drawer of his desk was the money locked away, the money that in a way had earned him these troubles. The pelt was at the furrier, and unlikely to be ready before full moon, but there was nothing to be done about that. Still, the money he had should last him a while, and he wouldn¡¯t have to steal anything from his family.


    What he needed was a place far enough away from people that he wouldn¡¯t put anyone in danger, if he did turn into a rabid monster of a wolf in a couple of weeks. That meant leaving the Heartlands, and going either west or north.


    If he made it all the way west into the mountains, that would be best. But that was a long, long way, and riding was out of the question with his broken leg. Even if he were to board a stagecoach this very night, Greg wasn¡¯t sure if he could make it there within the time he had, and he wasn¡¯t sure if a coach was going that direction tonight, either.


    Also, the coaches mainly operated between bigger cities, which he needed to avoid.


    Damn. Damn the werewolf, and damn his broken leg.


    Greg ran a frustrated hand through his hair.


    He needed to find a reliable way into the middle of nowhere, which was a contradiction in itself.


    Was there any point in leaving Deva, before he knew where he should go?


    What if the doctor changed his mind and told somebody?


    But if he left too early, his family would no doubt try everything to find out where he was. And if they asked, the doctor would surely tell them? Or worse, the authorities? And then he would be running from every hunter in the country. And they wouldn¡¯t even have to wait for full moon, because they would know his name and face, and they would have the doctor¡¯s testimony towards his condition, which the Inquisition would gladly accept.


    Greg swore again softly. How had he gotten into this mess? Why was this happening to him? All he had wanted was to be like his brothers and father, to hunt werewolves and help people, as they did. He hadn¡¯t done anything wrong!


    Frustrated, he eventually went to bed, but his thoughts kept running in circles through his head. He was screwed. Damned if he left, and damned if he didn¡¯t.


    There was no safety for a werewolf anywhere; the only places the hunters didn¡¯t go were deep in the forests, where the Rot reigned and no human could live. Or could a werewolf live there? Could one kind of dark magic make him immune to another? Silver was, after all, said to work against both werewolves and the Rot. Just like fire.


    If, if, if.


    Shuddering, Greg tried to turn onto his side but was stopped by the bloody splint. If at least he hadn¡¯t broken his stupid leg, then he¡¯d have some options. Then he could just borrow a horse and ride away, ride until he was somewhere deep into the forests and wouldn¡¯t put anyone in danger on full moon. Afterwards, he would have to travel onwards, maybe into the mountains, reach them when spring did...


    By that time, he should at least have an idea of how exactly the curse would manifest for him. Provided he even retained a mind capable of self-reflection.


    Somehow, Greg did fall asleep despite all his tossing and turning, but when he woke up the next morning, he felt exhausted, like he hadn¡¯t slept at all. Still, he let himself get dragged into the city by Mr. Higgins and Gustave deBire. Gustave was a year younger than Greg, also a student of Mr. Higgins, and since they often had lessons together, they had become good friends.


    Greg would miss Gustave, too. He wished there was anything he might say to him, but he kept his mouth shut while he hobbled along, down to the Royal Gardens by the river, where an inventor was presenting his flight mobile to the marvelling public.


    Mr. Higgins was very excited about this latest wonder of science, but before they got there, they had to pass by the horrors of corrupted magic: Guards in silver helmets were using the precious hours of winter sun to burn the misshapen creatures that had gotten caught during the night in the hastily erected defences alongside the water¡¯s edge. The whole Royal Gardens smelled of the putrid smoke.


    A shudder ran down Greg¡¯s spine as he watched two men not much older than himself drag what only looked like a harmless log of wood to the closest fire. Even with their silver helmets as protection, the effects of the Rot were strong enough that the guards had to be changed every few minutes.


    ¡°Is there any news about what¡¯s happening to the White Torrent?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Well, as you can see, it hasn¡¯t gotten any better,¡± Mr. Higgins said. ¡°But other than that, little news, no. If it is unsanctioned magic that¡¯s doing this, the culprits still haven¡¯t been caught. Not even the Church has made out a scapegoat yet.¡±


    ¡°They must feel pretty annoyed,¡± Gustave said darkly. ¡°This all started right after they had their big witchcraft trial. If they had waited just another month, they could have burned half of Deva at the stake, and the other half would have helped them pile up the wood.¡±


    That was one of the things Greg liked so much about Gustave: He was a Valoisian noble and was dragged to church every Sunday by his devout grandparents, but it would be hard to find a more enlightened disciple of science anywhere.


    ¡°Dad reckons they¡¯ll pin it on the Moon Worshippers, or some other heathens,¡± Gustave added. ¡°Can¡¯t be much longer now.¡±


    ¡°Call them Wayfarers,¡± Mr. Higgins admonished. ¡°Moon Worshippers is factually incorrect. We shouldn¡¯t perpetuate the Church¡¯s mistakes. Though I¡¯m afraid your father will be right. They will have to pick a scapegoat soon.¡±


    And then there¡¯d be another mass trial, and more completely pointless death. Greg shuddered again. The White Torrent was falling to the Rot, and nobody had any idea why.


    The Torrent was the only major river of Loegrion that hadn¡¯t been overtaken by the Rot more than two hundred years ago. Until this winter, everyone had just assumed that it would continue to be safe. But right after the winter solstice, the first of the Rot had appeared on the river, and small monsters kept coming into the city by night ever since.


    The Church claimed, of course, that the people of Deva just needed to pray more, and present more sacrificial offerings, and in general follow the teachings and laws of Mithras.


    The city guard suspected a powerful, unsanctioned magician, perhaps even human sacrifice, but had found no trace of them. Instead, they had erected some simple defences and prohibited everyone from stepping right up to the water. There was also a curfew in effect.


    Greg turned his back on the labouring guards. This wouldn¡¯t be his problem much longer, and his family lived far enough away from the river that he wasn¡¯t worried about them, either. The richest, most powerful nobles lived right at the White Torrent¡¯s shores. One of them was the viceroy himself, Duke Desmarais, representative of the Roi Solei. Desmarais had a personal vendetta against the Rot, so Greg was confident that the issue would be fixed soon.


    Or at the very least, that proper measures would be taken to protect the banks and the city.


    ¡°There¡¯s the inventor,¡± Mr. Higgins interrupted his thoughts. ¡°Isn¡¯t it a marvellous contraption? To think that it actually flies!¡±


    Greg had to admit that he was impressed as well. The small device consisted of a crate about as big as a dog, which contained some sort of clockwork mechanism. This caused a cross of flat wooden planks to rotate at high speed, which somehow lifted the whole thing into the air.


    It was clumsy, compared to the elegant airships of the Imperial Fleet, but impressive none the less.


    Greg let himself be pulled into a conversation with the inventor, who was originally from the heart of Valoir, about what he called aerodynamics. It was a welcome distraction from all his worries, but when they returned through the busy streets of Deva, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder how people would react to him if they knew about the curse he was carrying. Once he left, could he ever return? Would he ever walk these streets again?


    At one of the city¡¯s smaller plazas, they passed a man who was standing on a wooden box.


    ¡°Gentlemen!¡± he called at the top of his voice. ¡°Brave gents of Deva, flock around, you do not want to miss this amazing offer! Make your fortune, gentlemen, the Lackland Railway Company is hiring¡­¡±


    He had picked his spot well, plenty of foot traffic was coming through this plaza. Still, nobody stopped, nobody was listening.


    Mr. Higgins shook his head and chuckled darkly.


    ¡°Good luck, mate,¡± he muttered. ¡°No one here¡¯s going to be desperate enough to throw himself to the Rot. Better try it down at the New Barracks.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s behind this?¡± Greg asked. ¡°Lackland? Are they trying to butter-up the Valoise, or is this one of those resistance stunts?¡±


    ¡°Right, you weren¡¯t in the city,¡± Mr. Higgins said.


    ¡°It¡¯s most certainly the latter,¡± Gustave explained. ¡°Last full moon, while you were frolicking through the woods, His Highness, the Duke of Mannin, announced that he wants to fund his own railway enterprise and introduced the Lackland Railway Company.¡±


    Greg blinked a few times at that. Lackland was the sobriquet the Valoise had given to King George IV, the last free king of Loegrion, who had lost all his lands to them. At the time, it had been a way to lord Loegrion¡¯s unconditional surrender over its people, and the Valoise still used it that way. But ¡°King Lackland¡± had also become a rallying cry for Loegrian nationalists.


    ¡°Lord George Louis has to be real sure of himself,¡± Greg finally said.


    ¡°He wants to be king of a free Loegrion, and he¡¯s testing what he can get away with,¡± Mr. Higgins said with a shrug. ¡°This is only going to be the start of it.¡±


    ¡°Think they can do it?¡± Gustave asked when they moved on. ¡°Build a railway right through the forest?¡±


    ¡°I very much doubt it,¡± Mr. Higgins said. ¡°This is a fool¡¯s errand. No matter what they¡¯re offering, it¡¯ll still be suicide.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, right through the forest?¡± Greg asked.


    Mr. Higgins and Gustave both laughed unhappily.


    ¡°The duke must have lost his mind,¡± Gustave said. ¡°Wants to build a railway from Mannin to Eoforwic.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a Northerner¡¯s folly,¡± Mr. Higgins grumbled. ¡°Just because they¡¯ve beaten the Rot at Mannin, they think it¡¯s not that much of an issue.¡±


    Greg nodded along. The duke had to be mad, indeed. But the advertising had given him an idea. There it was, his reliable mode of transportation straight into the middle of nowhere. Not this full moon, the company wouldn¡¯t take him with the splint. But as soon as that was off, and if his sanity survived full moon, he could sign up to whatever surveyor crew went deepest into the woodlands. It was a one-way trip, but at least he wouldn¡¯t be walking the whole way and probably getting turned around within minutes. With his luck, he¡¯d walk straight into a village, and he didn¡¯t want to imagine what would happen then. He wasn¡¯t a murderer, and he didn¡¯t want to become one.


    Five days before full moon, a messenger came from some bishop or other, and Greg¡¯s father was called out to another hunt. Only Nathan and David would go with him, but it was only a single werewolf that was roaming the hunting grounds of the bishop¡¯s castle, so Greg didn¡¯t worry about them. As soon as they were out of the house, he started packing his own bags. He would have to travel light, and as fast as possible. Five days wasn¡¯t much time, but if he wanted to join a crew of navvies, there was no point in travelling all the way to the mountains anyway. The Lackland Railway Company was operating out of Eoforwic, which the fastest mail coaches travelling from Deva could reach within a week.


    The coach left in the evening and travelled at night, when the roads were empty, so Greg claimed that he was going out to see Gustave. If he was lucky, he would be well out of the city before his mother even realized that he had never reached his friend¡¯s place. He spent forever debating whether or not he should leave a message, but in the end, he had no idea what to say anyway.


    So he just slipped out of the door with his bundle and flagged down a cab, which took him straight to the post office from where the coach left. Greg got there early because he didn¡¯t want to risk that the coach was full, and ended up milling around the yard for over an hour. Eventually, though, the coach was ready, he paid his fare, and with some troubles climbed aboard. Three other men were travelling inside the cabin, and two more in the front with the driver. In the back of the carriage, outside, rode the guard with the strongbox full of mail. Two of the other passengers he shared the cabin with just said they were travelling on business, the last one was rushing home to cremate his father.


    Somehow, this revelation stifled all conversation.


    The coach rushed off as the bells struck six, hooves thundering on the cobblestones. Soon, they were out of the city, and Greg could finally breathe a little easier. Of course, werewolves weren¡¯t allowed on the mail coach, not even on new moon, when they were basically human, but nobody was suspicious: everybody knew that there were no werewolves inside the city walls of Deva. The guards at the gates weren¡¯t good for much, but they were very experienced at finding werewolves, unsanctioned magicians, and other undesirables, and tended to err on the side of caution.


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    Greg looked around. The two businessmen dozed quite peacefully, despite the way the coach was shaking, and the last guy stared morosely out of the window. Greg glanced down at his hands. He had paid the fare in silver, and his fingers still felt tender. When he was sure that nobody paid him any attention, he fished a piece of silver out of his purse. A sharp pain shot up his fingers, and he had to bite his tongue to suppress a hiss. He furtively dropped the coin on his pants and stared at his fingertips. They were most definitely flushed. Hadn¡¯t ibn Sina said that his dark skin might hide the reddening? Gently, Greg pressed the back of his hand at the coin and waited as long as he could bear the burning cold. When he checked, he could just barely see a darker spot on his skin. But the inside of his fingers and palms were lighter, and the silver burn far more noticeable.


    Out in the country, it was common practice to exchange silver coins as a form of greeting, to prove that one was fully human. He would have to find a way to trick people if he wanted to survive a full month around civilization.


    The coach stopped at regular intervals to change horses, but that was the only interruption of the monotony until they reached a steep hill, and the driver made them all get out and walk to spare the animals a little. In the morning, they stopped for a few hours and then got not only new horses but also a new driver. The two businessmen got off as well. The young man on his way to his father¡¯s funeral stayed, and the guard with the mail remained the same, too. A young couple filled the coach cab, endlessly bickering about the upcoming festival of the spring equinox which they would spend with her parents, apparently. They were an amusing distraction to Greg for about an hour, and then just exhausting. Luckily, they got off again at nightfall and after that, Greg finally fell asleep.


    The journey passed in a blur, an almost feverish sensation of mounting terror made only worse by the boredom. Every mile they travelled brought him further away from his family, every hour that passed closer to full moon. Years ago, he had seen a werewolf, collared and in a cage, presented by the Church of Mithras, as proof of their might and Mithras¡¯s greatness. Even then he had wondered what might be going on inside that huge head, behind those gleaming eyes. What did the creature feel? What did it remember? How much self was left in there? What would be left of Greg, of Gregory Feleke? Would he even remember his family? His past? Himself?


    The strangest thing was that Greg still didn¡¯t feel any different. Sure, the silver burned him worse the fuller the moon got, but really, that was all. The sign of the sun, which was sacred to Mithras, was supposed to repel werewolves, but when a young lady entered the coach, who wore it as a medallion around her neck, Greg felt nothing. She might as well have worn a potato on a string.


    Two days before full moon, Greg left the mail coach when they stopped at a coaching inn at noon. The tall building was surrounded by a high stone wall, which was topped with iron spikes alternating with torches, to keep out whatever monster might climb out of the surrounding forest. While stable hands were bringing the new horses and leading away the tired ones, people got on and off the coach, and a new driver took over as well, Greg slipped out of the front gate.


    He found himself surrounded by trees almost immediately, which was why he had picked this stop to get off. There was no town nearby, no village, nothing but forests and swamps for miles and miles in all directions of the inn. Greg found a deer crossing and followed it until he reached a small river. Then he turned downstream until he reached a small island in the middle of the river. There was nothing on the island besides a single tree. It must have been hit by lightning, or some strange magic: it had almost no bark anymore, and one half looked completely dead, but fresh limbs were sprouting from where the trunk had cracked.


    It was as good a landmark as he was likely to find out here. They were close to the Savre, the biggest river of Loegrion. In this area it was more of a swamp, completely overtaken by the Rot, but he should still be able to find it fairly easily, even after full moon. And then he just needed to find the right tributary and the island. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but he couldn¡¯t think of anything better. So he lit a small fire and hid everything he had brought with him in the hollow trunk of the half-dead tree.


    Greg shivered when he saw the moon rise above the forest. To his bare eye, it looked round, and most people considered this the first night of full moon. When the sun set, about an hour later, he could finally feel something, something strong and terrifying, like an earthquake that rocked nothing but the inside of his body. He wanted to run, to move, to scream, to hurt something¡­


    Greg shook his head and stopped again abruptly. The small movement felt like his whole body would shake itself apart, as if every part of him had become brittle. Very carefully, he sat down again and began to chew on a dry bread crust.


    He had bought plenty of food just that same morning, easily enough to last until the moon was waxing again. Yet somehow, half of that was gone by midnight. And he was still hungry. For a while, Greg walked up and down on his small island. There was nothing to do but worry. Worry and eat, and if he finished his supplies tonight, what would he eat tomorrow?


    Greg groaned softly. It wasn¡¯t just the hunger. His whole body ached as if all his bones had been bruised or broken. Or as if they were too big for his body. He wanted to scratch under his skin, stretch his muscles in ways that his joints didn¡¯t actually bend. Somehow he wished Gustave were there so that he could talk to somebody about what was happening to him, not in a personal form, but the way they used to discuss horses and their physiques at the race track.


    Could he hunt for more food, restock his reserves?


    He had to be mad to even consider the possibility. The fire was the only thing that might keep him safe from the Rot; it would be stupid to leave that protection. But Sun, he was hungry.


    Eventually, he did pick up the double crossbow he had taken from home. Just like his brothers, he had learned how to hunt werewolves by first going after deer and wild pigs. He used to be fairly good at that, but tonight he had no luck. He was too anxious, too twitchy, and his broken leg in its cast made too much noise.


    When the moon set, maybe an hour before dawn, he had to face the fact that this wasn¡¯t normal hunger. This was something new, something he had never felt before. If all werewolves felt like this, constantly, it was no wonder that they raided villages for food.


    There was no way he would sleep, but he dragged himself back to the little island, stoked the fire again. He checked on the money he had hidden in the tree trunk, and then watched the sunrise while ripping dead leaves to the smallest pieces he could manage and break up twigs with his bare hands to splinters.


    When the sun rose up above the trees, the restlessness eased a little and he did manage to doze for a few hours. But then the moon went up again in the afternoon, and he just couldn¡¯t sit still.


    Eventually, he decided to take off his clothes. They wouldn¡¯t transform with him, and he couldn¡¯t afford to lose them, especially his shoes. For a moment he worried about his leg, but then he remembered his father saying that the magic that forced him to change shapes would also heal his wounds ¨C all and any that hadn¡¯t been caused by silver or fire or magic.


    He crouched down close to his fire and wrapped a heavy blanket around his shoulders. His breath came too fast and uneven. His skin felt hot, even though he was stark naked by now, and he was shaking, not from the cold, but the helpless terror that had gripped him.


    There was absolutely nothing for him to do but sit here and shiver. The curse would find him, no matter where he ran to.


    When the sun finally vanished behind the trees, he was almost glad. At least now the wait was over.


    The first thing he noticed was that weird feeling in his bones again, that ache, the feeling that his bones were too large, and shifting without his control. And then the sun slipped down beyond the horizon, and there was pain, the pain of returning circulation and broken bones. His body was tearing itself apart, and there was no way not to scream.


    His fingers shrunk back into the palm of his hand and he could feel all five of them getting dislocated as his changing muscles jerked them into a new position, muscles and sinews that were torn in the same moment by the growing bones in the middle of his hands. When his hip joints shifted, he fell forward onto the still tender skin around his changing nails. Next, he felt his spine grow out, piercing through the skin of backside as if he had been stabbed by a knife. Then new skin and muscles grew, forming a tail, and with it came the worst pain, the agony of exposed nerves, like a toothache that encompassed this whole new limb.


    Greg¡¯s scream abruptly ended when his whole ribcage bent itself out of shape and for a few panicked moments he was certain he would suffocate, because he couldn¡¯t breathe. No matter how hard he tried, his diaphragm just seemed to pull on nothing, until he could feel things lurch inside him, and his organs, too, took their new positions.


    Greg groaned weakly. The sound changed into a whine when his jaws bent themselves out of shape and his tongue grew. His teeth itched and new ones filled the extra space in his long muzzle.


    Finally, his skin felt like it was pierced by a million needles as hairs sprouted all over his body. With a last semi-rationale thought, Greg tried to look what colour his fur was, but then his bones all jerked and swelled at the same moment, tearing his muscles and stretching his skin for a second time.


    For a moment he thought this new pain would be too much, that he would finally faint ¨C and in a way he did faint, but right before he passed out he felt something stir in the darkness: a soul made of nothing but fear, and pain, confusion, and a terrible anger, and that same hunger he had struggled with all day, taking over, drowning him, pushing aside everything that was Greg Feleke.


    He came to his senses at sunrise, in the middle of a swamp. He felt tired, cold, and filthy, and he hurt all over. But he was still there. Still himself. The monster hadn¡¯t killed that.


    Greg could only hope that he hadn¡¯t killed anything ¨C or rather, anyone ¨C else.


    Dragging himself out of the swamp, naked and barefooted, took him the better part of the day. Then the moon rose again, and before he even realized what was happening, his body was ripping itself apart for the second time. The pain was at least as bad as last night, but this time, the sun was still up, and somehow that made it different. He was still there, barely. He was in pain, and terrified and confused, and this wasn¡¯t his body. This was wrong, and yet, he was running before he knew what was going on. Running felt good, safe. He wanted to hunt, to rend and tear and kill and taste the fresh, sweet blood, feed on tender flesh¡­


    He had a vague memory of a place he needed to find, somewhere by the river, but then the sun set and all that went away.


    Again the sun rose, and Greg looked around in bewilderment. The colours were all wrong, but the smells ¨C he could smell so much, and he had no idea what it all was. And sounds! There was movement all around him, and his head kept swinging right and left. But whatever he heard, it stayed hidden. Which was a shame, because he was about hungry enough to eat the whole holy bull of Mithras by himself.


    He was still a wolf. The realization came curiously slowly, followed by a new rush of panic that made him sprint forward. As if he could run away from his own thoughts or this new body. The scariest thing was how right it felt to not even be human. To have four feet and a tail and no hands. He didn¡¯t need to think about running at all, but when he started to pay attention to how his legs moved, he nearly fell down onto his nose, because Greg Feleke had never needed to move his arms to walk forward.


    Greg stumbled to a stop and tried to take stock of this new body. He looked down onto his feet. His four legs were brown turning to a lighter grey at his paws. When he craned his neck as far as possible he could, he could see that the coat on his back was darker, almost black with lighter hairs interspersed. His belly was nearly white, as far as he could tell.


    He really wished he had a mirror.


    What would he look like as a human? Would his curly hair change colour to the same dark grey as the fur on his back? Would his eyes still have human pupils surrounded by white, or would they be completely brown, or gold, or whatever eye colour he had right now?


    If they had changed, he was pretty much screwed. Or screwed even more.


    And how did he turn back? He had always assumed that it would happen by itself, that the power of the sun would somehow ¨C defeat the curse or something like that?


    He found a sunny spot and tried to sit down right in the middle. When his tail touched the ground, he jumped straight up again, startled by the sensation. He finally understood why his father¡¯s favourite dog always took ages to settle down. He wanted to cross his legs like he would as a human, but of course, he couldn¡¯t do that, either. His back was too long, too.


    Greg forced himself to stop squirming around and just stand there for a moment, picturing in his mind how a dog would sit down. It was hard to consciously think of himself like that. He was Greg Feleke. He had two hands, two arms, two legs, two feet. Absolutely no tail.


    Except that right now, he did have one.


    As if growing impatient with his clumsiness, the other awareness in the back of his head stirred, and Greg sat down slowly, turning his face towards the sun and closing his eyes, waiting with baited breath.


    But nothing happened at all.


    A sound in the underbrush made Greg jump. He still couldn¡¯t see what he was hearing, and he was beginning to suspect that it might be something really small, like a mouse, maybe. He had known on an intellectual level that wolves had better ears than humans, but he hadn¡¯t ever pictured what that might mean. If it was just a mouse, then it was a little embarrassing how jumpy the rustling between the dead leaves made him, a giant wolf.


    He truly was a giant wolf, Greg thought, turning his head this way and that to stare at himself as much as possible. When he craned his neck as high as possible, he was looking at the world at nearly the same angle as when he was standing on two feet. But there was so much more of him behind the back of his head, and that was just strange.


    Eventually, he gave up both trying to see himself and waiting for himself to turn human again. Instead, he started moving again. If he couldn¡¯t change shape, he might as well try to get back to the little island instead, to where his clothes and the meagre remains of his food stocks were. At least that way he didn¡¯t have to walk back barefoot. Maybe he could find his trail or something, retrace his footsteps?


    He felt really stupid when it eventually occurred to him to try and find his way by smell rather than sight, but once he thought of it, it wasn¡¯t hard to find his own scent. All he had to do was turn around and sniff at his own paw prints, and then follow that smell. The hardest part was not getting distracted by all the other scents marks he came across. So many of them made his mouth water.


    Finally, there was his island.


    Now he just needed to find out how to become human again, and maybe he could make it to the coaching inn before the sunset, and buy some food ¨C always provided his mirror image in the water wasn¡¯t too markedly different.


    Or should he avoid the inn in any case? It would be really hard to allay suspicion if he walked into a place that far away from civilization, especially this time of the month.


    He really should have considered this, like, three days ago, but it was too late now. He would have to go to the inn, to get food and a way back towards human settlements. If he couldn¡¯t walk in looking entirely human, he would have to steal something at night.


    His shape still didn¡¯t change though. He tried to think of his own body, of his real body, but nothing happened, except that his stomach started to growl louder and louder. He tried to think of when the last time was that he had eaten anything, but he couldn¡¯t even remember. Before full moon. Hopefully.


    He could remember almost nothing about the last two nights. The days were a little more clear, but it was as if with sundown, his whole memory blacked out.


    When the moon rose for the fourth time since he had gotten off the coach, Greg was still hungry but also starting to get bored. There was nothing useful he could do until he looked human again ¨C he couldn¡¯t reach his food, or make a fire, and there was no way he could go hunting in this form ¨C right now, all the new sense-impressions were confusing rather than helpful. And even if he had known how to interpret them, he wasn¡¯t sure how he could slink silently through the forest while he was a big as a horse.


    It happened just when he rested his head on his huge paws to try to catch some sleep. Suddenly his whole body seemed to cramp, like a seizure, and the next moment he shuddered with the cold. Becoming human again was no less agonizing than becoming wolf, but the pain was tempered a little by the relief.


    Greg hurried over to the hollow tree stump and dug out the remaining food he had hidden all the way in the back. The bread had gone mouldy and the once dried meat had a strange smell as well, but he didn¡¯t give a damn. He wolfed it all down before he got a fire going and finally slipped down to the creek, to wash away the worst grime of the swamp. The water was icy, but he stank of something vile, so he scrubbed at the dirt until his skin felt raw and hot, and jumped back into his clothes.


    His hands shook when he tried to close the laces of his shoes. As soon as they were closed, he inched back towards the water. He was a little scared of what he would see, but when he finally found a clear pond where he could see his face, he couldn¡¯t see any difference in it. It was hard to tell what colour his eyes had now, but he could still see some white in them, so at least they should look like a human¡¯s eyes.


    He was so relieved, he almost dropped down right there in the mud.


    For a while, he sat by his fire afterwards, letting the warmth seep into him. He was tired, and sore, and still hungry, and the idea of sleeping on the forest floor wasn¡¯t exactly appealing either. So after a while, he grabbed his crossbow and a quiver full of normal, steel-tipped bolts. He hadn¡¯t seen a single hint of the Rot during his whole stay in the forest, not as wolf and not as human, so he moved upstream, back to the crossing he had followed into the forest what seemed like an eternity ago. He had to force himself to move slowly, to stay downwind of where he hoped to find some prey, and he was lucky: he hadn¡¯t even reached the trail when he was rewarded with a couple of large forest hens. His father would have been proud if he could have seen his marksmanship.


    But his family, especially his father, was something he really didn¡¯t want to think about.


    Instead, he stoked the fire and then focused on plucking the first hen. He wasn¡¯t nearly as thorough as he would have been in any other situation, but hunger made him impatient. The meat wasn¡¯t really cooked either when he started eating, ripping out big chunks, and gobbling them down. A strange sensation came over him, a deep satisfaction that seemed out of place considering where he was and how he had gotten here.


    Apparently, the wolf approved, even though he had forgotten one of Andrew¡¯s rules: Always carry salt.


    Greg decided to stay another day, and the following night, on his island, and then return to the inn, and make up a story about some sort of coaching accident. He spent the time practicing his story and how to accept a silver coin without flinching away. Finally, an idea came to him, and he practiced that for the rest of the time. He felt pretty good when he managed to sleep at night and to wake up in his own body. Still, just that one night on the forest floor was enough to make him long for his bed.


    Early in the morning, he gathered his things and started walking back. It was just before noon when he reached the inn, and just as he had expected, people were not exactly thrilled to see him. The guards at the door argued for a small eternity before one of them went to fetch the innkeeper. The proprietor of the establishment was a heavyset man, a little older, who looked like he had just gotten harder with the years.


    ¡°All right, son,¡± he said when he saw Greg. ¡°Got some silver on you?¡±


    Greg nodded and fished a single coin from his pocket, and offered it to the innkeeper. The man looked a little surprised but handed a coin of his own back. Normally, one was expected to show his unblemished hand after accepting the silver, but Greg instead made a show of letting the coin walk across his knuckles, the way a jester might at the fair. It hurt, a lot, but he had practiced it yesterday, and if he did it right, he could minimize the contact he had with the metal, while at the same time making it look like he was drawing it out. Then he offered the guards and the innkeeper the back of his hand for inspection, where it was really hard to notice the reddening.


    The innkeeper actually laughed and shook the hand Greg offered. ¡°Mithras must really like you,¡± he decided. ¡°Got just that one coin?¡±


    Greg shook his head. ¡°I can pay for a room,¡± he assured the man. ¡°And some lunch? Or am I too late?¡±


    ¡°We got plenty of food, son,¡± the innkeeper assured him. ¡°Stuart¡¯s the name.¡±


    ¡°Gustave Higgins,¡± Greg lied.


    And that was it. Greg got some food, and then retreated up to his room, almost skipping up the steps. He had survived full moon. He was still ¨C there. Still Greg. And nobody here suspected anything. For the moment at least, he was safe.


    Until the next full moon.


    But that was something he would worry about in a couple of weeks. For now, he could sleep in a real bed, eat fresh food ¨C though his appetite seemed to return to normal as well ¨C and tomorrow, he would get onto a coach, and move on to Eoforwic. In a couple of days, three at the most, he would reach the city, and then he could see about joining the railway.


    He lay on his back on the bed and stared up towards the ceiling. The room wasn¡¯t very big, but clean, and the bed was at least better than the floor. He could almost imagine living like this ¨C travelling from city to city, only staying out in the forest around full moon. Except it would probably get lonely very fast, and the money wouldn¡¯t last him long either, unless he could find some form of income.


    Maybe he could make the railway thing work. Mr. Higgins had said that most of the crews were made up of convicted criminals who were given the choice between the rope and the railway, so maybe they would hire a werewolf as well?


    Unlikely.

 Map of Eastern Loegrion

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 Chapter 4

    Eoforwic smelled of smoke, and soot covered every surface. A lot of people carried umbrellas against the fine rain of ash that was falling out of the sky. Greg shuddered. The city seemed dark, and somehow grim.


    Deva, as capital of Loegrion and seat of the Valoisian occupation, was home to people from all over the world, and then there was the harbour, which brought in even more folks. Eoforwic on the other hand was a factory town, deep in the province, and thus had few citizens from outside of Loegrion. Which meant that Greg with his dark skin and curly hair stood out a lot more.


    There was nothing he could do about that, though. He didn¡¯t have time to waste. People on the streets were giving him strange looks, especially when he asked for the Lackland Railway Company, so he hurried along his way. He actually had to leave the city proper and cross a channel, to where a new industrial district was being raised out of what until recently had probably been sprawling pastures. The area didn¡¯t even have walls yet, despite the fact that the Rot-infested swamps around the Savre were really close. All Greg could see were flat ditches surrounding the area, which would no doubt be filled with fire came nightfall.


    There was a small crowd waiting outside the brand new building with the big relief showing King Lackland kill the Knucker, the terrifying water dragon that, in times long past, had terrorised Breachpoint and the surrounding coasts.


    Greg couldn¡¯t help but wonder how Duke George-Louis had gotten away with that. Using the name Lackland was sufficiently ambiguous that the Valoise would probably let it rest, but adorning his company¡¯s headquarters with King Lackland¡¯s most heroic feat? There was no way to sell that off as supporting the Roi Solei.


    ¡°Like it?¡±


    Greg jumped a little when he realized that there was a man standing right next to him. He wore heavy, hobnailed boots, pants stained with dirt, and a grubby white shirt.


    ¡°It¡¯s ¨C impressive,¡± Greg said after a few seconds, since it didn¡¯t seem like the man would go away without an answer.


    That seemed to satisfy. The man nodded to himself, and asked: ¡°Ye here to work?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yeah, sure,¡± Greg said, and eyed the stranger again. His tanned skin underneath the all-present grime made Greg guess that his family had at some point in time come from someplace more sunny than Loegrion, and he was quite tall but very skinny, with black hair, and beard, and a narrow nose. Greg had a hard time judging his age. Thirty, maybe? Or younger? The beard made it difficult. He certainly didn¡¯t look like he had any say in who got to work on the railway, and who didn¡¯t.


    The stranger held out a hand. ¡°Isaac,¡± he introduced himself.


    ¡°Greg,¡± Greg said, and shook the offered hand.


    ¡°Wanna meet the boss?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°We¡¯re forming a butty gang, and need some more people.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a butty gang?¡±


    Isaac gave him a funny look, but then just shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s the smart way to do this job. Ye form a group, ye see, with people ye can trust. Not just anyone, ye know? Mostly it¡¯s my brothers and cousins, ye see, and uncle Eyal is gang leader. Mr. Levi to you. He does all the negotiations. We did a lot of work on the harbour line. We take on a subcontract for a stretch, and get paid once it¡¯s completed. Even shares for everyone.¡±


    ¡°So you guys have experience in this? Why do you want me?¡±


    Isaac barked a laugh. ¡°Sharp one, are ye? See, this new company, they really want this job done fast, so they¡¯re making the crews bigger. Only, they got no volunteers, especially not for the foresty bit in the middle. So they¡¯re filling them up with prisoners. Give them a choice between the forests and the rope. Can¡¯t work with men like that, can ye? Can¡¯t turn ye back on them. So we¡¯re trying to recruit more people ourselves.¡±


    ¡°From ¨C from the volunteers showing up?¡± Greg asked. ¡°How is that helping?¡±


    Isaac fidgeted a little, but went on explaining: ¡°Well, ye see, each butty gang gets assigned a stretch. So, if all the serious people are in our butty gang, we can at least get our part of the job done. Collect the premium, move on to the next part of the line. Everybody wins, ye see? Our people get paid, the company gets the work done. Everyone else gets the railway. Finally travelling safe through the forest, and all that.¡±


    ¡°And what about those people over there?¡± Greg asked with a look towards the crowd that was milling in front of the building.


    ¡°Half of them are part of the gang already,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Other half is cowards and crazies. Or getting drafted by us.¡±


    Greg tried to have a better look, find out what made so many of them ¡°crazies¡±, but Isaac had already grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him over to a small group of people, watching on from the sidelines. In the middle stood a big man with arms and legs like tree trunks. He wore the same sturdy boots as Isaac, but his trousers were a little less worn and his shirt a little less grubby. Uncle Eyal, Greg guessed. At least Isaac and he looked like they had come to Loegrion from the same region.


    ¡°I think I found another one, boss,¡± Isaac said, pushing through to the big man. ¡°This is Greg.¡±


    A huge hand was offered to him, and Greg felt his bones grind against each other when they shook.


    ¡°Greg, huh? Not from around here, are you?¡±


    ¡°From Deva.¡±


    ¡°And before that?¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes.


    ¡°I was born in Deva,¡± he replied. ¡°As were my father and mother. And my father¡¯s father. My ancestors came from Amhara, if you must know, before the Valoise set foot here.¡±


    ¡°And what brings you to the railway?¡± Eyal wanted to know.


    Greg had expected this question, and it hadn¡¯t been exactly hard to come up with a story. ¡°There was a girl,¡± he said. ¡°A Valoisian girl,¡± he added. ¡°Her father wasn¡¯t happy about it.¡±


    Eyal nailed him with eyes as dark as coal, but then he just asked: ¡°Was she happy about it?¡±


    Greg had expected some insinuating remark about those ¡®racy Valoisian ladies acting all prim and proper¡¯ or something along those lines, so the question caught him off guard.


    ¡°What?¡± Greg said ¡°There wasn¡¯t ¨C yeah, she was happy. We were barely even holding hands.¡±


    It sounded really dumb, like he was some gormless wimp, but again, the comments he expected didn¡¯t come.


    Instead, Eyal eyed him again. ¡°Fine,¡± he said eventually. ¡°And you think you¡¯re tough enough to make it out there?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been hunting werewolves with my father,¡± Greg gave back, before he could stop himself. ¡°Yes, I think I can handle myself.¡±


    It was a really stupid thing to say, and he regretted it at once, when everybody in the group turned to stare at him. But at least he could present his crossbow and the four silver-tipped bolts as proof. Now he just had to hope that news about the youngest son of Bram Feleke, werewolf hunter extraordinaire, getting bitten on his first hunt, hadn¡¯t already travelled to Eoforwic.


    Apparently not. Somebody behind him muttered: ¡°We should take him along just for that.¡±


    Greg craned his head to see who had been talking, but there was just a sea of faces around him. He turned back to Eyal. He still wasn¡¯t quite sure if they were trying to win him over, or test him. In any case, their advertisement strategy left something to be desired.


    When the big man didn¡¯t say anything more, Greg asked: ¡°Isaac said you want me for your ¨C butty gang. What¡¯s in it for me?¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t be working with a bunch of criminals, for once,¡± Eyal said.


    That wasn¡¯t particularly impressive, as far as Greg was concerned. Stealing bread to feed your starving children could be a hanging offence. Making fun of the Roi Solei would get you drawn and quartered, if a Valoisian official got wind of it. Be accused of blasphemy, heresy, unsanctioned magic, worshipping anyone other than Mithras, or whatever else the clergy considered immoral or indecent this month, and the Inquisition would start getting really creative in your death sentence. If the Lackland Railway Company really wanted their railway build, they had plenty of convicts to choose from, whose worst crime was something as horrifying as a woman dressing up in men''s clothes.


    Or simply being poor.


    Eyal seemed to note his doubt, because he continued: ¡°We did work on the harbour line, and we got ourselves a name for doing good work fast. The subcontractor is going to take that into account when we negotiate prices for our stretch. I know that for sure, cause it¡¯s the same subcontractor we worked with before. So if you sign up with us, and work well, I can promise you better pay than you¡¯ll get if you hire with one of the other crews.¡±


    ¡°And if I don¡¯t work well?¡±


    ¡°Well, this isn¡¯t a charity. We won¡¯t wipe your arse for you.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg muttered.


    ¡°Also, we¡¯re trying to get enough people on board that they don¡¯t saddle us with convicts, too.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll be more people to split the money with, though, right?¡±


    Greg wasn¡¯t quite sure why he was even asking the question. It wasn¡¯t like he had come here for the money. Any crew would get him out of the city and into the wilderness.


    Or would it?


    On his way to Eoforwic, the coach had passed the building site for a line from Eoforwic to Deva, right into the rural heartlands of Loegrion. If this crew worked on a line through the more densely populated areas as well, his whole plan could fall apart.


    ¡°More people, yeah. But we¡¯re looking for the right people, disciplined people. We¡¯re not after the heartland contracts, those are cheap. We¡¯re after the forest contract, up to the mines at Sheaf, where the big money is."


    ¡°And the Rot.¡±


    Eyal frowned. ¡°Thought you had guts. If you¡¯re scared to go into the forest, just run along now, don¡¯t waste my time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Greg hurried to say. Sheaf should work just fine for his purpose? He should have brought a map. ¡°Just curious. Why are you all going into the woods?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t see how that¡¯s any of your business.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°Fine. When does this job start?¡±


    ¡°Should have started yesterday,¡± Eyal said. ¡°Nobody¡¯s telling us what the holdup is about, but we should be moving out tomorrow or the day after at the latest.¡±


    ¡°So before new moon,¡± Greg muttered, more to himself than the rest of the crowd, but the boss still narrowed his eyes at him.


    ¡°Before new moon, yes. If we do get trouble with werewolves, think you can deal with that?¡±


    ¡°Werewolves, plural? Unlikely,¡± Greg said honestly. ¡°If it¡¯s just one, then yeah, there¡¯s a chance that I can take care of it.¡±


    ¡°A chance, huh?¡±


    ¡°Forewarned is forearmed with werewolves,¡± Greg said, quoting his father. ¡°If I see it coming, I can shoot it. If I don¡¯t see it coming¡­ If we find tracks, I can go after it before it comes for us, but out there in the forest, you often don¡¯t see the tracks before the monster is standing right in front of you. Besides, I only got four silver bolts.¡±


    Eyal was silent for a moment, and then nodded. ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    The big man held out his hand again. ¡°So, you on board?¡±


    Greg gripped the huge shovel of a hand that was offered to him. Again, his hand felt like it was getting crushed, but at least he managed not to wince.


    ¡°Isaac can show you a place where you can stay for the night,¡± Eyal said. ¡°Don¡¯t wander too far, we might be moving out anytime.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg muttered.


    Isaac was already tugging at his sleeve.


    ¡°Got a decent pair of boots?¡± the slender man wanted to know. And before Greg could answer to that, he added: ¡°Not to worry, I know a place where we can get ye kitted out. Got some money on ye?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yeah, I can pay for boots.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Isaac said. ¡°That¡¯s ¨C good.¡±


    ¡°Why are you sounding so surprised?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Well, if ye still got some cash on ye, why¡¯re ye here in the first place? And where¡¯d you get the money?¡±


    ¡°I earned it,¡± Greg said, a little defensively. ¡°And I want to earn more. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. Isn¡¯t that why you guys are here?¡±


    Isaac shrugged. ¡°Yeah, sure. How¡¯d ye earn the money?¡±


    ¡°I told you,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°My father hunts werewolves. He took me out on a hunt. I was just a beater, but things didn¡¯t go as planned, so I ended up killing one of the werewolves.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a beater?¡±


    So Greg explained the difference between a beater and a shooter, and what they did on a hunt. Isaac wanted to know all about his first hunt, and Greg found himself telling him a lot more than he had meant to. By the time they reached the inn Isaac was taking him to, he had even started talking about his family a little, but he did shut up when he saw the place where he was supposed to spend the night. It looked more like a poor house to Greg than an inn. There were dozens of simple straw mattresses, and a chest at the end of each, all in one long room which stank of dirt and unwashed clothing, no privacy at all, no windows, and just a few guttering lamps.


    ¡°Not the palace ye grew up in, huh? Just be glad the roof isn¡¯t leaking,¡± Isaac griped.


    For a second Greg wondered how Isaac knew that he had been born noble, but then he realized that the other man was just making fun of his unease.


    ¡°Oh, and there¡¯s ye brother. How old are ye, anyway?¡±


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    ¡°Eighteen,¡± Greg lied without even looking at him.


    It took him a while to realize what Isaac was talking about. There was someone sitting on one of the cots, a young man with skin as dark as Greg¡¯s and intricate braids in his hair. Only, when Greg looked at the ¡°brother¡± again, he wasn¡¯t even sure it really was a guy. It was hard to tell in the gloomy light of the room. The person wore workmen¡¯s clothing, sure, the boots and the trousers, and cross dressing was a crime the Church of Mithras did not look kindly upon, but there was something about the face even in the deep shadows of the room that made Greg think he might be in fact a she.


    ¡°Hey, Thoko, this is Greg!¡± Isaac was already calling over.


    When Thoko got up from ¡°his¡± cot, in one graceful movement, and came sauntering over, Greg grinned. ¡°Brother, huh?¡± he muttered. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± Thoko greeted him. She made no attempt to disguise the pitch of her voice, and Greg realized that Isaac had called her his brother not because he really thought she was a man, but to make sure Greg stuck to the story.


    Thoko of course wanted to know what brought him to the railway, as well, and Greg gave her the same story as Eyal, and then had to make up a name for his ¡°crush.¡± He really should have thought better about his story, because the first Valoisian name that came to his mind was deLande, so he ended up naming her Chantal deLande. There had been a Chantal in the house next door, and he had had a crush on her when he¡¯d been about six, so at least he should be able to remember the name.


    ¡°What about you?¡± he asked Thoko. ¡°Is that your real name, Thoko?¡±


    ¡°Thokozani,¡± Thoko said. ¡°I¡¯m from Manthimba, you¡¯ve probably never heard of it.¡±


    ¡°Capital of Maravi and seat of the Kalonga, the king of the Chewa. The city was destroyed some fifty years ago, when the Yao came and forced large parts of the Chewa people north, to sell them as slaves to the Valoise. You don¡¯t look like you¡¯re fifty,¡± Greg added.


    ¡°Oh, thanks a lot,¡± Thoko said. ¡°My father was a Banda. Know what that means, smart boy?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Greg admitted.


    ¡°It means sage, but also healer and metallurgist. He stayed as long as possible even after, to take care of those of our people who remained.¡±


    ¡°Unsanctioned magic,¡± Greg muttered.


    ¡°We stayed even after the Mithrans had moved in,¡± Thoko went on, as if he hadn¡¯t said anything. ¡°But eventually, he was betrayed. I was just a kid when we escaped the Inquisition. Eventually ended up in Loegrion.¡±


    Where it was not exactly safe, but a lot easier to go unnoticed. Because the Valoise considered Loegrion a cursed land, where their sacred sun didn¡¯t shine hot enough to burn out the Rot during summer. So they took a much more laid back approach to enforcing their laws, and years could pass without even a single Inquisitional trial.


    ¡°We thought we were safe here,¡± Thoko continued, her voice bitter. ¡°But just a few months ago, they came and took father, for the big witchcraft trial. Burned him at the stake.¡±


    Greg had no idea what to say to that. There had been three mass trials last year, one for heresy, one for sinful practices, and the last one for witchcraft, right before the winter solstice. The wound had to still be fresh.


    ¡°So I¡¯m here to make sure we can give him a proper burial.¡±


    ¡°A burial?¡± Greg looked at Thoko in confusion.


    Thoko in turn looked at Isaac, a little alarmed, Greg thought.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t like us,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Family of werewolf hunters. They got no beef with the Inquisition, and money to boot. He¡¯s just here to weather the storm.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re here why?¡± Greg tried again.


    ¡°Duke George Louis promised land to everyone on the crew that completes the line up to Mannin. Land north of Mannin, where the Church doesn¡¯t ever go. And his protection, in case that changes.¡±


    ¡°But Eyal said you¡¯re doing a line towards Sheaf?"


    ¡°Because of the iron mines, yeah,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Ye see, they first got to bring the steel to Eoforwic, otherwise they can¡¯t build the line all the way to Mannin.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to cross the Savre to get to Mannin,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°That¡¯s, like, the worst Rot territory.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, ye see, that¡¯s kind of the point. If we can get through that, then the line can go anywhere. All the way over the mountains, to the west coast, for example. Open up the High Plains, make all the wealth buried up there accessible. Beat back the Rot and make the land arable. Truly unify this country.¡±


    ¡°And make the duke king in the process.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it to us? Or are ye standing with the Valoise?¡±


    Greg scoffed, which was about all the answer that question deserved.


    ¡°Might be nice, actually,¡± he said after a moment, ¡°to have a king of Loegrion to challenge the rule of the Roi Solei.¡±


    There. Now they were all guilty of a crime the Valoise would kill for. Greg could see Thoko and Isaac relax. Of course, if they knew why he was really here, they would be running straight to the authorities, screaming all the way.


    Greg sighed inwardly, and changed the topic. ¡°You said something about boots, Isaac.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± said the other man. ¡°Right. Boots. And a shovel, and an axe and stuff. Torches. Some sturdy clothes. Got a coat?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what¡¯s on offer,¡± Greg replied. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s something better than what I have.¡±


    ¡°See what I mean?¡± Isaac asked Thoko. ¡°Got money to spend, our young lord.¡±


    ¡°Very funny,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°No point in carrying silver into the forest and freezing my arse off, is there?¡±


    Isaac hesitated. ¡°Probably not,¡± he admitted after a moment. ¡°Normally, I¡¯d say save some money for women and beer, but there won¡¯t be neither out in the forest anyway.¡±


    ¡°What about food?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re supposed to send supplies after us, we¡¯ll have to see how that works out. We¡¯ll certainly be sure to bring lots of extra food. But ye can hunt, can¡¯t you? Or is that only for werewolves?¡±


    ¡°I can hunt,¡± Greg said. ¡°I should bring some more bolts, though.¡±


    Thoko stayed behind in the gloom of the inn, out of sight, and Isaac led Greg to a shabby little shop around the corner of the big headquarters. It was inside the same building, in a little room in the basement, stuffed full of clothes that looked already used, and sometimes like they hadn¡¯t even been washed.


    ¡°What happens if a worker can¡¯t pay for his equipment?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s no problem at all,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Shop¡¯s run by the company, so ye can always get truck for wages.¡±


    ¡°Do all the workers have to shop here?¡± Greg asked with a look at the prices. He was pretty sure that he could get a better pair of boots ¨C a new pair of boots at the very least ¨C from any shoemaker in the city, and wouldn¡¯t pay more. Less, possibly.


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It¡¯s too late to go into the city now.¡±


    ¡°Of course it is,¡± Greg muttered.


    He wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if the company changed the move-out dates around on purpose, so the workers had to stay close by and buy the overpriced stuff the company sold. He could just about reckon how much money they either saved in wages that way, or got back from wages already paid. If he had known this beforehand, he would have shopped in the city.


    Too late now, though, even if he hadn¡¯t seen any papers yet, let alone something resembling a contract. The faster he got away from Eoforwic, the better.


    Isaac watched him like a hawk while he found a pair of work boots that looked almost new, also a coat, and some tools. He was very hesitant to buy clothes as well, until Isaac told him that they wouldn¡¯t actually have to carry everything they brought.


    ¡°Nah,¡± the other man said. ¡°There¡¯s a cart, ye see. Ye telling me that ye guys carry everything when ye go hunting?¡±


    ¡°Generally speaking, yes.¡± Greg moved over to another rack to inspect the work trousers on offer. ¡°Depends on how big the werewolves¡¯ territory is, and whether or not they¡¯re staying put, how much you know about where they¡¯re hiding, all that. Sometimes you follow the trail for weeks. If you bring too much stuff, it¡¯s just going to slow your horse down. That¡¯s a pretty good way to get killed, when you¡¯re hunting werewolves. Or worse.¡±


    He bought one additional pair of trousers, but no other clothes, and invested instead in a washboard and a bar of soap. The washboard could be attached to the knapsack he had brought, and the soap fitted easily inside with the rest of his clothes. The new coat and boots didn¡¯t fit, but Greg had some hope that if he tied them to his pack, he would only lose the tools, once full moon came around. And the washboard might be really useful.


    ¡°Do you even know how to use that?¡± Isaac asked, when Greg picked it out.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Greg gave back with the straightest face he could manage. ¡°We always take a cook and a maid out hunting. But I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be able to teach me.¡±


    When Isaac stared at him, Greg rolled his eyes and stepped up to the counter. He was a little nervous about paying. There was no way he would let anyone here know that he actually had some gold left, and every time he got burnt it got a little harder to touch the silver without flinching.


    Outside, Greg buried his tingling right hand in his pocket, and set off for the shabby inn at a brisk pace. Isaac had to hurry after him. Greg was a little surprised that he did.


    ¡°Are you babysitting all the new guys like this, or am I getting the special treatment?¡±


    ¡°Just going in the same direction,¡± Isaac replied.


    Greg didn¡¯t really believe him, but he let it slide. He wasn¡¯t sure whether he liked Isaac and his snide remarks. Back at the inn, he dropped his new belongings in the chest at the foot of his cot, and let himself sink down onto the straw mattress. He really longed for a proper bath, some hot food, and a comfortable bed, and he really didn¡¯t want to think about how long it might be until he got either again. If he ever did.


    He raised an eyebrow at Isaac, who was standing next to his bed as if he was going to make another quip, but then the other man asked instead: ¡°Ye not gonna go to sleep, are ye? What about dinner?¡±


    ¡°Not hungry,¡± Greg said.


    Which was half the truth. He really wasn¡¯t too hungry, and the smell in the large, yet stuffy room wasn¡¯t exactly appetizing either. He was very relieved when Isaac finally walked away. Just when he was about to close his eyes to maybe doze a little, Thoko sat down on the ground next to him.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t want to eat anything at all?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Do you think there¡¯s going to be anything worth eating?¡± Greg gave back, and then cursed himself silently for setting himself up for more ribbing.


    ¡°I guess that depends on how hungry you are,¡± Thoko replied.


    ¡°Not very,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°I ate when I got off the coach, in the city.¡±


    ¡°Might still be good to meet the rest of the gang,¡± Thoko pointed out.


    Greg rubbed his face. ¡°You have already met them, right? How?¡±


    Thoko shrugged. ¡°I first met them a few months ago, right after ¨C after. We were all there when the duke first set up the company, right around new year, here in Eoforwic. Everyone else thought it was crazy, building a railway line all the way to Mannin. Most people left before the podium was over. I guess, the people who stayed were the people like I, who felt they had nothing to lose. And then, when it looked like it was over and the room was almost empty, the duke himself took the stage, to up the ante, I guess. That was when he made the land offer.¡±


    Thoko shrugged. ¡°Suddenly, there were Eyal and his sons. I overheard them when they were actually making plans right there, how to keep the Rot away, and things like that, to pitch to the duke and his company representative. They made it sound doable. Even sane. And then there is the land. I mean, where else can someone like me, my family, get their own piece of land, where we can live our way of life, without constantly having to fear the Inquisition?¡±


    Yes, that all sounded very much like what he knew of the Duke of Mannin.


    ¡°The duke must have known that, no doubt,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°I bet it wasn¡¯t coincidence that he waited until all the other people had left. He actually wants the people who are desperate, who have nowhere else to turn.¡±


    ¡°You make that sound like a bad thing,¡± Thoko scoffed. ¡°He¡¯s giving us a chance no one else would.¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯s expecting you to do something which most people would say is tantamount to suicide¡±, Greg replied. ¡°Seems to me like he¡¯s getting the better end of the deal. And he¡¯s holding all the cards to boot.¡±


    ¡°You think he¡¯s going to screw us over?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if, if you actually do complete the line to Mannin, you¡¯ll only get the land if you agree to work on his next lines as well. In which case you¡¯d still get the land, and your family could still bury your father, but anyway ¨C he holds all the cards, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    Thoko thought about that for a moment. Finally she asked: ¡°Why are you really here?¡±


    ¡°I told you -¡±


    ¡°Yeah yeah, a Valoisian girl. I¡¯m not stupid, Greg. You¡¯ve had an education, anyone can tell, you¡¯ve got the money. Hell, your father is a werewolf hunter. You could have gone on a nice long hunt somewhere far away, or start over pretty much anywhere. But you came here, to the railway, to do a job that is in your own words, tantamount to suicide.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± Greg asked. ¡°I¡¯ve got some reasons of my own, just like Isaac and his family.¡±


    ¡°So you aren¡¯t going to run out on us as soon as we¡¯re out of the city?¡±


    Greg swallowed hard. ¡°Why would I do that?¡± he managed to reply. ¡°If I wanted to do that, why would I even be here? I can walk away right now ¨C or at least as soon as the sun comes up.¡±


    Thoko tilted her head at him, frowning. ¡°Fine,¡± she huffed after a moment. ¡°Be that way. I still don¡¯t trust you.¡±


    That was fine with Greg. He wasn¡¯t sure he trusted this butty gang either. And it wasn¡¯t like he was here to make friends. He didn¡¯t go to join the others at dinner.


    Greg had just dozed off into an uneasy sleep, when it sounded as if downstairs, in the refectory, a battle had started. It probably shouldn¡¯t have surprised him. Soon, most of the men would move out to do very dangerous work, and it wasn¡¯t sure when and if they would come back. Of course there was a party tonight.


    Greg stared into the gloom. For a moment, he contemplated joining in, but after the conversation he¡¯d just had with Thoko he really wasn¡¯t sure how he¡¯d be welcomed. And anyway, he barely knew these people.


    His mind wandered back home, to his brothers and parents. He was fairly certain that his mother at least would be worried about him. His brothers? He had no idea. They had never talked about the fact that some werewolves were basically normal people, except for full moon night.


    But of course, his family didn¡¯t know that he was one of them.


    Greg pushed himself upright. For all his family knew, he might be a raging monster, running wild through the forest right now, a danger for anybody he happened across. He got up, and threw his pack onto his back, leaving only the stuff he had bought today in his chest.


    It was almost completely dark when Greg stepped outside, with just a hint of pink visible above the forest. The streets, which had been full of people during the day, were deserted now, except for the guards with their silver helmets and their torches, who were responsible for keeping the fire pits burning.


    ¡°Hey, you!¡± Greg was hailed before he had taken ten steps, and two guards came towards him quickly. ¡°What are you doing out here?¡±


    ¡°I need some paper,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Paper,¡± repeated the one who had hailed him. ¡°Are you drunk, man? It¡¯s almost dark.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s safe, isn¡¯t it?¡± Greg asked. ¡°Inside the fire pits?¡±


    The guards exchanged a look, and the speaker grabbed Greg by the shoulders, turned him around. ¡°Look over there, man. Behind the flames. See the movement? They can¡¯t cross. Doesn¡¯t mean they can¡¯t get inside your head.¡±


    Greg stared at the flickering flames of the fire pits. They weren¡¯t nearly as high as he had expected, and he did see movement on the other side. There it was, the Rot. He had seen drawings, sure, and his father and brothers all had had close encounters. They had talked about huge, towering figures, but the first creature Greg saw was about the size of a dog. He blinked and looked closer, and realized that it was a dog. More precisely, the carcass of a dog, overgrown and animated by the Rot. Greg thought he could see some mushrooms and dead leaves sprouting out of its head.


    He could feel his heart beating faster, and for a second his breath hitched. Behind him, the guards groaned.


    ¡°Here we go,¡± muttered the guard who had spoken, and made to grab his arms, as if to restrain him.


    ¡°No,¡± Greg said quickly, and took several steps backwards, away from the fire. ¡°I¡¯m ¨C I¡¯m okay.¡±


    ¡°Lucky bastard,¡± the guard said. ¡°Now get back inside, before something bigger shows up and turns your mind inside out.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yeah, just ¨C is there an office, or something? I really just need a sheet of paper and an envelope.¡±


    The guards stared at him in disbelieve.


    ¡°Crazy, are ye,¡± said the one who hadn¡¯t spoken yet. ¡°Fine, Brian, take him back to the office, if this letter is so important to him, then check the eastern perimeter again.


    ¡°What could possibly be so important that you have to write a letter about it tonight?¡± Brian wanted to know, as soon as the other guard continued his rounds.


    ¡°There was an accident,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°I think my family might think I¡¯m dead, and I go out of the city tomorrow and don¡¯t know when I¡¯ll get a chance to send a letter again.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Brian. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much sense there is in risking your life to let people know you¡¯re alive, but okay. If you¡¯d told me you forgot to tell your girl that you love her, or some blather, I¡¯d have knocked you senseless and carried you back inside, no matter what the sergeant says.¡±


    The little guards¡¯ station was completely empty and smelled of tea and silver polish. Greg guessed that all available men were outside, checking perimeters and making sure the fires burnt steadily. The silver coating on their helmets protected the guards against the insidious aura the Rot creatures emitted, but if the fires burned down, they didn¡¯t have a hope in hell to hold the line if the Rot really came. So Greg wasn¡¯t surprised when Brian rummaged through a pile of papers, handed him a couple of crinkled sheets and an envelope, and escorted him back outside within a minute. He was obviously in a hurry to get Greg back to the inn.


    When Greg returned to the large dorm room, it was still empty. The ruckus had died down though, and now he could hear singing and some instruments. The music was very different from what was played in Deva¡¯s concert halls and theatres, and Greg was fairly certain that all the singing was done in a language that was neither Valoise nor Loegrian.


    He tried to ignore the tunes wafting by, but he still got caught up in the slow, melancholy mood of the melody. It didn¡¯t help him to find the words he was looking for.


    ¡°Dear Mother and Father,¡± was all he had so far.


    ¡°I hope this finds all of you in good health,¡± he went on, and felt a little stupid for using the tired old phrase. But then again, it was the truth.


    ¡°I am well, too,¡± he continued, which was mostly true. ¡°I guess ibn Sina has already talked to you by now about what happened, so you know why I had to leave, and why I can¡¯t tell you where I am. But I am okay.


    I mean, I am still Greg, if you know what I mean. But I guess this letter tells you all that anyway.¡±


    Greg sighed. He was babbling, but he had no idea what else to say.


    ¡°I hope Andrew¡¯s arm is getting better,¡± he added, and then gave up.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving for the forests soon, and I don¡¯t know when and if I will be able to write again. I wish you all well and I love you.


    Good bye


    Greg¡±


    He read the whole thing again and decided there really wasn¡¯t anything else to add, so he folded the paper, closed the envelope, and walked down to find somebody to give the letter to, and hope that for a little extra coin they would post it. All he found was a boy, maybe ten or eleven years old, who was leaning on a broom, clearly in the process of not swiping the floor.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Greg said. ¡°Do you ever go into the old city?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Greg smiled wryly. ¡°I have a letter to post, and I won¡¯t have time to do it myself.¡±


    The boy gave it some thought. ¡°Yeah, I can do that,¡± he decided eventually. ¡°Dad sends me to the city anyway, to post our own mail. But what¡¯s in it for me?¡±


    ¡°This letter is for Deva,¡± Greg explained. ¡°Which should cost about half a silver. I¡¯ll give you a full silver, and you can keep the change. How does that sound?¡±


    ¡°Half a silver,¡± the kid was clearly sceptical, ¡°for putting a letter in the mail.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Greg said, and pulled out the coin.


    ¡°Okay!¡± said the kid, and swiped the coin out of his hand. Then he actually held out a hand for the letter.


    Greg had to fight the urge to rub warmth back into his throbbing fingers, and handed over the envelope.


    ¡°Pleasure to do business with you, good sir¡± said the kid with a mocking bow and an attempt on a posh accent. Then he ran off, leaving his broom behind.


    Greg looked after the boy, and shook his head. He could only hope that the kid took this ¡®business¡¯ more serious than sweeping the floor.


    He went back upstairs, and let himself drop onto his cot, kicked away his boots, and wrapped himself into the thin, musty smelling blanket.

 Chapter 5

    When David, Nathan, and their father returned home from the bishop¡¯s land and another successful hunt, it was Andrew who waited for them in the yard, not one of the footmen.


    ¡°Greg is gone,¡± he said.


    David frowned. ¡°What do you mean, Greg is gone? He could barely walk when we left.¡±


    ¡°He took a cab to the post office and boarded a coach to Eoforwic. Paid the full fare, but we don¡¯t know if he reached the city.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Bram said.


    But they did. They did understand. They just didn¡¯t want it to be true.


    Tomorrow was full moon.


    Their father was already sprinting up the stairs, while Nathan moved on into the stables, taking the saddle off the horse that had carried him home and preparing a new one. David didn¡¯t need to see to know that it would be Bairn, their father¡¯s best stallion.


    Greg had a headstart of several days, but Nathan was the fastest of them, both on foot and horseback. And he would not hesitate to ride a good horse to death if it meant catching up with their youngest brother.


    Andrew and David stared at each other. This was their fault: If Andrew hadn¡¯t broken his bloody arm, less than two days before the big hunt, they could have found somebody else. And he, David, could have talked their father out of letting Greg join, but hadn¡¯t, despite his misgivings.


    ¡°Mum is upstairs,¡± Andrew said.


    David swallowed hard, but he went.


    ¡°You promised!¡± Imani greeted him, crying. ¡°You promised to keep him safe!¡±


    ¡°And I will, Mum,¡± David said, because he refused to acknowledge that it might be too late, that it probably was too late, that his little brother might be gone. That a monster might have taken his place. ¡°Nathan is getting fresh horses ready.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s full moon,¡± his father said quietly. ¡°You can¡¯t go after him tonight.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll take us days to catch up with him,¡± David replied. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t waste any more time. Besides, we can¡¯t be sure ¨C we checked him over a dozen times.¡±


    He knew it was a stupid hope, and it was crushed before they could get into an argument about it: Andrew was leading Dr. ibn Sina upstairs, Nathan on their heels. David could barely hear what the doctor had to say over the rushing in his ears. He could only watch on as ibn Sina shattered what was left of his mother¡¯s hope and composure.


    They had all known that something like this might happen to one of them. It was a topic that sometimes crept up when a sufficient amount of beer had flowed. Every full moon, month after month, some hunters went out to kill monsters and came back monsters themselves.


    And some of those who were hunted as monsters were ordinary people twenty-eight nights out of twenty-nine.


    David clung to that thought ¨C something he usually tried very hard to forget ¨C as he watched his father hug his mother. They were both crying now, and Andrew and Nathan, too. David had no tears, though, just anger. Because this was wrong. It shouldn¡¯t have been Greg, who had so many other talents, who hated sleeping outdoors and couldn¡¯t track to save his life. Who hated conflict and killing.


    It had been just a matter of time for Greg to get over his hero-worship for ¡°the Feleke Four¡±, for him to realize that there were so many other things he could be besides a werewolf hunter. Better things. Like Andrew, who was on his way out, too, into a different life.


    David just stood there, waiting, until his father looked at him, and nodded.


    ¡°Bring him back,¡± his mother called after him and Nathan, as they took the stairs two steps at a time, down into the courtyard where fresh horses were waiting. Their iron horseshoes kicked sparks out of the cobblestones as they sped out of the city.


    People jumped out of the way and cursed at them, whereas the guards at the gates just yelled: ¡°Good hunting!¡±


    Greg had taken the mail coach, so that was the route they followed. He had paid the full fare to Eoforwic, but couldn¡¯t have reached the city yet.


    He would probably try to avoid large settlements ¨C the route to Eoforwic ran close to the Savre and the river¡¯s Rot-infested shores. That was where they would start their search.


    ¡°Do we ask around the inns?¡± Nathan asked when they allowed the horses to walk for a few miles instead of run. ¡°Someone might have seen him. But if two werewolf hunters ask after him, well, you know...¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll ask,¡± David said. ¡°If we ask the questions in the right way, nobody will draw the wrong conclusion.¡±


    ¡°Should have brought Andrew,¡± Nathan said.


    ¡°He¡¯d only slow us down.¡±


    Andrew was good at talking to people, but with his broken arm, there was no way he would be able to keep up.


    Not even without the broken arm. Andrew liked animals too much to drive his horse the way they needed to.


    ¡°What do we do if he¡¯s ¨C you know ¨C gone?¡± Nathan asked when they were sitting side by side on the forest floor. They both knew they needed to sleep, and that there was no way they would.


    David shrugged. ¡°No point of putting that pain on them, is there?¡±


    No point in forcing their parents to speak a death sentence over their own son.


    ¡°Right,¡± Nathan muttered, rubbing warmth into his hands. ¡°He¡¯s out there, somewhere,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Must have transformed about an hour ago.¡±


    They both looked up at the moon, full and round above them.


    ¡°Think he¡¯ll be all right?¡± Nathan added.


    ¡°Tonight? Yes,¡± David said. ¡°Tomorrow? That¡¯ll depend on how far he managed to go. It¡¯s unlikely, even if ¨C if things go badly, that other hunters will be close, he¡¯s too smart for that. If he doesn¡¯t garner himself a bounty, we should be able to catch up with him before anyone else does. And if we can¡¯t, that will be a good sign.¡±


    Between the two of them, they could track any mad werewolf down before new moon. A sane one was another matter. Greg was smart, and he knew how hunters worked, even if he had never done the work himself.


    They gave up on sleep an hour before the moon set, and spurred the horses on in an ambling gait, faster than a walk, slower than a canter, and smooth enough that David felt himself fighting sleep once the sun was up.


    ¡°Do we switch horses?¡± Nathan asked the next time an inn came up.


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said a little hesitatingly. ¡°And let¡¯s ask around, too.¡±


    Nobody remembered Greg, which confirmed David¡¯s expectation that their brother had travelled further north into the badlands. Outside of Deva, their dark skin should be noticeable enough that people would remember Greg.


    They paid a man to have Bairn and David¡¯s gelding returned to Deva. The farmer had never heard of the Baron of Courtenay, but he did know about the Feleke Four and was eager to help. The family¡¯s reputation got them better horses, too, than they would have otherwise been sold.


    When night fell, they had no choice but to get a room in one of the coaching inns. They were both flagging after the sleepless night, and they hadn¡¯t remembered to bring protection against the Rot, either. Plus, they were close to a sidearm of the Savre now. It was well possible that Greg was somewhere nearby, and they didn¡¯t want to accidentally shoot him. They had no idea what his werewolf form would look like.


    Hot food was welcome, too. All they had brought were the leftover provisions from their last hunt.


    ¡°Third night of full moon,¡± Nathan said. When David didn¡¯t react to that statement of the obvious, he added: ¡°Why do you think he ran?¡±


    ¡°Had to, didn¡¯t he?¡± David sighed. ¡°Couldn¡¯t stay in Deva. Question is, why he didn¡¯t say anything.¡±


    Except to ibn Sina, of all people.


    The answer to that question was pretty damn obvious, of course. They were werewolf hunters. Greg was a werewolf now.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t really think we¡¯d come after him with silver, did he?¡±


    David just stared gloomily at the ceiling.


    ¡°Stupid,¡± Nathan muttered. ¡°And even more stupid, if he thinks we¡¯ll just abandon him.¡±


    David closed his eyes.


    ¡°What if he doesn¡¯t want to go back with us?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll burn that bridge when we get there,¡± David replied. ¡°Let¡¯s find him, first.¡±


    That turned out to be more tricky than expected. Three days later, they found a little island in the middle of a creek, where somebody had lit a fire, and plenty of werewolf tracks around. They wasted another day following them, only to realize they all returned to the little creek. People at the next inn remembered a young black man who had survived a coaching accident and made a coin walk across the back of his hand.


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    He¡¯d journeyed onwards, to Eoforwic.


    ¡°Two days,¡± Nathan groused. ¡°He¡¯s two bloody days ahead of us.¡±


    ¡°It used to be five,¡± David pointed out, but that didn¡¯t make either of them happier.


    They followed the road the coach took all the way to Eoforwic but didn¡¯t find another trace of him. Greg probably hadn¡¯t gotten off the coach again at all, and the city guards in Eoforwic didn¡¯t search mail coaches. They asked around the post office, just in case, but had no luck.


    ¡°We get all sorts of fellows, with the railway and whatnot,¡± the man selling the tickets said. ¡°White, brown, yellow. Must¡¯ve seen a dozen guys as dark as you in the past month alone. Didn¡¯t look so closely, it¡¯s a free city, here. I think I had someone buy a ticket to Mannin. Could have been a couple of days ago, might have been your guy, maybe.¡±


    David cursed inwardly. Nathan did so loudly.


    ¡°A dozen guys in a month, but he can¡¯t remember who he¡¯s seen in the last three days?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s consider it good news,¡± David sighed. ¡°He¡¯s not standing out.¡±


    ¡°We could offer the guy some money, maybe that¡¯ll improve his memory,¡± Nathan suggested.


    David considered the idea but then shook his head. ¡°I think we don¡¯t need to,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s go get some food.¡±


    Nathan stared at him in surprise. ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Think about it,¡± David said, and started moving. ¡°Why would Greg come to Eoforwic of all places?¡±


    ¡°You think he really bought a ticket to Mannin?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°That would make sense, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± David said. He had spotted a place to eat just across from the post yard, no doubt catering to drivers and passengers alike. When he asked around, the best they got was a ¡°might have seen someone yesterday.¡±


    And a decent meal.


    ¡°Mannin sounds reasonable,¡± Nathan picked the conversation up again in a defeated tone, once their plates were nearly empty. ¡°If he really thinks we¡¯d ¨C kill him.¡±


    Mannin was the utmost border of their territory. The Church¡¯s arm didn¡¯t reach further north, so it was extremely rare that someone in the area put up a bounty that would be worth their travel time. David had only seen the city twice, answering calls for help from local hunters both times.


    Yes, it was a very good place for a werewolf to get away. The city of Mannin itself was part of Loegrion, and thus in theory part of the Empire of Valoir, but the Roi Solei had no power there. And once one made it past Mannin, civilization pretty much ended.


    George Louis of Mannin, from the house of Stuard, ruled up there, David remembered with a shudder, as far as anyone could rule the wilderness. The Roi Solei had appointed him a duke a few years ago, no doubt in the hopes of strengthening the Empire¡¯s hold on the coal-rich area. Now, though, George Louis himself was after the crown of Loegrion, if rumours could be believed.


    David could only hope that they wouldn¡¯t have to deal with him.


    He nodded slowly. ¡°Mannin sounds reasonable. But that guy back there said something else, too ¨C they get all sorts of people here, because of the railway. And I bet nobody asks a navvy too closely where he comes from, right? Wasn¡¯t there a rumour that they¡¯re using mostly convicts? In any case, I doubt George Louis can be as picky as he usually is with his help.¡±


    Nathan looked doubtful. ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right? Our Greg, a navvy? He starts complaining about his tender backside after half a day in the saddle; two nights in the forest, and he¡¯ll nearly die from a common cold!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not that bad,¡± David said. ¡°Or rather, yes, he used to be that bad. But he stayed at that little camp at the river for at least a few nights around full moon, and was fine afterwards.¡±


    ¡°But ¨C yeah, okay,¡± Nathan said. ¡°But still. He can¡¯t really work as a navvy, can he? Even if he remains saner than even the Old Ben, he¡¯d still have to leave the camp at least for one night each month. I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯d be noticed, right?¡±


    Old Ben had been one of the very few ¡°sane¡± werewolves they had ever come across, one of those they always left alive. He¡¯d even been able to work, albeit as a rat-catcher. Every full moon, he¡¯d locked himself up inside his tiny hut. He¡¯d been a little strange in the head, sure, but not so strange that people thought ¡°werewolf¡± when they met him right away.


    David looked around quickly to make sure no one was listening. Old Ben had died of old age years ago, but they wouldn¡¯t, if the Church got wind that the four of them left werewolves alive, if they felt sure they posed no danger.


    Nobody was paying them any attention, though, and David forced himself to relax a little.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how well the average group of navvies is organized,¡± he said. ¡°And anyway ¨C at least one group of them will go deep into the forest. If you were a werewolf who¡¯s trying to get away, don¡¯t you think that would sound appealing?¡±


    Nathan frowned thoughtfully. ¡°I guess,¡± he finally said. ¡°Or he came to Eoforwic to get to somewhere else ¨C Mannin, or anywhere up the mountains.¡± Nathan paused. ¡°Or maybe he¡¯s hanging around. The Savre is right out there.¡±


    ¡°You think a werewolf can survive the Rot?¡± David asked.


    ¡°If they can¡¯t, at least for a while, how do they even still exist?¡± Nathan gave back.


    David shrugged. ¡°They always seem to find the areas which are least affected,¡± he pointed out. ¡°Though you¡¯re right, I guess, they probably can cross Rot-areas easier than we can.¡±


    Nathan stared down at his plate. ¡°It¡¯s weird,¡± he muttered. ¡°To think of Greg as one of them.¡±


    David nodded quietly. He was trying very hard not to think of Greg as a werewolf, of all the consequences that came with that thought. Because yes, some werewolves were basically normal people twenty-eight days out of twenty-nine. But most of them were not. Most of them became either fully-fledged monsters within the first few months of their new lives or at the very least degenerated to something just barely smarter than a shepherd¡¯s dog.


    ¡°What do we do next?¡± Nathan interrupted him.


    ¡°We check with the local magistrate for bounties,¡± David said. ¡°Just in case. And then we¡¯ll have a closer look at the ¡°Lackland Railway Company.¡± Remember how many recruiters they had running around Deva recently?¡±


    Nathan nodded.


    ¡°Oh,¡± David said. ¡°But first of all ¨C first of all, we need to send a letter home.¡±


    So they crossed the street again, to join the long queue inside the post office. People all around them stared, and David wasn¡¯t sure if it was the crossbows on their backs that clearly marked them as werewolf-hunters or the fact that they were the only two black men in the crowd.


    Probably both.


    Once they had bought a letter and ink, it took them what felt like an hour to pin down:


    ¡°Dear mother, father, and Andrew,


    We¡¯ve reached Eoforwic. Greg has been here for certain, but he¡¯s still at least a couple of days ahead of us, and we don¡¯t know where he went after he got off the coach. We¡¯ll ask around the area and have a look around the new railway company.


    We¡¯ll let you know as soon as we find out anything more.


    For what it¡¯s worth, it seems like he was fine when he reached the city.


    We¡¯ll find him.


    Love, David and Nathan.¡±


    They posted the letter and asked for directions to the magistrate.


    ¡°If you cut right through the Old Town, you¡¯ll get there much faster than if you follow the main road,¡± the lady selling the stamps assured them.


    Following her advice turned out to be a mistake. They got turned around somewhere within the labyrinth of narrow alleys, often little more than gaps between the crooked buildings.


    David cursed. ¡°Why is it,¡± he wondered aloud, ¡°that we can find our way blind through miles and miles of forest, but get lost in a city quarter less than a hundred yards across?¡±


    ¡°Should have brought Andrew,¡± Nathan shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s good at cities.¡±


    They clearly weren¡¯t. The magistrate had closed by the time they made it there.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Nathan muttered, and let a fist fall against the wooden gates, even though the sign clearly stated that they should have been there half an hour ago.


    ¡°Great,¡± David agreed. ¡°So much for this day. Let¡¯s find a hotel.¡±


    ¡°We could go straight into the forest,¡± Nathan disagreed. ¡°Get something done. Plus, I¡¯m sick of this stinking ashtray of a city already.¡±


    David considered the idea. He wasn¡¯t a fan of Eoforwic either, but mostly he was tired.


    But before he could push his weary mind towards making a decision, the door behind them opened. A man in a very sombre dark grey robe glared at them, before doing a double-take.


    ¡°You¡¯re werewolf hunters?¡± he asked, and when they nodded, added: ¡°Looking for work? Come right this way.¡±


    So they followed him into the mostly dark and eerily quiet entrance hall of the huge building. Greg probably would have had plenty to say about the display of Imperial power and wealth inside. David had no idea whether the art and architecture were any good, and he didn¡¯t care either way, but just for once, he missed Greg¡¯s inevitable analysis.


    ¡°It¡¯s really lucky you showed up,¡± the clerk informed them. ¡°We¡¯ve had a flood of bounties coming in recently. The railway company wants the area cleared, they¡¯ll pay well for your trouble, too.¡±


    He reached a heavy counter and pushed back the chair behind it. ¡°Anyway, how many do you want to take?¡±


    ¡°Just give us the lot,¡± David said.


    The clerk looked at them in surprise. ¡°All of them?¡± he repeated. ¡°Are you sure? Are there more of you?¡±


    ¡°Just us,¡± David said.


    ¡°You¡¯re new at this?¡±


    ¡°You ever heard of Baron Bram Feleke or the Feleke Four?¡± David replied. ¡°We¡¯re half of them.¡±


    ¡°My apologies, my lord,¡± the clerk promptly said, bowing his head. ¡°Still, I¡¯ve got over two dozen bounties here. Are you sure you don¡¯t want to have a look first?¡±


    ¡°The area must be rife with werewolves,¡± David said, surprised.


    ¡°Yes, well, I¡¯m afraid we¡¯ve been a little lenient on the matter in the past years,¡± the clerk admitted. ¡°There was very little interest in this ¨C infestation ¨C until they started attacking railway crews.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see what we can do about this,¡± David promised.


    ¡°We could have just taken the newest ones,¡± Nathan muttered, as soon as they were back outside. ¡°Just ask if they had any new ones come in in the last few days, I mean.¡±


    David didn¡¯t reply. It was rather unlikely that Greg had already attracted a bounty in this area. He had only arrived the day before yesterday, or maybe a day earlier. But they needed to be sure. And also... But he was being unreasonable...


    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll need to make a name for ourselves here,¡± David said slowly. ¡°That way, if we let a couple of sane ones walk, people¡¯ll be less likely to get suspicious.¡±


    But he was being stupid. They couldn¡¯t save them all. They¡¯d be lucky enough if they could save Greg.


    Stupid and unreasonable. And still, there was this feeling that he needed to do something, something to clean his soul or his conscience of all the werewolves he had killed, happily not knowing whether they deserved it or not.


    He needed to focus, though. Focus on Greg, because saving just one werewolf would be difficult enough.


    Nathan looked at him doubtfully.


    ¡°Let¡¯s find a hotel,¡± David sighed. ¡°Then we can look at this lot.¡± He waved the stack of wanted-posters in his hands. ¡°And tomorrow we¡¯ll see about the railway.¡±


    They picked the first hotel they came across ¨C sticking to the main road this time, so they wouldn¡¯t get lost again. Greg would have approved of ¡°the Mills,¡± David thought.


    ¡°Crazy, isn¡¯t it?¡± Nathan asked when they inspected the generous room, ¡°how much you can miss someone you hardly ever spend time with? Or is that just me?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David said softly. ¡°It¡¯s not just you.¡±


    Nathan was right, of course. If Greg hadn¡¯t gotten bitten, he likely would have stayed at Deva, while David and Nathan would have gone out hunting again, only dropping in around new moon, or perhaps to pick up or drop off Bram.


    Andrew, David wasn¡¯t sure about. His arm would take time getting better, and anyway, Andrew had already decided that he wanted to go to university in summer, had only meant to save up some more money, so he wouldn¡¯t have to ask for any for a while.


    ¡°Do we have any plans for what we¡¯ll do if we do find him?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°If he¡¯s not ¨C too far gone, I mean.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll try to talk to him,¡± David said. ¡°If he¡¯s still passing as human, well, I reckon there¡¯s a good chance he won¡¯t be ¨C too wolfish, even if it takes us a few months to find him. I¡¯d say we take him to Courtenay, if at all possible. To hide him there.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to drag him halfway across the heartlands,¡± Nathan said. ¡°And if anyone figures out what we¡¯re doing...¡±


    ¡°If anyone finds out what we¡¯re doing, then it was us and us alone,¡± David said sharply.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Nathan said, sounding a little annoyed. ¡°They¡¯ll still kill him. Us, too. I just figured ¨C we¡¯re already at the very border of the heartlands. Wouldn¡¯t it be smarter, since we¡¯ve already picked up all these bounties, if we hunt down some of the mad ones, collect the gold, and buy a place somewhere around here?¡±


    ¡°That could work,¡± David said slowly. ¡°If we do find him somewhere around here.¡±


    He threw the warrants onto the table and leafed through them. Most of them were way too old to be about Greg, just as expected.


    ¡°This one, maybe,¡± Nathan said, scanning the paper. ¡°It was only put up this morning. No description of the human form, werewolf killed a woman. Doesn¡¯t say how long ago that happened, though.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Place called Lacing,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Think we should check it out?¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± David said. ¡°We¡¯ll get up early tomorrow, ride over to the company headquarters, see if Greg showed up there. Then we¡¯ll decide.¡±

 Chapter 6

    Greg woke early in the morning, long before sunrise, and went downstairs to the refectory. The kitchen staff was just starting to make breakfast, but a fry up of last night¡¯s dinner was already available. He found a place at the end of one of the long tables, as far away from the door and the kitchen as possible. He was the only one eating this early, and the silence was nice.


    Two weeks, that was the very most he would be able to travel with the crew of navvies. Was there anything else he should pack, asides from the gear he had bought last night? He tried to remember all that his brothers had said about going on long hunts in the forests with a minimum of baggage. He should have everything, though, shouldn¡¯t he?


    Well, everything apart from Andrew¡¯s advice. Greg thought about that part: ¡°Always carry salt,¡± didn¡¯t sound like it was meant entirely serious?


    But then he got up anyway. It might not be essential, but it sure would have been nice if he had been able to spice his game on full moon, even just a little bit.


    The single cook in the kitchen glared at him when he asked for salt until Greg explained that he wanted enough to take with him into the forest. In exchange for a whole silver, Greg received a small tin box full of the white gold.


    By the time he returned to the dorm room to place the little box securely at the bottom of his pack, the other workers were just getting up. It wasn¡¯t surprising: there was nothing to be done until the sun was high up above the trees and drove the Rot back into the forest.


    Greg stepped outside as soon as he thought it was safe. He wanted to have a look around this new quarter that was being pulled up, but he had barely walked out the door when a messenger boy came running past him and vanished inside. Greg was still looking after the kid when inside people started yelling and running about.


    An hour before noon, a small army had assembled in the yard. Some of the men were actually armed, mercenaries hired to make sure the convicts didn¡¯t run off. Eyal, Isaac, and their relatives stood together in a tight group, Thoko hidden in the middle. Greg kept himself a little apart, more with the other men that had been hired on, and they all watched as a small group of convicts approached them, escorted by nearly a dozen soldiers of fortune.


    Eyal had his arms crossed over his chest. He didn¡¯t look happy to be saddled with the criminals, but apparently, there was nothing he could do about it.


    There was no fanfare when they finally moved out, no bands playing and no crowd cheering them on, as it had been when the work for the Imperial harbour line from Deva to Deggan had commenced. No Valoisian official to make a big speech, and no priest to talk about how the power of sacred fire was about to make all their lives easier. Duke George Louis, however, was there in person, looking down at them from the saddle of his horse.


    When the troupe walked alongside the last operated fields outside of Eoforwic, they finally did pass a group of onlookers: A small formation of Valoisian guards escorting a priest. They made no move to stop the workers, but Greg had no doubt that a detailed report of what was going on here would soon be sent south. A shudder ran down his spine. Was this the first pebble that would start an avalanche? Or were they more like a stone dropped into a pond, all ripples but no waves?


    That would probably depend on whether or not they could get this line all the way west to Sheaf, straight through the forest, instead of taking the much longer way around.


    Eyal¡¯s butty gang with all their tools and provisions didn¡¯t move very fast, and by the time they had to make camp, they were still within the range of vision of the walls of Eoforwic. Still, before they put up tents they dug flat ditches to fill with dry wood that was set aflame. It worried Greg a little, how haggard some of the convicts already looked when they had barely walked for half a day, and no actual work had been done.


    The truss of workers spent most of the next day walking on until they reached the edge of a forest. This marked the beginning of the stretch assigned to them. An excited young engineer attached to their group pointed out exactly where they were to start building.


    Eyal ordered half the gang to dig trenches, and the other half to start cutting down trees. The atmosphere, when the fires were lit and the tents put up, was tenser than the night before. Eyal¡¯s relatives all carried at least one silver coin like a talisman on a string around their necks, as protection against the Rot. A couple of the new hires and most of the mercenaries had actual amulets or silver decorations on their hats. But nobody had a fully coated helmet like the guards back at the company headquarters had worn, so Greg wasn¡¯t sure how much good they would do.


    Still, he wished he could wear something similar. He had plenty of silver coins left, but there was no way he would let them touch his skin.


    Eyal ran a tight regimen on the men. Even the mercenaries followed his word and let him schedule the fireguards for the night. A quarter of the gang was always up, to keep the ditches filled with wood.


    They all smelled of smoke, and for the first hours after nightfall nobody dared to sleep, and they stared nervously across the flames into the darkness.


    However, nothing happened. Nothing undead moved outside their camp. This meant that the next morning, the work began in earnest.


    First, they had to cut down the trees. Greg had never thought of himself as mollycoddled, but his palms were blistering and sore long before Eyal called a break for lunch. He could feel Thoko¡¯s eyes on himself when he put down his axe for a moment and stared down at them. She was working just like the men, swinging her axe as if the trees had been complicit in murdering her father. Greg picked his tool up again and tried his hardest not to wince at the pain.


    When it was finally time to eat, he had a really hard time holding his tin and spoon, in which a sort of stew was served.


    ¡°Missing yer cook and maid just about now, I bet?¡±


    Greg glared at Isaac, who had sat down next to him. ¡°What do you want, Isaac?¡± he growled.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m just kidding, man. If ye can¡¯t joke at the work, ye gonna go crazy, ye know?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take my chances,¡± Greg gave back.


    ¡°Touchy, huh?¡± Isaac said, apparently unperturbed by Greg¡¯s mood. ¡°Here, that should help.¡±


    He offered Greg a small jar.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Greg asked suspiciously.


    ¡°It¡¯s for ye hands,¡± Isaac explained. ¡°Makes the blisters heal faster, ye know?¡±


    When Greg made no move to take the jar, Isaac sighed. ¡°Here, like this, ye see?¡± he said and opened the lid. The ointment inside was brown and smelled of old fat, but Isaac seemed unbothered as he put the stuff on his own callused hands.


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    ¡°I promise it¡¯ll help,¡± he said. He paused, and added: ¡°Why are ye looking at me like that?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t really think you wanted me here,¡± Greg said and put his tin down, to finally accept the ointment Isaac was still offering.


    ¡°What?¡± Isaac asked, looking genuinely confused. ¡°I was the one who recruited ye, remember?¡±


    ¡°Right, sure,¡± Greg muttered. The strange brown paste felt cool on his mangled skin. ¡°Thanks,¡± he added.


    Isaac took his jar back, still looking confused. ¡°Ye didn¡¯t take all that stuff I said seriously, did ye?¡± he finally asked.


    When Greg didn¡¯t reply, he shook his head. ¡°Ye really are a touchy one, ye know that?¡±


    Greg just grimaced and picked up his tin again. When he was done, he rummaged through his pack until he found his old pair of leather riding gloves and put them on to protect his hands. Isaac¡¯s cousins were showing those convicts and new workers who hadn¡¯t brought gloves how to wrap their hands in leather strips for protection.


    After the break, Greg spent another two hours cutting down trees, then Eyal put him into another group, which was chopping up the trees they had felled so that they could be used as firewood. Despite Isaac¡¯s ointment, Greg¡¯s palms were soon bleeding underneath the gloves. At night, all the new workers were so exhausted that they all fell onto their cots gladly, and only the guard stayed up.


    Eyal and his family, however, gathered in the biggest tent. Greg fell asleep to soft singing wafting through the camp, some kind of religious hymn, he thought, before exhaustion dragged him under.


    Greg groaned softly when he was dragged out of his cot for his watch shift. Since the wood they were burning was still wet, the smoke was even worse tonight.


    ¡°Let me see ye hands,¡± Greg was woken the next morning. Isaac was way too awake considering the sun was just rising.


    ¡°Told ye the stuff would work,¡± Isaac exclaimed when Greg relented and let him see his palms.


    Greg looked down at his own hands. They felt awfully stiff and sore but looked much better than he had expected. He was fairly sure, though, that Isaac¡¯s weird ointment was not the main reason for that.


    This day was spend clearing more trees and digging up the tree stumps. The opening they were cutting into the trees was much wider than needed for a line of track, or even for two rail tracks. When Greg asked, Timothy Smith, the engineer supervising them, explained that they would need room at the sides where they could dig up dirt to even out the trackbed.


    ¡°But we¡¯re not laying down any track,¡± Greg pointed out and wiped the sweat out of his eyes. ¡°We don¡¯t even have the iron for the rails here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an impatient one, huh?¡± Smith laughed. ¡°Got to clear the trees first, and then even out the ground, finally prepare the trackbed. When that is done, they can put down the actual lines. But that¡¯s not going to be done by you. Or, at least not at this run.¡±


    ¡°Meaning?¡± Greg asked, swinging his axe again.


    ¡°Why do you care?¡±


    ¡°Cause,¡± Greg grunted with another swing, ¡°felling trees is boring. And you are one of the few people here who has got breath to spare to talk.¡±


    The engineer looked him up and down, but then he smiled. ¡°Fine. The iron rails are made in Sheaf. For the Harbour Line, from Deggan to Deva, they shipped them down the river, as they do with all their iron right now, and then along the coast to Deggan. This line is going to pick them up right at Sheaf, and then transport them via the railway, as that moves forward to Eorforwic.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s going to take all summer,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°If we are lucky, yes,¡± said Smith.


    Greg thought about that. The engineer was already turning away when he asked: ¡°So, if you are calculating half a year for this line, which is going to be ¨C what, twenty-five miles?¡±


    ¡°Twenty-two,¡± said Smith.


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg grunted. ¡°So, half a year for twenty-two miles. Eoforwic to Mannin, that¡¯s got to be at least sixty miles. How many years are you all planning for that?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± said the engineer. ¡°If we can get this line build, through ten miles of Rot-forest, if we can show that it¡¯s actually possible, we should be able to hire a lot more people. More people means less time. The Valoise on the mainland claim that they can put down eight miles of track in just one day, on flat ground, obviously, because they have several thousand workers. The Lackland Company has just a couple of hundred in total.¡±


    Eight miles in a day. Greg shuddered. The mere idea seemed impossible, as he swung his axe again and then yelled ¡°Timber!¡± when the tree he had been working on finally fell over.


    He took a few seconds to catch his breath and was promptly called out by Eyal.


    ¡°No sleeping on the job, Greg!¡± the man¡¯s voice boomed through the forest. ¡°Get over here, help pull out these stumps!¡±


    Greg sighed but shouldered his axe and moved over promptly. He preferred to fell the trees over digging them up, not least because the digging was done in teams, and not everyone was always as careful as they should be when they swung their tools. Especially some of the convicts didn¡¯t care at all about who might be standing behind them.


    It was Thoko, however, who was already busy laying bare the stump of a huge old beech tree.


    ¡°Well, this is going to be fun,¡± Greg muttered, as he joined her in digging up the roots, many of them bigger around than Greg¡¯s legs. His hands really did not like this new work. After the third delve with his shovel, he stopped and took off his gloves to stare down at his palms. Isaac had let him put on some of his salve in the morning, but they were blistering again anyway. No doubt he would be bleeding again soon.


    ¡°If you aren¡¯t even bleeding right now, you clearly were not working hard enough yesterday,¡± Thoko said. She grabbed one of his hands and stared at them. ¡°What are your palms made of, leather?¡± she asked incredulously and put her own hand next to his. Even with the leather bandages, hers had turned into a mess of torn skin, blood, and scabbed over wounds.


    Greg thought she was probably working too hard.


    ¡°Mine was bleeding last night,¡± Greg said. ¡°Isaac gave me this ointment, and they healed fairly well.¡±


    ¡°They healed overnight?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°He gave me that stuff, too, but that just means I still have some skin left.¡±


    She grimaced and grabbed her shovel again. ¡°You really aren¡¯t working hard enough, I guess,¡± she said.


    ¡°Funny,¡± Greg muttered. Thoko was still attacking the trees as if they were in cahoots with the Valoise, but the other new workers weren¡¯t working any harder than he was.


    An hour later, he felt one of the big blisters burst insides his gloves, so he pulled it off to inspect the bleeding. ¡°There,¡± he said to Thoko. ¡°Are you happy now?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer him, though, didn¡¯t even raise her head, and when Greg looked again, he realized that the handle of her shovel was dripping with blood. He shuddered, when she attacked the dirt around the roots again, as if they had personally insulted her, and followed suit, though maybe with a little less enthusiasm.


    Maybe Isaac had been right. Maybe he didn¡¯t belong here. Because if his hands were as bad as hers, he would be taking it slower.


    He couldn¡¯t get the picture out of his head, the torn skin of her small hands, the pink flesh naked underneath, and finally, he decided to do something about it.


    When they broke for lunch, he dug through his pack until he found a clean shirt, one of his good ones, made of the finest linen. He wasn¡¯t quite sure why he had packed it in the first place, but now he cut it into strips to make bandages and grabbed his better riding gloves.


    Isaac was already going around with his jar full of ointment. Thoko, however, shook her head, when he came to her. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to put it on, Isaac,¡± she sighed.


    ¡°Put it on here,¡± Greg said and gave Isaac a strip of the linen. ¡°Hold out your hands,¡± he asked Thoko.


    ¡°That won¡¯t hold,¡± Thoko sighed. ¡°I already asked Eyal about it.¡±


    ¡°It will hold,¡± Greg assured her. ¡°You can put these over the bandages.¡±


    He held up the gloves.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°Those look new. I¡¯ll probably bleed all over them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, then you can keep them.¡±


    ¡°Just take them, Thoko,¡± Isaac said before she could argue further.


    Greg was as gentle as he could when he wrapped her hands in the unguent soaked bandages, and then added a second layer just in case. Thoko kept her eyes closed throughout the process, but tears were running down her cheeks anyway.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she muttered, and finally, they all began to eat.


    At night Greg was on the second fire watch. Through the trees they had cleared, he could see the narrow crescent moon rising, and he couldn¡¯t help but wonder how much longer he should stay with these people. Sheaf wasn¡¯t as far out in the wilderness as he had hoped, because twenty-two miles was a distance a werewolf could travel in a single night. If he stayed with the gang too long, there was no telling where he would end up during his transformation.


    On the other hand, he was beginning to enjoy the company, especially Thoko and Isaac, despite his teasing. It was also nice to be part of a team. Maybe he could transform into a wolf a few days before full moon? He had only vague memories of the two extra nights he had spent as a wolf last month, but he remembered following his own trail during the day. So it should be possible for him to turn, right, and start running? If he managed to stick to something close to due north, he should move further away from people. Right?


    He really should have brought a map of Loegrion.

 Chapter 7

    Getting up early was not something David and Nathan had to do often ¨C their work usually happened at night, after all. They both needed a double ration of coffee before they were awake enough to brave traffic in Eoforwic, which wasn¡¯t quite as bad as in Deva, but still plenty annoying. They had to follow the busy main road all the way out through the Old City gates, across a channel, and into the New City. It was so new it didn¡¯t even have a proper wall yet.


    At least they didn¡¯t get lost again: The Lackland Company was impossible to miss, not with that huge mural all over the front. They reined in their horses on the other side of the street, to stare up at the huge King Lackland up there, killing the dragon.


    ¡°George Louis sure has balls,¡± Nathan said after a moment. ¡°That what you liked about him?¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± David sighed.


    ¡°Think he¡¯ll be in there?¡±


    ¡°No idea,¡± David said. He hadn¡¯t even considered that possibility. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he added, before he could chicken out now.


    It was lucky that they had gotten all those warrants last night because it had given Nathan an idea under which pretence they would ask around the company.


    ¡°We¡¯re werewolf hunters,¡± they explained when they were stopped at the doors. ¡°We¡¯d like to talk about some of the warrants the company has put out recently.¡±


    This got them inside at least. The main hall they were ushered into was almost as splendidly decorated as the Imperial magistrate, with similar long counters around the huge room. At one of them, they had to state their business again, and their names, too. The clerk behind it frowned at them.


    ¡°You want more money, I take it?¡± the clerk asked, sounding resigned. Before David could even answer, he had rung a bell, and a young boy in the colours of George Louis came sprinting over. The clerk gave him a message, and then the kid raced off again.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky that no one else has wanted those contracts,¡± the clerk told them. ¡°If you¡¯re really lucky, the director will see you about the issue.¡±


    It didn¡¯t take long for the boy to return, slightly out of breath. He whispered the answer into the clerk¡¯s ear, who nodded. ¡°Jimmy here will take you upstairs to director Meyer¡¯s office,¡± he told David and Nathan.


    They followed Jimmy to a small waiting room where already a couple of older white men were waiting, both heavyset, in important-looking suits. One of them rustled his newspaper demonstratively and hid behind the pages, the other one kept glancing at his pocket watch. Both looked surprised and insulted when David and Nathan were called up before them by a young ash-blonde lady.


    David was very surprised when they were received by Duke George Louis himself, and not the director of the company. The lord of Mannin was waiting for them behind an impressive, heavy oak desk, maybe a little overwrought with woodcarvings and a green felt covering. The duke wore a black suit, subtly emphasizing the width of his shoulders. He was a native Loegrian, with pale skin and dark brown hair and eyes. His face was as handsome as David remembered it, though he wasn¡¯t sure he approved of the beard George Louis was sporting now.


    ¡°The Honourable David Feleke, what a surprise,¡± George Louis greeted them. ¡°And your brother, I take it?¡±


    ¡°This is Nathan, Your Highness,¡± David agreed.


    ¡°Eoforwic seems a little far out for you?¡± George Louis went on.


    ¡°It¡¯s springtime,¡± David gave back. ¡°Best time to travel.¡±


    George Louis eyed him quizzically. David could feel his heart pick up the pace, but he managed to keep an even, almost bored expression.


    ¡°Right,¡± the duke said after a moment, glancing at Nathan. ¡±I was told you want to talk about money?¡±


    ¡°Only if you want us to go after these two werewolves,¡± David gave back, placing two warrants on the desk.


    There was a little, roughly hewn wooden figure sitting there, strangely out of place amidst all the other polished wood surfaces and lush felt. David recognized it at once. He¡¯d carved the little owl himself, more than a decade ago. For a second they both stared at it. David almost asked why the duke had kept the ugly little figurine, but stopped himself.


    ¡°You want these two dead, you better pay gold,¡± Nathan spoke up.


    ¡°One gold coin, for both,¡± the duke said promptly, without batting an eye at Nathan¡¯s usual directness.


    David rolled his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re not going after a couple of mad ones for that, and I don¡¯t know anyone else who will.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I can convince Lady deLande,¡± George Louis said.


    ¡°Convince her, no doubt,¡± David said. ¡°But even she can¡¯t be in two places at once. The clerks at the magistrate sounded like you¡¯re in a bit of a hurry with these. Or have you roped in Greg as well?¡±


    ¡°Your brother Greg?¡± George Louis asked, a little confused.


    ¡°He was talking about joining the railway,¡± David said, shrugging like it was no big deal. ¡°He¡¯s seventeen now, wants to make his own mistakes. You know that age. Anyway,¡± he added like the topic was closed for him, but George Louis interrupted him:


    ¡°Looking out for your little brother even when he doesn¡¯t want you to. How very sweet. But no, he hasn¡¯t hired up with the company. At least not officially. All the stretches are subcontracted. So he might have tried some honest digging rather than the blood works.¡±


    David shrugged and tipped at the warrants with one finger. ¡°Do you want these out of the way, or not?¡±


    The duke reached for the warrants and scanned the text. After a moment he asked: ¡°Why these two?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± David asked.


    ¡°The company put up a lot of warrants recently. Why only ask for more money on these two?¡±


    ¡°These are more dangerous,¡± Nathan said. ¡°And more urgent.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    David rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing this job for over fourteen years now. You¡¯ll have to trust me when I say that these will be more trouble than the others. Ask deLande, if you want to,¡± he added, mostly to find out if she really was around.


    The duke considered that and finally shook his head. ¡°That would take too long,¡± he sighed. ¡°You¡¯re right. I am in a hurry to have these issues solved.¡± He rubbed his hands together. ¡°I¡¯ll pay you one gold coin each,¡± he finally said.


    ¡°Three,¡± David said, mostly for appearance¡¯s sake. They agreed on two gold coins and a handful of silver for each of the werewolves, and David couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that George Louis had given in too easily as they left the building.


    ¡°Think deLande is really around?¡± Nathan asked, as soon as they were out on the street.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope not,¡± David grumbled. ¡°That¡¯s the last thing we need.¡±


    He had a lot of respect for deLande, she was a damn good huntress. But she was also the daughter of crazy Leon deLande, and he was pretty sure that she didn¡¯t even entertain the possibility of a sane werewolf. She was certainly one of the most zealous ones about making sure that hunters who got bitten were killed straight away. If she found out about Greg, she could make trouble for all of them. She was Valoise, after all.


    ¡°I wish father and Andrew were here,¡± David sighed. ¡°Then we could split up. Let¡¯s go and ask over there,¡± he added.


    There was an inn right next to the company¡¯s headquarters, certainly a place where navvies flocked?


    The inn was empty though.


    ¡°The navvies all left a couple of days ago,¡± explained the woman behind the bar. ¡°Won¡¯t be back for a while.¡±


    ¡°Was there a black man with them?¡± David asked.


    ¡°No,¡± she said, looking him up and down.


    ¡°Please,¡± David tried again. ¡°We¡¯re looking for our brother.¡±


    But the woman shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re in the wrong place then. All the navvies working on the line to Sheaf stayed here, and I didn¡¯t see anyone as dark as you guys.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure he couldn¡¯t have slipped by you?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Only if he didn¡¯t eat or drink anything at all,¡± she said firmly. ¡°I¡¯ve got a good memory for people. Have to, with so many of them tryin¡¯ to slip away without paying.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no other place where a navvy might eat?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°I mean, if he only ate breakfast, I might not have seen him, I don¡¯t do mornings. But who does that? Or, I suppose, he might have walked all the way into the Old City, but that¡¯d be quite a walk.¡± She shrugged. ¡°If you want to make really sure, we also send the crews their provisions. Next caravan leaves a week from now, you¡¯re welcome to go with them. They won¡¯t say no to a couple of hunters.¡±


    ¡°Thank you very much, Miss,¡± David said. ¡°Where does the caravan leave from?¡±


    ¡°Right here,¡± she said. ¡°It leaves about an hour after it gets safe.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± David said. ¡°Seven days from now, yes?¡±


    She nodded, and they thanked her again and walked out.


    ¡°You still think Greg went with the navvies?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°I mean, he must¡¯ve eaten something, right?¡±


    ¡°You think that place offered anything Greg would care to eat?¡± David gave back. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he made the trip into the city every morning, probably didn¡¯t go back all day.¡±


    Nathan looked back at the inn, nodding. ¡°Yeah, I can see that, too. So, we¡¯re off to Lancing next?¡±


    David nodded.


    ¡°The monster of Lancing,¡± was all the talk in the pub David and Nathan stopped at on their way to the village. When they rode into Lancing itself, people came running from everywhere, offering them money they clearly couldn¡¯t afford to give away if they killed the werewolf.


    When they tried to get more information on the creature in question all they got was conflicting rumours.


    ¡°He¡¯s huge,¡± that was the only thing all the villagers agreed on. ¡°Not like a normal werewolf, much bigger.¡±


    David didn¡¯t put much stock in that. Werewolves commonly grew as large as ponies, rather than dogs. What did worry him much more was that no two villagers could agree on what the creature looked like beyond ¡°big.¡± Descriptions ranged from ¡°almost pure white¡± or ¡°nearly all brown¡± to ¡°grey, patchy grey¡± and ¡°jet black, like ink.¡±


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    Nobody knew what it looked like as a human.


    ¡°Can¡¯t be him, though, can it?¡± Nathan said as they climbed back into the saddle. ¡°Timing¡¯s all off, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± David said.


    ¡°The monster of Lancing¡± had been terrorizing the village since full moon, at which point Greg, David and Nathan were almost certain, had been running around that little island in a sidearm of the Savre.


    ¡°Eight people dead, though,¡± Nathan said. ¡°And it might be more than one werewolf. Unless these people are all colour-blind.¡±


    David nodded.


    ¡°So?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°Are we on the contract, or not? We likely even won¡¯t get the money. You know how it is with the descriptions so imprecise. Lackland¡¯s, they would be idiots not to try and wriggle out of it.¡±


    ¡°You said it yourself,¡± David sighed. ¡°Eight people have been killed already. And we¡¯ll attract the wrong kind of attention if we walk away now. I mean, they all but promised us their first-borns there.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Nathan said. David was pretty sure he looked relieved. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope we can still make that supply caravan.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope we can see this ¨C this thing as human,¡± David gave back. ¡°We have to be sure it¡¯s not him.¡±


    At least in that, they ended up getting lucky: They couldn¡¯t find a trail at the last point of attack ¨C too many feet had gone over the area ¨C but when they entered the forest close by, they did find a tinkerer¡¯s cart, sitting with one broken wheel in the ditch on the side of the road, still hung with all the tools and a bunch of pots and pans. Inside, a man and a woman were asleep, both naked, he with almost white, she with patchy brown and black hair. David only managed a short look, before she sat up and snarled at him like an angry dog.


    He backed away quickly before she could come at him through the narrow window. There was no humanity or reason left within her golden-brown eyes, only a wild animal, forced into a corner. David had seen this mindless fury hundreds of times. Today was the first time he thought he saw fear, too, as he reached for his crossbow.


    The woman crawled out the back of the cart on all fours, still human-looking, while the male werewolf burst from the front of the cart, taking out a piece of the roof with his hulking form. David had to give the villagers this much: he was bigger, and much heavier-set than most werewolves he had come across. Even though he and Nathan had moved away from the cart at the first sign of movement inside, it took the werewolf only one jump down from the coach box to close up on Nathan, who was being cocky again. David barely managed to swing his crossbow around in time to shoot the thing.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Nathan complained promptly. ¡°I had this!¡±


    David would have loved to cuff him around the ears for that, but instead turned back to the woman. She had started transforming, still crawling in a wide curve around them. David hesitated. It took her forever, and it didn¡¯t seem right to shoot her in this strange, contorted form, not wolf, not human, not anything he had ever seen or wanted to ever see again. One of her arms sprouted fur, the hand elongated into a paw and then shortened again into a hand. The fur on her body grew in patches and vanished again, the tail, too. At one point, she looked more like a giant rat than a werewolf.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± Nathan muttered.


    When she started screaming in a way too human voice, David shot her.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± Nathan repeated and went over to have a closer look.


    David looked away, trying really hard not to throw up.


    ¡°Probably best if we only take the head, right?¡± Nathan said. ¡°No one¡¯s going to pay for the skin of this freak, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Probably best,¡± David agreed, and somehow managed to keep his stomach down, though he wasn¡¯t sure how he did it. He felt like his knees would buckle under him any second.


    ¡°Are we taking the big one?¡± Nathan went on, unperturbed.


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said softly.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Only, normally you¡¯d be bitching me out by now, for chancing it back there,¡± Nathan went on.


    ¡°What¡¯s the point?¡± David sighed. ¡°Guess there¡¯ll be two werewolves in the family, soon.¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Long as you got my back, I¡¯m not worried.¡±


    David almost did take a swing at him then. He took a deep breath to start yelling at Nathan but then realized that he had no idea what he even wanted to say.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that to Mum,¡± he finally sighed. ¡°Or Dad, for that matter.¡±


    Nathan stared at him, but he didn¡¯t say anything more. Instead, he turned back towards the grotesque form of the female werewolf, a long knife in hands. David looked away and started searching the underbrush for a long, sturdy branch they could tie the other werewolf to. By the time he found one, he mostly had himself under control again, but he still avoided looking at the grotesque figure of the half-turned female. The fact that Nathan had cut its head off didn¡¯t make it any less disgusting.


    They tied the paws of the male werewolf to the long branch David had found, and then they had to fight to convince the horses they had borrowed in Eoforwic to carry them and the werewolf back to Lancing.


    ¡°We need to write home for our own horses,¡± Nathan grumbled. ¡°Good thing that we didn¡¯t actually have to hunt these two down.¡±


    David nodded. Hunting werewolves without reliable horses was a bad idea all around. ¡°These¡¯ll be good enough to go with that supply caravan,¡± he said. ¡°And by the time we¡¯re back from that, hopefully, Andrew can bring us our own.¡±


    The people of Lancing greeted them like heroes, with women literally throwing flowers at them, and children running after them. They were offered so many celebratory drinks before they even reached the village square, that David decided to leave the talking to Nathan. Which of course resulted in them promising to stay the whole night. But at least Nathan also remembered to ask for a witness who would testify to the Lackland Company that they had killed the right werewolf.


    David wasn¡¯t entirely certain of anything else that happened that night.


    When they returned to Eoforwic, the Imperial magistrate paid them the general reward for the female with very little argument, which meant they had plenty of cash and a couple of days to prepare for their trip into the forest with the supply caravan. It was still surprisingly difficult to buy even basic protection against the Rot.


    ¡°It all goes to the guards at the New City,¡± one craftsman told them.


    ¡°Technically, we aren¡¯t even allowed to sell these,¡± he added, pointing at a row of hats with simple silver decorations on them, ¡°but the city guards don¡¯t want them, of course. Anything the silversmiths turn out goes either to the City or the Lackland Company.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s better than nothing,¡± David sighed, and they each bought a flat cap with a fairly wide brim in the front, adorned with some silver, nothing like the fully coated silver helmets of the guards. They weren¡¯t exactly fashionable either, but would at least keep off sun and rain. How much they would help against the Rot, David wasn¡¯t sure, but the hatter assured him that the navvies didn¡¯t have more than that either.


    The supply caravan was made up of a single covered wagon, pulled by two oxen. On the coach box sat a young man with short, black hair, almost as curly as David¡¯s own, and light brown skin, who chewed on a pipe and introduced himself as Aaron. He, too, wore a little round hat with some silver ornaments.


    ¡°Glad to have ye along,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°Can¡¯t never be too careful.¡±


    With that, they set out, alongside the construction site where navvies were building a line in the safety of the New City.


    ¡°This is the line going east, towards the coast at Breachpoint,¡± Aaron explained before David could even ask. ¡°We¡¯re gonna pass the building site for the new Main Station in a moment, and the turnouts in front of it. Eoforwic is gonna be the centre-point of all the lines, unless the Imperials at Deva get a move on, fast. If they can actually make it through the forest to Sheaf, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll make it?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Guess so,¡± Aaron said. ¡°So far, no one came running out of the forest, screaming. So yeah, I hope they¡¯re making it. Got a few relatives on the crew, I hope they¡¯re still alive.¡±


    He fell silent for a few seconds, before adding: ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯re fine. Eyal¡¯s got a plan on how to beat the Rot. I¡¯m more worried about us. We can¡¯t build a fortified camp every night like they can.¡±


    ¡°Cheery thought,¡± Nathan said. ¡°The money must be really good, for people to risk this.¡±


    ¡°If they make it, it¡¯s worth a fortune,¡± Aaron agreed, but he claimed not to know how high exactly the reward might be when Nathan pressed.


    David didn¡¯t quite believe him.


    ¡°What¡¯s the company paying you to guard this caravan?¡± Aaron changed the topic.


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re not here on company¡¯s orders,¡± Nathan replied. ¡°Looking for our youngest brother. He might have joined the navvies.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good, honest work,¡± Aaron said, a little defensively.


    ¡°Yeah, but he¡¯s seventeen, and mother wants him back home. Asides,¡± Nathan added, ¡°we¡¯re not even sure he¡¯s here.¡±


    Aaron nodded and clicked his tongue to spur the oxen on a little. Not that it made much of a difference. The wagon trudged onwards painfully slowly. Come noon, though they had made it out of the city, the gates were still in sight when David looked back.


    Nathan looked like he might have fallen asleep in the saddle, but David got more nervous with every passing hour.


    ¡°How many miles do you think we¡¯ll have to go?¡± he asked Aaron when the city finally vanished behind a copse of trees.


    ¡°Can¡¯t really say,¡± the driver said. ¡°It¡¯s at least another six till we even reach the edge of the forest. Dunno how far they already got towards Sheaf.¡±


    ¡°Any idea what the road ahead will be like?¡±


    ¡°Slow,¡± Aaron just said. ¡°If we make those six miles in one day, we¡¯ll be doing good time.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯ll be stuck in the forest over full moon for sure.¡±


    ¡°Like I said, glad to have you along,¡± Aaron shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t be helped.¡±


    David nodded. He had no idea what to do once full moon came about. There was no way he could shoot Greg without even trying to speak with him first. If it came to it, they¡¯d have to climb a tree or something.


    They did make it to the edge of the trees by nightfall the next day. By that time, even David had difficulties staying alert. The headache that had gripped his whole skull about the moment they could see the forest didn¡¯t make it any easier. Still, he stayed up late into the night to guard the fire, and then woke Nathan to take the second watch. Aaron took the third.


    The fire was their only, meagre protection should the Rot show up. They saw no trace of it, luckily. The days were too hot for Avril, and not a drop of rain fell, maybe that helped.


    David stared up at the sky while the oxen trudge onwards. Was Greg really just a few miles away, staring at the same sky? And if he was, which precautions was he taking? The first night of full moon would be the night after next. Some very few werewolves could stay human for that night, could Greg? And if they spared Greg, and climbed into the trees like cowards, what would Aaron say? Who would he tell?


    All those worries, though, were driven from his mind at about noon, when huge, towering rain clouds pulled up over the forest. By mid-afternoon it was nearly as dark as night, and the oxen wouldn¡¯t move a single step further, no matter how hard Aaron tried. The most frustrating thing was that they were close ¨C they had just passed an abandoned campsite, clearly marked by the ditches filled with ash that surrounded it. Greg might be just around the bend in the trail.


    There were things moving in the shadows beyond the fire they had started, misshapen creatures. David thought the scariest part about them was how they still sometimes looked like they might have been real, actual animals, swallowed up by the Rot, and spit out all wrong. They, too, might soon stalk the shadows much the same.


    David was drenched in cold sweat before the rain even started. They sat with their backs to the cart, the horses tied up on either side of their tiny, insufficient campsite. The oxen still wouldn¡¯t move, so they stayed where they stood in the drawbar even after Aaron freed them. David stared into the darkness, one hand on his crossbow. Could he shoot the Rot, if it came for them?


    There was a deer out there, a perfectly normal deer. It came walking towards them slowly, hesitatingly, as if it was looking for shelter from the storm, too. David felt himself relax, his hands falling away from his crossbow. Only his head felt like a nut stuck in a nutcracker, as if his skull would burst at any moment...


    The first raindrop fell onto his face, but he barely noticed. The tiny camp was stinking something awful. The next raindrop landed in their fire, and a fountain of sparks soared up into the darkness. David jumped. And suddenly the deer wasn¡¯t a deer at all anymore.


    David grabbed his crossbow again, but his shot went wide. Behind him, the mare he¡¯d rented was doing her best to kick through the plank of the cart it was tied to.


    David grabbed the next silver dowel but did not attempt to nook it. Instead, he pulled first Nathan, then Aaron to their feet by their collars. ¡°We gotta go,¡± he hissed.


    He kept the silver bolt grasped tightly even as Nathan just stared at him incomprehensively, and he had to throw him over the back of his horse. Aaron climbed into the saddle of Nathan¡¯s mount. While David struggled to get into the saddle behind Nathan, Aaron slapped each ox onto the back, but they had no time to waste to see if they even moved at all. The horses went wild as soon as they realized they were free. David could only hang on and pray that they were going in the right direction. There was no steering the panicked animals.


    Luckily, the horses were smarter than their riders and instinctively stayed as far away from the trees as possible, running right down the middle of the clear-felled path the navvies had created. They didn¡¯t stop until they were well out of the forest.


    It was still pouring cats and dogs, and flashes of lightning showed the towering forest in stark relief. David could see nothing move but the treetops. Still, his mare threw her head nervously, and while she did slow down, she wouldn¡¯t be stopped until they reached civilisation again, marked by a field in which the winter barley stood about a foot high.


    The farmer would not be happy with them.


    ¡°How did we even survive that?¡± Nathan asked, and let himself drop into the crops.


    Aaron stared towards the forest. ¡°Do you think ¨C do you think there¡¯s any way they¡¯re still alive?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± David said. ¡°But you saw the ditches full of ashes,¡± he added because he had to cling to that hope, too. ¡°Much better than our tiny fire was, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    There was no way they would make it through tonight or even tomorrow. Not with the Rot suddenly this strong.


    ¡°Bloody rain,¡± Aaron swore. ¡°We were so close. I¡¯m going back, soon as the weather gets better!¡±


    David had to commend his bravery, if maybe not his common sense. For now, they moved slowly onwards, until they reached the edge of the field.


    They spent the rest of the night in the middle of the road running alongside it, constantly looking over their shoulders for anything moving. The nearly full moon broke through the clouds at around midnight, bathing the landscape in silver, but they never saw another sign of the Rot. At sunrise, they set off towards Eoforwic. Aaron said he needed to report back to the company of the failed delivery, and didn¡¯t say anything more about going back into the forest.


    ¡°Now what?¡± Nathan asked when they were back at the Mills Hotel. It was a different room, but just as splendid as the one they had rented a few days ago.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± David admitted. He felt defeated. He couldn¡¯t shake the thought that Greg had joined the navvies, and he couldn¡¯t imagine that anyone, no matter how well organized their group was, could have survived that thunderstorm.


    And tonight was the first night of full moon. Even if Greg had entered the forest together with the crew, even if they had found some way to beat the Rot, he couldn¡¯t stay with them tonight.


    Or could he?


    The only protection he could imagine that might keep the navvies safe in the forest was strong magic. And if they had that...


    But he was being stupid. Strong magic could bind a werewolf even on a full moon night, but why should anyone bother?


    They spend the next two days wandering around Eoforwic rather aimlessly. They did ask about Greg but got no useful answers. On the third day, just as they considered giving up entirely, they ran into Andrew and Bram.

 Chapter 8

    Greg¡¯s third day of working with the navvies started just the same as the days before had, but Eyal announced that the following day, they would not be working and that they would start preparing for the night early. Obviously, there were no complaints. In the evening, Eyal and his family gathered in a tight group, and Greg got the strong impression that they were going through a ceremony of some sort. Clearly not a Mithran one, though ¨C there was no way they could have the required bonfire inside their tent.


    Afterwards, they all washed their hands, and then Eyal spoke words in a language Greg didn¡¯t understand over a loaf of bread. The bread was dipped in salt and everyone who wanted, not just family, received a piece. Most people accepted the offered bread.


    That was slightly surprising, Greg thought. After all, the worship of anyone other than Mithras was strictly prohibited and technically, they could all get in trouble for taking the bread, should word ever get around to the Valoise.


    Greg shook his head at himself. He was being a fool, wasn¡¯t he? Every worker on this line was helping Duke George Louis cock a snook at the Empire. Taking part in a ¡°heathen¡± ritual would be the least of their worries if the Valoise decided they wanted to take offense.


    The dinner afterwards was a lot more generous than the nights before, still stew, of course, but with very good beef cuts. Greg could feel the whole camp relax a little.


    Tonight, Eyal and his family didn¡¯t bother to retreat into the big tent when they began their singing, but they did retreat the next day for quite a long while. Greg stayed in his tent for most of the time, for a soft drizzle had started. Not enough that they would have to worry about keeping the fire going at night, but plenty annoying.


    The rain continued on and off over the next couple of days, making everyone both miserable and grouchy. Finding twigs that were dry enough to start the fires at night grew increasingly difficult, and on the third night, the fireguards spotted the first Rot creatures moving beyond their camp, which was followed promptly by the first three convicts making a run for it.


    Greg thought their timing was pretty darn stupid. They could have run before the Rot showed up. Now they would have to face the monsters alone. Or maybe they had waited this long hoping that they wouldn¡¯t be chased. In that case, their plan worked: The mercenaries who were supposed to keep them in line had no interest in leaving the camp¡¯s protection.


    With the rain not letting up, Eyal ordered the soldiers to walk around the working site with torches. They could all smell it, the smell of rotten meat, and fungus, of stagnant waters, and slowly decaying plants, and everything else that was vile in the world. And they could feel them, the putrid aura the Rot carried, a sense of terror, of hopelessness, and madness, coming and going like a shadow that was always out of sight. There were more arguments everywhere, and people were concentrating less. One worker was killed by a falling tree, and two more sustained heavy injuries, one of them axing himself in the foot, another one passing too close behind somebody who was taking a swing and taking the handle to the face. Greg didn¡¯t know either of them well, but it still came as a shock.


    The nights, of course, were the worst. The stink seemed to thicken around the camp, and guards kept asking each other: ¡°Did you see that? Did you hear that?¡±


    Because they couldn¡¯t trust their own senses after nightfall. More than once, men just froze in their steps and had to be shaken out of the paralysis that followed after the hallucination. The only lucky thing was that no one actually went mad and attacked a comrade on purpose.


    One night, Greg woke with a start, his head feeling like a giant had gripped his skull and tried to crush it, and when he pushed back the flap to his tent, he realized that everyone out there had frozen. There were creatures moving just on the other side of the fire ditches, formless in the deep shadows. They didn¡¯t dare come into the light, but they were out there, ambling about, waiting for the fires to die down. Then they would move into the camp and just sit with the people, who were frozen, unable to move, caught in their hallucinations. The Rot didn¡¯t usually kill, unless it was driven by other magic, didn¡¯t need to. The creatures just waited, until their victim eventually stopped breathing, maybe because they starved, maybe suffocated by the stink, maybe poisoned by the dark, corrupted magic that gave the Rot its strange not-life. Once the victim was dead and the body started to decay, it was either integrated by the thing that had killed it or became a Rot creature of its own.


    Greg scrambled out of his tent and tossed some wood into a part of the ditch that was almost down to embers before he began shaking the guards back to their senses. It didn¡¯t do much good until he picked up a torch and tossed it into the thickest group of moving shadows. They jumped apart, away from the flame, and some life seemed to return to the rest of the guard.


    ¡°We need more wood,¡± Greg said quietly, though he could have saved himself the breath. The guards might have been a little unsure of the details, but they all knew they had been overcome by the Rot, and were already running to stoke the fires.


    When the heat washed over them, they all settled down a little. The vice-like grip on Greg¡¯s skull eased, and he reckoned it was safe to go back to sleep.


    ¡°Do you remember what happened last night?¡± Thoko asked him later the next day, while they were working together on digging out a tree stump. ¡°Cause, a lot of the people on guard last night say you were the one waking them up, but you had first watch, right?¡±


    Greg looked over to her. He didn¡¯t like the question, especially given what she had said to him back in Eoforwic, but if he just claimed to not remember anything, she probably wouldn¡¯t believe him.


    ¡°I woke up in the middle of the night,¡± he finally said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what woke me up. There were a lot of people frozen right outside my tent, so I shook them awake.¡±


    ¡°Why weren¡¯t you frozen?¡± Thoko asked promptly.


    Greg hacked into an especially stubborn root. ¡°Hell if I know,¡± he lied. ¡°Had some silver under my head, maybe that did the trick.¡±


    ¡°Damn lucky,¡± Thoko said, but she didn¡¯t sound convinced.


    ¡°It was,¡± Greg agreed. ¡°Let¡¯s just be grateful the rain has let up.¡±


    There was indeed a sliver of sunlight breaking through the clouds. It wasn¡¯t much, but so far, it was keeping the Rot away.


    Isaac joined them at the next tree stump. The mood in the camp was subdued, and the three of them didn¡¯t talk for a long time until Isaac asked: ¡°Where do ye reckon the creatures are now?¡±


    ¡°They must be far away, right?¡± Greg said. ¡°I can¡¯t feel anything, or do you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s it,¡± Thoko said, huffing. ¡°Father said the Rot just sort of sinks back into the ground. That¡¯s why it survives, you see? Back home, the sun burns it out of the earth. But here?¡±


    She swiped her foot through the layer of last year¡¯s leaves on the forest floor. ¡°It just hides.¡±


    ¡°But shouldn¡¯t we still feel it then?¡± Greg argued.


    ¡°With magic?¡± Thoko gave back. ¡°And worse, corrupted magic? Who knows.¡±


    ¡°Why would it retreat so far?¡± Isaac chimed in. ¡°If it¡¯s hiding from the sun, it can do that right over there, ye know?¡± He pointed towards the underbrush, just a few yards behind them.


    ¡°Good question,¡± Greg said. ¡°But if it¡¯s close, again, why can¡¯t we feel anything?¡±


    ¡°Cause of the sun, I reckon,¡± Thoko said. ¡°That¡¯s why the Valoise worship it, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure,¡± Greg said, wiping the sweat from his eyes, ¡°that they worshipped Mithras before they knew about the Rot. I mean, the Church of Mithras is old, like, a couple of thousand years old. And the Rot is only known since the Valoise started expanding their Empire, about four hundred years ago.¡±


    ¡°And how do you know that?¡± Thoko wanted to know. ¡°I mean, how did you know about Maravi?¡±


    ¡°My parents think education is really important,¡± Greg sighed.


    ¡°For hunting werewolves?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got three older brothers,¡± Greg said. ¡°Only one of us can inherit. So we were all educated by a private tutor, Mr. Higgins. How about you, Isaac?¡± he tried to change the topic. ¡°Where are you from, your family?¡±


    ¡°My family is much like yers,¡± Isaac said with a shrug. ¡°Been here since my grandparents came, lived in Eoforwic. It¡¯s a good community, and the Mithrans hardly ever bother us. I feel ye for the whole education thing. We didn¡¯t have a private tutor, though, and school¡­ Well, it just wasn¡¯t for me, ye know? Started when I was just a little boy and had to learn me letters. I could memorize the whole ABC, no problem, ye know? Draw them nice and clean on the chalkboard and all that. But when I was supposed to put them together and read, I couldn¡¯t do it. The teacher thought I was lazy, of course, beat the crap out of me. But I just didn¡¯t ¨C couldn¡¯t do it, even if my life depended on it.¡±


    He wiped his face. ¡°Luckily, my parents gave up pretty fast and sent my little brother instead. Done all sorts of jobs since then.¡±


    ¡°How old are you, anyway?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Twenty-tree,¡± Isaac said. ¡°What about you?¡±


    Greg was so surprised about Isaac¡¯s answer that he forgot to lie. ¡°Seventeen,¡± he said, which made Isaac nod his head.


    ¡°Thought so,¡± he said but didn¡¯t ask anything more.


    At night, Greg threw himself around inside his tent. He should make use of the good weather, but he couldn¡¯t forget what Thoko had said. That the Rot was close, lurking right beneath the surface of the forest floor. If that was true, then one rainfall would be enough to bring it back out.


    And if he wasn¡¯t there¡­


    If he hadn¡¯t been there, everyone in the camp might have died last night. And he liked these people, Isaac, Thoko, Smith the engineer, Eyal and the rest of his family. Even some of the mercenaries, though most of the time all they did was make jokes about how the rest of them worked.


    If he left, he put them all in danger. If he stayed, he did the same.


    But he could probably stay a little longer.


    For the whole next week, the sun was warm and bright, and there was no sign of the Rot. The moon, meanwhile, went from a narrow crescent to half, and then to gibbous. Greg still couldn¡¯t bring himself to leave. Two nights before full moon, he told himself, that should be plenty of time to put distance between himself and the camp.


    He knew he was cutting it close, and so of course, as soon as he had packed his belongings, the weather turned again. He had meant to make his move during his fire watch, but at noon, big, towering black thunderclouds moved over their stretch of forest. Eyal stared at the weather front for a few minutes, had a word with Smith, and then ordered them to stop working and to return to camp immediately. They had built up a nice stack of firewood by now, but as soon as the trenches were filled, Eyal had them cut up more trees, just in case.


    ¡°This is going to be bad,¡± Isaac grunted, while furiously swinging his axe.


    Greg agreed silently, though for different reasons. There was no way he could leave tonight, but even if he could, somehow, protect them all from the Rot again, how could he then save them from himself? Would he get far enough away, before full moon came?


    ¡°Might blow over us,¡± Thoko said, but it was fairly obvious that she didn¡¯t believe her own words.


    Half an hour later the first big drops hit their tents, and the wind did its best to blow them off their feet. Soon, it was almost as dark as night, and they had to light the fires early. It was a fight to get them to burn at all, despite the fact that they had spent the last week collecting as many dry twigs as possible.


    When the flames finally guttered the gang came together for a late lunch. Greg wasn¡¯t the only one who kept glancing over at the ditches. They were all calculating. How long could this rain last? Did they have enough wood? And what if they couldn¡¯t keep the fires burning?


    ¡°Maybe the Rot won¡¯t come,¡± one of the mercenaries said. Greg couldn¡¯t remember his name; Randy, or Randal, or something like that.


    But Greg could already feel it, the pressure on his whole skull, like a vice locked around his temples, slowly crushing them. From the way Thoko and Isaac grimaced, he reckoned that they could feel it, too.


    ¡°Think we¡¯ll make it?¡± Isaac asked after a while.


    He hadn¡¯t spoken very loudly, and yet every movement seemed to still as people strained to hear the answer. Greg wasn¡¯t sure if he was the right one to reassure them ¨C wasn¡¯t that part of Eyal¡¯s job?


    But then again, he was one of the people Isaac had been talking to, and he actually had some reassurance to give.


    ¡°Just keep your torches close by,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°You going to sleep on your purse again?¡± Thoko asked, and tried to smile, but didn¡¯t quite manage.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to sleep at all.¡±


    He did climb into his tent, eventually, mostly to get out of the rain. The pressure on his head was still mounting, and suddenly he could feel something new, too, something he suspected had nothing to do with the Rot, or the weather, or the sense of doom all around him, but rather the time of the month: He wanted to go out and fight, rip ¨C something ¨C apart with his bare hands. It didn¡¯t even have to be the Rot, he would have been perfectly happy to take on anyone right now, as long as he got to do some violence.


    Greg wrapped his arms around himself as if he could keep this new urge inside that way. He had never felt like this before. Part of the reason why his father and brothers had been so hesitant to take him out hunting was that, as a boy, he had absolutely hated conflict and fighting. He had cried for hours after he had killed his first rabbit. Granted, he had only been five, but still, it certainly hadn¡¯t been the prospect of killing anything that had made him want to follow his brothers again and again.


    Around Greg¡¯s tent, the wind was howling. Lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled, and the trees were groaning in the storm, and still, every few minutes he could hear someone walk by. Every time he heard the steps, he had to stop himself from throwing himself out there and taking a swing at the unseen guard.


    Was this what going mad felt like? Was this what it started like for all the monsters his father had hunted, the ones that would creep into a village when the moon was barely a crescent, and murder farmers and livestock alike?


    Greg tried to predict when the next guard would come by, and breathe in slowly, deep into his belly, hold it for a couple of seconds and release it just as controlled, a technique his father had taught him to calm his nerves before shooting. He closed his eyes, and in his mind fixed a target that wasn¡¯t really there, imagined the pressure of the stock of the crossbow against his shoulder, the aiming, finally pulling the trigger.


    He became so deeply immersed in his meditation that it took him a while to realize that all he could hear outside was the storm. Then a breeze flapped the entrance to his tent, bringing with it the fetid smell of the swamp, and it finally sunk in what that silence had to mean. Greg pushed himself to his feet and out of the tent in one tumble, and almost crashed into a not-anymore-deer-creature. It still had a hide of tattered brown on its back, but there was some kind of fungus growing on top of it, and the rest of it was ¨C just wrong, even though Greg could hardly see.


    Because the camp was dark, only a few embers left beside the ditches which had filled with rainwater.


    Greg swore softly under his breath and looked around. In a flash of lightning he could see two, maybe three of the rotting creatures, and then the smell really hit him, the stink and the dark magic, like a right hook straight into his stomach. For one moment, he couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t breathe, couldn¡¯t think. And then the fury came flooding back, the mindless need for violence, and he was free, free from whatever influence the Rot brought.


    Some part of Greg recognized the figure that was lying right next to the entrance of his tent: Isaac. That thing he had almost stumbled over had scuttled out of his way and was now crouched over his still form.


    Greg kicked the thing and was surprised when it hissed at him. He hadn¡¯t even known that the Rot creatures could make sounds. Apparently, they also defended themselves when attacked, because the thing tried to bite him with jaws that looked like they had grown from a piece of gnarly root wood.


    It hurt, even more than Greg had expected, like a bite from a full-grown horse. And when the thing tried to run him over, it had all the power of a charging bull and none of the lithe gracefulness of a deer. Greg landed hard on his back, and in the next moment, he could feel his bones shift, as if in answer. He wasn¡¯t sure how he managed to stop himself from turning into a wolf right then and there, but he was terrified of what would happen if he did. Would he be able to stop himself once the Rot creatures were destroyed, or would he take advantage of his comrades¡¯ state and finish what the Rot had started?


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He looked over to Isaac again, and he could see the helpless terror in the other man¡¯s eyes. Now that he was lying flat on the ground the deer-thing had returned to its victim, towering over Isaac¡¯s body, just waiting. He needed a weapon, a shovel, anything, to drive this monster away. Could he even kill something that wasn¡¯t really alive in the first place?


    Fire should work. Fire should cleanse the dark magic animating the Rot. So should silver.


    Fire was easier, though.


    Greg pushed himself back to his feet and scrambled to where there were still some flames flickering by the ditch, pulling a burning log out of the sorry, soggy mess their defences had turned into. The deer-creature shrieked when Greg came at it with his new weapon and ran away. Greg shook Isaac, who didn¡¯t move but at least seemed to be breathing steadily.


    Greg hurried over to where the gang had stacked dry torches. One, he stuck into the ground right next to Isaac before lighting it. Then he lit a second one and dropped his log before his fingers got singed. Wherever he found a body he planted a burning torch, herding the once-deer and two other rot-creatures through the camp. When he opened the big tent where most of Isaac¡¯s family slept, two more came at him from inside. One was tiny, no bigger than a fox, the other looked eerily like a small human, only made completely from dead plant matter.


    Greg managed to avoid the humanoid figure but stomped onto the fox-thing with one of his heavy work boots. When he brought the torch around, it almost lifted Greg off the ground in its effort to get away, but then there was a sizzle, and the tiny twigs that formed what looked like ears caught fire.


    The thing screeched an earsplitting shriek that surprised Greg so much he pulled his boot away. The thing raced across the camp like a tiny lightning bolt and was gone so fast Greg couldn¡¯t even see where it vanished to. It still felt good to know he could actually hurt these things. A human wouldn¡¯t be able to do what he was doing now, not without some major magic, the kind of magic that had spawned the Rot in the first place.


    He planted a torch next to the entrance of the big tent, but that was the last torch he had, besides the one he had in his hands. Which was already getting rather short, too. As if they could sense it, the remaining four creatures were closing in on him. Greg retreated towards the pile of torches and managed to grab a couple more before the things corned him right next to the stack.


    He managed to light one torch without dropping the other, then tossed the stump at the slowest of the four, a formless lump like a tree stump that had just gotten up and decided to walk around. It had a crown on top like an overgrown bird¡¯s nest, only it looked like it might be made of bone, and Greg managed to get the burning torch stuck right in there.


    The deep, bellowing roar of the thing shook the whole camp. When it took off it wasn¡¯t nearly as fast as the Rot-fox had been, so Greg could see it go, see it pass through the ditch, and into the forest. For a second, Greg just stood there, staring after it before he remembered to light the second torch. When he pointed one flame at each of the remaining monsters they, too, fled, which was a shame. He would have loved to set them afire, to hurt them. Make them bleed, if they even could.


    His bones were shifting again.


    Greg had no idea how long he stood there, shaking, a torch in each hand, struggling to remain human. Eventually, one of the flames reached his fingers and he dropped it with a yelp.


    The rain had almost died down, and the rest of the gang started to move again. Greg took another deep breath, to stop himself from pummelling anyone back into the mud, and walked over to the closest stretch of the ditch. It was almost completely filled with water, and what little wood was left in there was so soaked it would not burn for a few days.


    Greg looked up into the sky. There was no way of telling what time it was, but he guessed that it wasn¡¯t even midnight yet. They needed to get the fires burning again, all around the camp, and he needed to get out of here. The faster the better.


    Although maybe he could find something to eat before he left.


    People stared at him when he started carrying wood logs to the little bank that had formed alongside the ditch they had dug. He had to push them into the loose earth but did manage to set them on fire.


    Suddenly, Eyal¡¯s voice boomed through the camp:


    ¡°What are you all staring for? Give the man a hand, you sissies! Do you want the Rot to eat you? Go, go, go, get the fires going!¡±


    There was a shuffle, and people started helping, but everybody gave Greg a wide berth. Which was just fine. It gave Greg a chance to slip back over to his tent, and grab the knapsack he had packed in the morning.


    ¡°Care to tell us how you did that?¡± Eyal stopped him when he exited the tent. ¡°Or where you plan on going?¡±


    Isaac stood with his uncle, and Thoko was there as well, but all three of them made it a point to stay way out of arm¡¯s reach.


    Greg took another deep breath, but couldn¡¯t quite keep the belligerence out of his voice when he said: ¡°You still haven¡¯t figured it out, huh?¡±


    The wolf was howling in his ears, where only he could hear it, telling him to run or fight, and as a result, he just stood there, frozen in indecision. He knew, in a detached sort of way, that he wasn¡¯t thinking clearly, but he wanted to tell them. Wanted to yell at them, to scream, wanted them to understand or rip their throats out.


    ¡°Is this some Valoisian magic?¡± Eyal asked, and behind him, several navvies hefted their axes instead of tending to the fire. ¡°Are you some sort of ¨C some sort of spy?¡±


    That made Greg laugh, though it sounded slightly hysterical. ¡°Sure, I¡¯m a spy. And the Valoise like you all so much, they specifically ordered me not to make a runner before I saved all your lives.¡±


    ¡°So is this something this girlfriend of yours gave you?¡± Thoko wanted to know.


    ¡°I thought you were smarter than that,¡± Greg huffed. He could barely hear himself talking over the growl of the werewolf in his ears. ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t believe me when I told you about the girl.¡± He rubbed his temples, but that didn¡¯t help. ¡°I told you all, right when we met, that my father hunts werewolves.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± Isaac wanted to know.


    Greg stared at them. Really, they still hadn¡¯t gotten it? Did he have to spell it out for them?


    Should he?


    But once the weather cleared, and they could all see the moon, they were sure to put it together, anyway. So what was the point of drawing this out? There was no way they could come after him, or even send for a hunter, and if he told them now, he¡¯d at least know how far he needed to run.


    ¡°Oh, come on, guys, everyone knows this!¡± Greg growled when they just stared at him. ¡°Every full moon, some hunters go out and kill monsters, and some get killed. And some are bitten.¡±


    There was a long silence after this, but to Greg¡¯s slight surprise, neither of the three took a step away from him.


    He was just about to simply walk away when Eyal asked: ¡°Is this your first full moon?¡±


    ¡°Second,¡± Greg said. ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    ¡°Will you come back?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Greg wasn¡¯t the only one who was shocked by that question. Several of the men had stopped working and were standing close enough that Greg could hear them muttering between themselves.


    Eyal obviously heard them too, because he raised his voice when he said: ¡°I don¡¯t know about everyone else here, but the way I see it, you saved everyone in this camp twice in just the last two weeks. And I would rather be mauled to death and be done with it than have one of those hell spawns standing over me until the stink suffocates me.¡±


    How very reassuring.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Greg said slowly. ¡°I have no idea what will happen in the next few nights. And I really need to leave now. Unless you are in a hurry to get mauled to death.¡±


    Eyal hesitated. ¡°Just ¨C think about it,¡± he finally said. ¡°We won¡¯t harm you if you do come back.¡±


    Greg had some serious doubts that he was speaking for everyone in the gang, but he had no more time to waste discussing this.


    The forest was dark and wet, and Greg was miserable and missing his tent before he had been walking for more than an hour. The rain didn¡¯t start up again, but big, heavy drops kept falling from the trees and got under his collar, ran down his spine. Andrew and Nathan used to laugh at him because he jumped every time it happened, and still, Greg would have given everything to have them here with him. His father, and David, too. Provided they weren¡¯t out to kill him.


    Had they gotten his letter? Or had the kid forgotten it, or worse, decided to pocket the whole silver and just conveniently lose the letter?


    Maybe he could send another one, sometime.


    If he really could return to the gang once the moon had waned a little.


    That thought hurt, that hope. He had almost made himself accept this new fact of life, that he would never be able to stay anywhere, with anyone, for more than a couple of weeks. That he would be lying pretty much constantly about who he was, where he came from. That he was on his own.


    And there was no way Eyal would keep his word, was there? There was no way everybody in the butty gang, almost fifty people altogether, would be okay with a werewolf in their midst.


    Right?


    He would be insane to go back. All it took was for one of the mercenaries to cut his throat on new moon when he was nearly human, or for one of the workers to cave in his skull with an axe. Cut off his head any other night and he was just as dead. And surely there was someone there who had a piece of silver to spare if it meant killing a werewolf.


    There was no way Eyal could keep his word, or guarantee his safety.


    And yet¡­


    All the way to Mannin, that was the goal of Eyal and his family, Thoko, Smith, some of the others. All the way to Mannin, that meant crossing the Savre, crossing the fetid swamp that surrounded it, an area where the Rot never rested, not even in the hottest of summers. Where even during the day they wouldn¡¯t be completely safe.


    Unless a werewolf stood guard over them.


    And if it took six months to get to Sheaf, how long would it take to get to Mannin? Two years? More? Could this butty gang become his new family for that time?


    But he was being absurd. He might, might be able to protect them from the Rot, but how would they protect themselves from him? It wasn¡¯t like they could dig a dungeon for him every full moon, was it?


    Sure, fire could permanently hurt or kill a werewolf, but that was only a deterrent to a creature that had a sense of self-preservation. It was perfectly possible for him to break through their wall of fire and go on a rampage inside the camp. So unless they found a way to restrain him, keeping their distance would be the safest way. Which would require him to leave the camp, not just two days before the actual full moon, but much, much earlier. And in that time they wouldn¡¯t be safe from the Rot.


    Greg cursed softly and pushed on through the underbrush. Could maybe a cage hold a werewolf? Something that could be loaded onto a cart? Could wood and iron be made that strong by human tools? He desperately wished he could ask his father. Bram would know, surely?


    But the only thing that he knew for sure would keep a werewolf away was a strong enchantment. And those were not only impossible to come by, but they would also create more problems than they solved.


    Because magic was both unpredictable, and also left a residue, a poison that seeped into everything it touched, twisting it, changing it. The more powerful a spell was, the bigger the side effects were, and the more refuse it left behind. The Rot infecting Loegrion was a direct result of the spells the Valoise had used during the war when they had first invaded the country. The Valoise had known of the danger. But before they came to Loegrion they had only ever invaded places with a similarly hot and dry climate as Valoir itself, where the fire of their sacred sun burned out whatever foul after-effect their magic might cause within a single summer. So regulating and limiting the use of magic had been enough to minimize the problem.


    Not in Loegrion, though. Here, the magic had seeped into the ground with the plentiful rain, and many of the rivers and springs that had once made the island fertile and the harvests bountiful had been tainted, twisting everything that drew water from them. And thus the Rot was born.


    It was drawn to magic, no matter what kind. Only fire and silver kept it away, and some complicated and expensive alchemy.


    The Valoise had been shocked when they had realized that their sacred sun was not enough to destroy the Rot for good, that it survived in the shadows of the Loegrian forests, in the marshes and swamps, even in the soil of the rich green pastures and fields, that had made them covet the country in the first place.


    Thousands of acres in the heartlands had been burned and ploughed under, and burned again, and there, even the forests were mostly safe. Still, a drop of blood spilled in the wrong place, a mother giving birth on the wrong day, the life force released with it could have terrible consequences. The very wealthy paid to have their lands treated by alchemists, but a common farmer could only dream of their services.


    How would people react, if they knew that they might hire a werewolf instead? Surely, a sane werewolf was less scary than the Rot?


    And how was it possible that in over two-hundred years nobody had found out about this?


    Or did the Valoise know? Was that why the church ordered all werewolves dead, not just the mad ones? Yes, all werewolves were mad on full moon, mad to kill and spread the curse. But was that the whole reason?


    The Valoise certainly profited from the Rot, from the fearful and desperate begging Mithras for protection, making donations, obeying their commandments. Even the alchemists were generally Valoise.


    Greg chuckled darkly. This certainly explained why the Empire was willing to pay so much for any dead werewolf.


    He stopped, exhausted, and sat down on a fallen tree. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the trunk of a birch tree moving on gangly roots, but he couldn¡¯t smell or feel the malice the Rot brought with it. Certainly a magical side effect, but not as dangerous then. And even if it had been, Greg wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d have the energy to move. Within just one night the Rot had lost its ability to terrify him.


    Greg had no idea how long he sat on his log, staring into nothing, just brooding over the situation. Eventually, he managed to convince himself to get moving again, to push on through the forest. The foliage and the clouds were so dense that he could rarely see the stars, so he was mostly guessing which direction he needed to go. Hopefully, he was moving north, further into the wildlands, not towards Sheaf or Eoforwic. Any road through the forest should be deserted this time of month, so he wasn¡¯t too worried about running into travellers. Hell, anyone out in this area on full moon deserved whatever happened to them.


    Greg shook his head. It was easy to say this now, but he knew he would never forgive himself if he ever found out that he did hurt somebody.


    When he stopped the next time, the gloom of pre-dawn was creeping through the forest, and there was a deer standing right in his path. Greg froze before he realized that this was just a deer, not the strange undead thing he had fought against a few hours ago.


    What he hadn¡¯t been ready for was the instinct of hunt-kill-eat that came over him in the same moment, even though he probably should have, by now.


    He had made three steps towards the prey before he could stop himself. What was he going to do, kill it with his bare hands?


    The deer, of course, had taken off.


    Greg looked after it and then shrugged. He hadn¡¯t managed to bring any food from the camp, so he might as well follow his new instincts ¨C in a smart way. He pulled the crossbow out of his pack and gave it a quick once-over. It seemed to have taken travelling better than he had feared. So he found himself a spot nestled into the huge root of another fallen tree, downwind from the deer crossing.


    He spent a lot more time waiting for game than he probably should have. He did get lucky, though. A young fallow deer, a buck, walked almost into him, easily a hundred pounds of pure meat. Much more than one man alone would be able to eat or even carry.


    But he wasn¡¯t just a man, was he?


    Only when he settled down to gut the deer did it hit him that it was, in fact, too much meat for him to carry. He cursed softly at himself, got up, and tried to lift the buck on top of his pack. He could barely move it. There was no way he was leaving the meat behind. Sun, he was hungry again.


    For a minute or two, he just stood there. He could feel his thoughts go in circles, and eventually, hunger won. So he sat down again, got a fire going, and cut a piece of meat out of the shoulder.


    He really should have considered the logistics of this. The hunter in him wanted to skin the deer and hang it so the meat could rest properly, but really, what was the point? He couldn¡¯t even carry it, and the monster he would turn into tomorrow evening wouldn¡¯t care.


    But there was no way he was leaving any of his kill behind. Which meant that he had to either stay put where he was ¨C not too bad a spot for a campsite, but just a few hours of walking away from the navvy camp ¨C or he had to find a way of transforming right now. He knew that it was possible, he just had no idea how to do it.


    Greg had no pan to grill the meat, and for a wild moment, he wanted to eat it raw. He did try a bite, but apparently, his instincts didn¡¯t match up to his current body. Which was a shame, because he might have saved himself the time of building up his fire and cooking the meat first otherwise. It still wasn¡¯t quite done when hunger overruled his patience.


    After he had eaten, he gathered all his things together again and made sure everything was tied to his knapsack in some way, even the buck. Then he took his clothes off and tried to concentrate.


    It couldn¡¯t be that hard, right? Even the maddest monsters could do it, the ones who had no humanity, no reason, and mind left whatsoever.


    All Greg managed to do was freeze his ass off.


    How did he change his shape? He had almost done it just last night, when the Rot had attacked him, like the most violent defensive reflex imaginable. But how could he do it now, when he was mostly calm? What was the trick? Or wasn¡¯t there a trick? Did you maybe have to be mad to turn when it wasn¡¯t full moon?


    But no, that couldn¡¯t be right either. He had very nearly turned yesterday, and he wasn¡¯t mad. He was refusing to even consider that possibility, because if he did, he would most certainly go mad.


    No, he was being ridiculous. If he was mad, and only mad werewolves transformed outside of full moon¡­


    Greg shook his head. This was insane. He was so cold, his breath came in short, painful bursts, and there was no way he could concentrate like this. When he tried to get up to retrieve his clothes from his pack, he stumbled, hitting his knees.


    And there it was, the shifting in his bones, the cramping muscles. Greg took a few steadying breaths, just like he had when the Rot attacked, and just like last night, it went away again.


    Greg swore loudly this time.


    For a few seconds, he sat there, still breathing sharply. Then he swore again and reached into the glowing embers of his small fire. He didn¡¯t even have to touch them: as soon as the heat became unbearable, his fingers felt as if they were retracting into his palm. Greg shuddered and pulled his hand away, holding his breath this time. He was balancing on a tightrope, losing his balance, in fact. But how could he control on which side of the rope he fell down?


    Greg bit his lips and pushed his hand back into the fire. As soon as he singed his fingers, the pain spread everywhere while his body fell apart and rearranged itself.


    There had to be a better way of doing this, Greg thought when he got back to his feet ¨C four feet ¨C and felt a sharp pain in one of his paws. But at least he was still thinking, that was a plus, even though the smell of blood, of food, made it really hard.


    He started on the deer before he could stop himself. Only when half the buck was gone did he manage to get himself under control again.


    Except that it wasn¡¯t really his self. It was ¨C he was ¨C someone else right now, or maybe there was something else in his head with him, something powerful, and very, very strange. Right now, in broad daylight, it didn¡¯t even feel malicious, or angry, just ¨C different. There was the avalanche of smells, and again that need to run that he had felt before, only stronger. It was hard to remember to pick up the stuff he had packed, and the strings of his knapsack felt awkward in his mouth ¨C muzzle.


    Still, he moved a lot faster dragging the pack and the remaining half of his dead buck in this shape than he would have if he had tried that human.


    When the moon came up ¨C first night of full moon, though the sun was still in the sky ¨C it got even harder to remember why he was bringing all this stuff, and why he couldn¡¯t just eat the rest of the deer right now, why he couldn¡¯t go hunting for more deer. He could smell them all around. Other animals, too. Small animals, helpless little things¡­


    By the time the sun came up again, the deer was gone, eaten up sometime during the night. Once again, he had no memory of what had happened after sundown, but he did still have his knapsack. He had to count that as a win. If he lost his crossbow, and his other stuff, that would really suck.


    He was starting to get tired now. Considering that he hadn¡¯t slept for two nights in a row that was pretty amazing, that he was only now starting to feel the exhaustion. He pushed on, though, walking at a sedate pace. He didn¡¯t even try to change his shape.


    Just keep going. Away from the camp. Away from Isaac, and Thoko, and Eyal, and Smith, everyone. Keep going.


    Eventually, the full moon rose, round and perfect, and everything after that was just a blur of fury and terror until the sun rose again.


    At least it was pretty warm when he came to his senses stark naked. For a while he just lay there on the ground, too tired to move a single muscle.


    When he woke again, it was past noon and his stomach was cramping with hunger. He sat up and looked around, and had no idea where he was or were his clothes might be. After a few seconds, he bit his tongue, hard, until he was balancing on the tightrope again.


    The transformation made the hunger even worse, but he managed to find his own scent fairly quickly and followed that until he found his pack. Unfortunately, there was no food left at all, and now that he was a wolf becoming human again seemed nearly impossible. How had he managed that last month?


    He tried to get his head together, relax as much as his is empty stomach would allow it, but there was a smell, a smell that made it impossible. Blood.


    Eventually, Greg gave up and followed his nose. He was both shocked, and yet somehow not surprised when he found another dead deer at the end, red deer, if he wasn¡¯t mistaken. It had been dead for some time. There was a Rot creature crouched over it, and Greg could see where its vines were burying into the flesh. The skin around that point had taken a greenish hue. He couldn¡¯t see the injury, but there was blood on the ground around the deer.


    Greg just stared for a few seconds. The other part of him knew exactly what it wanted, though, and he found himself moving forward. The rotten thing hissed at him, and without thinking about it, Greg bit it, closed his jaws around its twisted form. It felt like wood, and it tasted like dirt and something sour. It was soft as wax between his jaws, and damn, that felt good. The thing screamed, and Greg shook his head, threw the creature from left to right, until a big part of it came loose, and the rest of the thing went flying against a tree. With one jump Greg was on top of it and ripped it to pieces, like old paper.


    When he was sure that this Rot monster would never move again, he walked over to the dead deer and started feeding.


    Greg thought it was disgusting. He wasn¡¯t a carrion eater, damn it. But there was no way he was stopping, either. So he allowed himself to take a back seat for the moment. The other in his head knew what it wanted and how to get it. When it had eaten its fill, Greg was about to curl up next to the remains of the deer. But then he realized that he might as well use the super nose he was now in command of to try and find some water. Preferably some that didn¡¯t smell like a swamp.

 Chapter 9

    Greg cursed inwardly when he woke up the next morning, still furry and four-legged. On the plus side, he still had all his stuff, and he didn¡¯t feel like he was starving. On the downside, he must have strayed away from his old track sometime at night.


    So he might as well go and try to find more water before he tried to retrace which direction he should be going in. It was amazing the things he could smell now. Water? Easy. He found at least a dozen trails, too. Places to come back to, perhaps, once he had figured out how to become a human being who could hold a crossbow.


    He was so intent on following the fresh smell of a small creek that he didn¡¯t realize he could also scent old smoke until he was suddenly standing among tree stumps. Someone screamed, ¡°Shoot it!¡±, and another voice yelled: ¡°Get Eyal!¡±


    Greg retreated back between the trees but didn¡¯t run, frozen in indecision.


    ¡°Greg? Please tell me that is you, man,¡± he could hear Isaac call.


    Greg would have laughed if he had been able to. Did he look like he could tell anyone anything?


    ¡°Come on, Greg,¡± Isaac continued. Greg was really surprised when he realized that the voice was coming closer.


    ¡°No one¡¯s gonna shoot ye, ye just scared the crap out of us, ye know? Give us some warning next time, before ye show up like the big bad wolf.¡±


    Greg could feel himself starting to shake a little. He was panting like an overheated dog, while he listened to Isaac break through the underbrush. This guy was either the bravest man he had ever met or the dumbest, but the far more pressing question was what would happen once they were standing face to face.


    However, when Isaac did break through the underbrush, just a few yards away from him, Greg felt himself relax. He could do this. It was all good, at least as long as the sun was up.


    ¡°Oy gevalt,¡± Isaac whispered, and stopped dead. He swallowed hard and pressed on: ¡°Hi, Greg. Ye gonna come back to the camp with me?


    Come on, don¡¯t just stare at me like that, that¡¯s creepy. Ye can understand me, right?¡±


    Greg lowered his head and raised it again.


    ¡°That¡¯s a nod, right?¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes but repeated the gesture.


    ¡°Right, a nod. Great, we have communication. So, ye gonna come?¡±


    Greg sat down on the ground.


    ¡°I take it that¡¯s a no. Why not? Damn it, ye aren¡¯t leaving, are ye? We kinda need ye, ye know?¡±


    Greg thought about it, then shook his head.


    ¡°No? No, ye¡¯re not leaving or no, we don¡¯t need ye?¡±


    Greg shook his whole body, like a dog that was trying to dry its pelt.


    Isaac narrowed his eyes. ¡°Are ye leaving?¡± he asked again.


    Greg gave the ¡°no¡± shake.


    ¡°Well, thank God,¡± Isaac muttered. ¡°But ye¡¯re not coming into camp right now?¡±


    Greg nodded.


    Isaac considered this. ¡°Fair enough,¡± he finally said. ¡°Ye gonna wait here, let me get Eyal?¡±


    Greg laid down on the ground, nodded again.


    Isaac took a half step closer, paused again, stepped back.


    ¡°Just wait here,¡± he said, and then took off in a hurry.


    Greg sighed. He could hear more shouting a moment later, and somebody wanted to know how Isaac could be so sure that it was really him. He could hear more steps, too, while Isaac was still talking, and then he could see Thoko and Smith coming towards him. A little further behind them followed two of Isaac¡¯s cousins, Anshel and Gavrel with their axes, and Dicun, one of the mercenaries, who had his hand on his pistol. Greg got back to his feet.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned,¡± Smith muttered, and just like Isaac, he stopped in his tracks. Thoko, however, came a few steps closer until she was almost within arm¡¯s reach, putting herself most certainly in Greg¡¯s reach.


    ¡°Careful,¡± Dicun muttered.


    Thoko frowned. ¡°I always thought the stories were just exaggerations,¡± she said thoughtfully as if Dicun hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°I kind of assumed a werewolf would be closer to an actual wolf in size than a horse. How long will he stay like this?¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± Smith said. ¡°The only one who knows is probably him.¡±


    ¡°He can understand ye just fine,¡± Isaac interrupted, who was back with Eyal.


    ¡°How do you know?¡± Anshel asked, sounding dubious.


    ¡°Cause he answered my questions,¡± Isaac said. There was a definite note of smugness in his voice. ¡°Yes and no only, of course, but still.¡±


    ¡°Is that true?¡± Eyal asked, his firm gaze fixed on Greg.


    Greg nodded, which for some reason made everybody except for Isaac jump.


    ¡°All right,¡± Eyal said. ¡°Isaac said you¡¯re willing to stay?¡±


    Greg nodded again.


    ¡°But you won¡¯t come into camp today?¡±


    Greg laid down and nodded again. He had a feeling that this yes and no stuff would get old really fast.


    ¡°So you want to stay right here?¡±


    Greg shook his coat again like a dog, and Isaac helpfully explained: ¡°I think that¡¯s supposed to mean ¡®maybe¡¯, or ¡®I don¡¯t know¡¯, or something. When he means ¡®no¡¯ he just shakes his head.¡±


    Greg nodded along. Sun, he was feeling stupid.


    ¡°But you¡¯ll be staying close?¡±


    Yes.


    ¡°Right,¡± Eyal said. ¡°Got any idea when you¡¯ll start looking like yourself again?¡±


    No.


    Eyal paused, shrugged, and repeated: ¡°Right. We need to get back to work. And¡­ well, we¡¯ll keep the fires going tonight, I hope you understand that.¡±


    Yes.


    Smart choice, Greg wanted to add.


    He looked after them when they returned to work, and curled up, trying to go to sleep. Mostly he was bored, and after a while, he got up again and dragged his pack onwards until he could see the workers again. Right on the border of the forest and the clear-felled area, he settled down again. All work stopped on the clearing for a moment until Eyal started shouting, and people hurried to get moving again.


    Greg was so bored he almost wished he could help them. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to doze a little. Finally, he realized that this was what he had been waiting for. He dragged his pack a little deeper into the forest and closed his eyes until he felt like a crossbow string when the trigger was pulled and all the strain was released in one violent motion. He staggered around in agony, while his body rearranged itself.


    Greg groaned and hurried to get up. His human skin was a lot less tough than the wolf¡¯s hide, and sitting on last year¡¯s fir cones was not very comfortable. He quickly put his clothes on and then leaned against a tree. Somehow, the thought of walking into the camp looking like this was even more awkward than as a wolf.


    But damn it, he was hungry, and he didn¡¯t have the energy to go hunting.


    ¡°Look who¡¯s back,¡± drawled Dicun when Greg came out of the trees into the clearing. ¡°Feeling better?¡±


    He was surprisingly relaxed for someone who had been face to face with a monster less than an hour ago. Most of the others were more cautious and kept their distance. They all stared, of course.


    Or rather, not all. There were some noticeable gaps in the rows of workers felling trees and digging up stumps. Greg swallowed hard.


    ¡°You saved most of us,¡± Eyal said, suddenly appearing at Greg¡¯s side. ¡°Not all of us, unfortunately.¡±


    Greg looked around, counting, trying to remember how many they had been when they had left Eoforwic. A little more than fifty, he thought. Now he could see just over thirty men. That couldn¡¯t be right, though, could it? The few Rot creatures who had invaded the camp couldn¡¯t have killed twenty workers?


    ¡°How many¡­?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Dead? Three,¡± Eyal said matter-of-factly. ¡°The others left this morning. All of the convicts are gone, and most of the mercenaries.¡±


    ¡°Because of me,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Probably part of the reason,¡± Eyal shrugged. ¡°The convicts didn¡¯t want to be here in the first place. But I reckon it was seeing the Rot up close that drove them away. I don¡¯t think you can imagine what it¡¯s like, lying flat on your back, being unable to move, and feeling that foul, corrupted magic engulf you, the terror of it. You want to scream with the pain, but all you can do is wait to die.¡± He chuckled darkly. ¡°Or wait for a werewolf to walk by, of course. That was terrifying in its own way ¨C seeing you with that torch, like there weren¡¯t Satan¡¯s little brothers walking around our camp.¡±


    He paused, looked down on his feet, and pleaded: ¡°Those of us who¡¯re still here are counting on you to stay.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Greg looked around. ¡°How much money did the duke offer?¡±


    ¡°You know this isn¡¯t about money,¡± Eyal sighed.


    ¡°Not for your family,¡± Greg said. ¡°But you can¡¯t tell me that everyone else here is after that land grant, too?¡±


    ¡°What were you after when you joined, then?¡± Eyal asked. ¡°If it isn¡¯t a piece of forest of your own?¡±


    That made Greg laugh. ¡°Werewolves aren¡¯t allowed to own land, Eyal. The duke isn¡¯t going to ignore that, or he¡¯ll have a riot on his hands.¡±


    ¡°So why did you join the crew?¡±


    ¡°I just needed a way out.¡±


    ¡°Away from what?¡±


    Greg sighed. ¡°Everything, Eyal. And everyone, too.¡±


    ¡°So you didn¡¯t know a werewolf could fight the Rot?¡±


    Greg looked at him in surprise. ¡°Why would I have known that?¡±


    ¡°Well, you used to be a werewolf hunter, right?¡± Eyal shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s just hard to imagine that in the two hundred years since the Valoise came here, nobody ever found out about this.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I bet the Valoise know,¡± Greg muttered darkly. ¡°I¡¯ve wondered before why they pay so handsomely for all dead werewolves, not just the ones that are threatening their own land. You get exactly the same amount of silver for a werewolf killed north of Mannin, where no Valoise live, as for one killed outside Deva.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re thinking they brought the Rot to Loegrion on purpose?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Greg said. ¡°But I think they do profit from it.¡± He sighed, and changed the topic: ¡°You guys got any food?¡±


    Eyal hesitated. ¡°Some,¡± he said. ¡°But we¡¯re running low. I was actually hoping you might be willing to help with that.¡±


    ¡°I guess I could go hunting,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°Just¡­ lunch first?¡±


    ¡°Actually, I was wondering if you could see what happened to the supplies we were supposed to get,¡± Eyal said. ¡°But sure, lunch first.¡±


    So after a quick meal, Greg left the camp again, walking along the wide path the crew had cleared amidst the trees. He shot himself a couple of squirrels for dinner. By nightfall, he came across what was left of the caravan that had been supposed to bring them their supplies. For a second he worried that it might have been him who had attacked it, but there were no werewolf tracks around, just the weird, deformed imprints the Rot left behind.


    He settled down next to the cart, ate dinner, and fell asleep right after.


    The next morning, he tried to find out what had happened to the animals that had dragged the cart, but there was no trace of them. Most likely, the Rot had taken them.


    Greg had a good root around the wagon. It looked like the Rot wasn¡¯t interested in sacks of beans and flour, and barrels full of preserved vegetables, salted fish and meat. No cheese, though, which was a bit of a disappointment. He really would have liked something he could munch on right now.


    The big question, however, was how he would get it all back to the camp. It would take him hours to walk there, and then the rest of the day to bring the butty gang¡¯s cart back here and get everything loaded. And then he still had to get it all to the navvies.


    Greg sighed and stared at the cart. Without the oxen, it wasn¡¯t going anywhere.


    Unless¡­


    Could he pull it? Not as a human, obviously. But if he could somehow get himself into the harness, then transform, and pull the cart?


    Greg rubbed his face. He had had crazier ideas, even though he couldn¡¯t remember when right now. And it would only cost him a few minutes to try, right?


    Right.


    ¡°This is insane,¡± he muttered, while he had a good look at the yoke. Two oxen had pulled it.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way you¡¯ll pull this alone, Greg.¡±


    But he took off his clothes, dropped them with the rest of his stuff onto the wagon, and put the yoke over his shoulder. He arranged the harness over himself as well as possible and bit down onto his tongue, hard.


    There had to be a better way to trigger his transformation.


    But at least this worked. He did turn into a wolf, and he did end up with the yoke on his back. Even most of the harness was in place. So Greg threw himself forward and couldn¡¯t help but wonder whether or not Eyal had meant for him to do this when he had sent him out, all alone.


    When he started pulling, first all he did was push out the yoke, since half of it wasn¡¯t attached to anything. He had to throw his whole weight into it and dig his claws into the ground just to get the cart rolling, but once it did, it was actually not too bad. The ground was dry and hard, and the butty gang had flattened a path for their own cart.


    This is stupid, Greg thought every time he had to pull the cart out of a pothole. He toiled on, though, until even the werewolf got tired. Better than walking the whole distance two more times.


    The looks he got when he reached the camp were worth the whole effort, Greg decided. Isaac¡¯s jaw literally dropped, and the others stared just as flabbergasted. Then a cheer went up when they all realized they were finally getting their supplies.


    Still, nobody dared to come closer, until Greg started shaking himself, a little annoyed. Isaac at least got the message and helped him to get out of the bloody harness. Thoko followed a little more hesitantly.


    ¡°So¡­¡± she asked while fiddling with the reins, ¡°when you turn human again, do you get your clothes back? No? Well, then you¡¯ll probably want these?¡±


    She offered him the trousers he had thrown onto the cart, and Greg took them between his teeth as gently as he could before plodding off into the forest.


    Turning human again was still much trickier than becoming the wolf. The transformation itself took much longer, too, and hurt even worse. On the upside, dinner was being prepared when he returned into camp, a little hesitating. Eyal had made his men keep a gap open in their defences, so Greg didn¡¯t burn himself when he walked in. The workers were still keen on not getting too close, though.


    Greg wasn¡¯t surprised.


    ¡°You going to stay with the camp tonight?¡± Eyal asked.


    ¡°Only if you don¡¯t mind,¡± Greg said. He would like to sleep in his tent again. It wasn¡¯t exactly luxurious, but better than sleeping on the bare forest floor. It wouldn¡¯t be worth getting his head cut off, though.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be safe, right? Moon is waning again, and all that?¡±


    ¡°As safe as it¡¯s going to be, outside of new moon,¡± Greg sighed.


    ¡°Well, then, there you are,¡± Eyal said. ¡°Just don¡¯t eat anyone tonight.¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± Greg muttered.


    He retreated to his tent right after his bowl was empty. The ring of silence all around him was getting on his nerves. As soon as the tarpaulin flapped behind him, a whole storm of whispers picked up. He tried not to listen, but he didn¡¯t need to hear them anyway, to know what they were all talking about.


    The whispering grew even louder when he picked up an axe the next morning and went to work as if he¡¯d never been gone, but at least the sound of the metal hitting wood made it a lot easier to ignore. He worked right at the head of the trail they were cutting, to keep as much distance to the others as possible, but after a while, Isaac came walking up to work on the tree right next to his.


    ¡°So,¡± the other man said after the first couple of strikes, ¡°ye¡¯re going to work during the day and guard the camp at night? I¡¯m not sure I see that working out so well, long term.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to guard the camp unless it¡¯s raining,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°And I¡¯ll go crazy if I spend the day just milling about.¡±


    ¡°The mercenaries seemed to be doing just fine.¡±


    ¡°Guess they¡¯re used to being bored,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°Look, if you really want to worry about something, worry about new moon.¡±


    ¡°What about new moon?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be as human as everyone else around here on new moon,¡± Greg huffed with his next swing. ¡°I¡¯ve no idea what¡¯ll happen if the Rot attacks us then.¡±


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s a cheery thought,¡± Isaac grumbled. ¡°I had just started to think this whole thing would be easy now.¡±


    ¡°Easy, sure. Except for full moon,¡± Greg muttered. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and lowered his voice. ¡°How okay are the others really with me being here?¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t answer right away.


    ¡°Just ¨C give it some time,¡± he said, once his tree was coming down. ¡°Save their lives a few more times, ye know? And it might also help, I reckon, if ye would give them a chance to get to meet ye. Ye always keep to yerself, ye know? Like right now. Not really helpful if ye want people to trust ye.¡±


    ¡°Thanks a lot for the relationship advice,¡± Greg grumbled. Though maybe Isaac had a point. Making friends had never been his strongest suit. ¡°I¡¯d just rather not get my throat cut.¡±


    Isaac paused, put down his axe, tilted his head to the side. He looked almost a little angry. ¡°Was that a reference to schechitah?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Greg said. ¡°Because I have no clue what that is. I just really don¡¯t like getting killed.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Okay then.¡±


    ¡°What is schechitah?¡± Greg asked.


    Again Isaac took his time with an answer. ¡°It¡¯s the religious method of my people for slaughtering animals allowed for eating,¡± he said, just as Greg thought he had asked something insulting. ¡°It¡¯s the only way of producing meat that we¡¯re allowed to eat. It¡¯s why Eyal asked you to find the supply cart rather than send you out hunting. The meat on there is from one of our own.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Greg said. ¡°Why would I make a reference to that?¡±


    Isaac shrugged. ¡°For Schechitah, the butcher cuts the animal¡¯s throat in one motion, all the way to the bone, and then lets all the blood run out. Cause we don¡¯t eat meat that still has blood inside. Or any blood at all, ye know.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Greg repeated, though he wasn¡¯t sure he really did.


    ¡°There are more rules, but anyway, we hear a lot of, well, jokes about it. And insults. And the Mithrans like to take our traditions, twist them into something as wrong as the Rot, and use it to make us into villains, even monsters. Not so much here in Loegrion, luckily, but still.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really know anything about your traditions,¡± Greg said. ¡°But if I start sounding like the Mithrans, feel free to punch me.¡±


    They went back to felling trees, but Isaac¡¯s words had reminded Greg of something.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got another question,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°Tell me if this is insulting, but ¨C why do the Mithrans call your people the Moon Worshippers? While everyone else on Loegrion calls you the Wayfarers?¡±


    To his relief, Isaac burst out laughing. ¡°They¡¯re idiots, that¡¯s why. Wayfarers is what we call ourselves. Don¡¯t call us Moon Worshippers. Ye see, the Mithrans worship the sun, yes? So their whole calendar, all the months and holidays and stuff is all about, ye know, astronomy and how the sun rises on the longest day of the year and the shortest day of the year, and stuff.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± Greg said. ¡°It¡¯s a solar calendar.¡±


    ¡°Fancy. Well, we don¡¯t worship the sun,¡± Isaac went on. ¡°So our months start when the new moon rises the first time. You might have noticed that we stopped work early last time that happened?¡±


    Greg nodded, wiping some sweat from his face in the same movement.


    ¡°So, yeah,¡± Isaac continued. ¡°The Mithrans have their months based on the sun because they worship the sun, and since their way is obviously the only way to do things, they figured that since our months are based on the moon, we must surely worship the moon.¡±


    He turned back to the work, and added: ¡°So, since we¡¯re talking about the moon phases ¨C how many werewolves really are rabid, and how many just get killed cause it happens to be full moon?¡±


    ¡°Nobody knows,¡± Greg said. ¡°My teacher and I talked about it a lot, but really, nobody is keeping book.¡±


    ¡°So ye¡¯re saying ye hunters don¡¯t know? Even when ye¡¯re killing them, ye have no idea whether ye¡¯re dealing with, well, someone like you, or a mass murderer?¡±


    ¡°How could we?¡± Greg asked. ¡°Or rather, how could they? They just get hired.¡±


    ¡°So they never, I don¡¯t know, try to talk with the werewolf?¡±


    Greg laughed. ¡°No, Isaac. You see, a hunter only gets paid when he can present a ¨C well, a dead werewolf. Cause otherwise, they could just start killing random people and claim they¡¯re werewolves, you know? And people used to, when the Valoise first came here. But anyway, that means the majority of hunters only really go out around full moon.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that like the most dangerous time?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± Greg said. ¡°On full moon, you¡¯re just dealing with a wild animal. A really big, rabid wild animal, but still, just an animal. Any other time of the month, well, you risk dealing with a human mind. A possibly crazy human mind, but all the same, someone who might be making plans, avoid traps, outthink you. Someone who might come after you with a strategy and all the strength of the wolf.¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Well, and on full moon, all werewolves are the same.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d still have thought that ye would ¨C I don¡¯t know, at the very least prioritize the murderous ones.¡±


    ¡°Sort of,¡± Greg grunted, swinging his axe again. ¡°My father always said that a village doesn¡¯t bother alerting the Valoise over someone who is just passing through. Usually not even about a few killed sheep. They most certainly don¡¯t scrape together a bounty. If they make the effort, you can assume that something bad happened, though I¡¯ll admit, sometimes it just means a lot of livestock has been killed.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    The Church will call a hunter on any werewolf they hear about, so with those bounties, you never really know. Sometimes they¡¯ll outright say that it¡¯s a precautionary bounty. Father doesn¡¯t take those, but others will, of course. Still, I reckon that more of the crazy ones are killed than the others. How many there are of either, I really don¡¯t know.¡±


    Greg did try to follow Isaac¡¯s advice during lunch and sit at the big fire in the middle of the camp. He didn¡¯t think it made much difference, though. Nobody was eager to talk to him, and when he spoke to them, people just flinched back.


    So after lunch, he fled back to the work of cutting down trees. At least that way he could pretend that he had wanted to be alone.


    Things didn¡¯t really get better over the next couple of weeks, but on the upside, nobody tried to kill him either. The weather remained dry, and as a result, the Rot stayed away, too. So he didn¡¯t even have an opportunity to ¡°save their lives a few more times.¡±


    ¡°Ye look almost disappointed,¡± Isaac pointed out. ¡°I thought ye would be happy that we all survived new moon.¡±


    ¡°Starting to feel a little useless,¡± Greg admitted. ¡°I mean, considering the danger I¡¯ll put everybody in in a couple of weeks.¡±


    ¡°Last full moon was fine.¡±


    ¡°Last full moon was bloody lucky,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°If I had walked into camp just a few hours earlier, before sunrise and not at noon, you might all be dead now.¡±


    ¡°You were fine every single night I¡¯ve seen you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well. Ever heard people speak about the three nights of full moon? Technically, only one of them is the ¡®real¡¯ thing, but trust me, it doesn¡¯t make that much of a difference, not from a werewolf¡¯s perspective nor from a hunter¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? So what is it like, from a werewolf¡¯s perspective? You never talk about that.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t, really,¡± Greg said. ¡°I don¡¯t remember most of it. Full moon is a complete blur, and the nights before and after are not much better. It¡¯s fine if I can keep calm and stay human, but...¡±


    ¡°So¡­ like sleepwalking?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what sleepwalking is like,¡± Greg said. ¡°But I¡¯m pretty sure sleepwalkers don¡¯t have this irresistible urge to kill everything that moves.¡±


    ¡°Probably not,¡± Isaac agreed easily. He paused, and added: ¡°Tell us another story, then.¡±


    Greg was about to ask who ¡°us¡± was supposed to be when he realized that they had an audience. It looked like Isaac had been right, and the others really were interested in hearing more. Greg sighed and turned back towards the fire. He didn¡¯t feel like talking about what it was like to be a werewolf, but he asked: ¡°What sort of story?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know,¡± Isaac said, waving vaguely. ¡°Something about werewolf hunters, maybe. I bet ye know some good ones.¡±


    Greg didn¡¯t feel like talking about his family and their hunts either. Then he had another idea.


    ¡°Have you ever heard the story of the Morgulon?¡± he asked. He was relieved when the other people around the fire shook their heads. He thought about the story for a moment, and finally started:


    ¡°So, it all began about, oh, thirty years ago. There was a circus in Deva, one of those travelling fairs that show acrobatic acts, jugglers, clowns, trick riding, animals, and an assortment of oddities and freaks from around the world. Their last act was one of them. They would roll in this huge cage made of massive steel bars, covered with a cloth, so that the audience could only see the bars here and there, but had no idea what was inside. They would dim the lights, and the announcer spoke of this terrible, frightening monster, the most dangerous creature in all of Loegrion: The werewolf. And how they had caught this most special of monsters, a werewolf who hadn¡¯t been bitten but had instead been born, a werewolf since birth.¡±


    A murmur went around the campfire, and Greg grinned. ¡°They called it the Morgulon.


    ¡°They would take off the cloth, and there, in this huge metal cage, there was this tiny little girl, four or five years old, wearing nothing but another piece of cloth.¡±


    Greg smiled wryly. ¡°Anyone want to guess what she transformed into?¡±


    ¡°A wolf, I guess, right?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°Not quite,¡± Greg said slowly. ¡°Have you guys ever seen a young puppy, when they¡¯re barely old enough to walk, and they still have those huge, floppy ears? Paws that don¡¯t quite fit their bodies yet, and they just sort of stumble around?¡±


    Isaac nodded, just like the others. Greg thought he could almost see the understanding dawning on their faces.


    ¡°Yes, she transformed into a puppy,¡± he said. ¡°Golden eyes, huge paws, floppy ears. Papers called it the cutest thing on earth. She was so cute, in fact, that people started complaining about the cage. To which of course the circus people had to say that letting a werewolf run around free would be illegal, and that the little girl would be killed if they did let her go.¡±


    Greg paused. ¡°She had never hurt anyone. Probably never been outside that cage or at the very least the circus. Spent every single full moon in that cage. But she would have been executed all the same. People started questioning the whole law that requires a werewolf to be killed on sight. So the Valoise couldn¡¯t think of anything better to do than to ban the whole circus from performing in Loegrion for five years. They let them travel through the rest of the Empire, though.¡±


    ¡°What happened to them?¡± Isaac asked.


    Greg smiled grimly. ¡°They came back, after five years. There¡¯d been some really bad attacks in the meantime, whole villages getting destroyed by packs of werewolves, and, well, the little girl wasn¡¯t quite as young anymore, you know? Nine, ten years old now, and still cute, and all that. But... There was this young man, a priest of Mithras, a real fanatic. He saw the show, and he didn¡¯t think it was cute, not at all. He set fire to the cage, and half the circus in the process.


    ¡°Now, some say, she died in that fire, but the one who set it, the fanatic? He was convinced that she made it out. He became a hunter, just so he could kill this child who had never hurt anyone in her life.¡±


    ¡°But he never got her?¡± Gavrel asked. He sounded surprisingly hopeful.


    Greg smiled. ¡°No, he never got her. Nobody did. You see, this guy, he hired other hunters, at first. Sent them after her, and when they had no success, he tried himself. People thought he was mad, eventually, because he seemed to be the only one who ever saw her. He swore blind she killed his wife, almost ten years later. The man eventually was mauled to death by a werewolf, and his daughter swears it was her, the Morgulon. The daughter is still hunting her, but even though she¡¯s a much better huntress than her father ever was, she never caught up with her.


    ¡°The Morgulon became this legend ¨C the werewolf who couldn¡¯t be killed, who could smell every trap, escape every hunting company. She became sort of a joke among those hunters who don¡¯t believe in her. You know, somebody loses something, and people go ¡®hey, the Morgulon was here again¡¯.¡±


    He could have told some more of the legends about the Morgulon, but the others seemed to have heard enough. Only Isaac remained seated next to him, fidgeting with his sleeves.


    ¡°I got another question,¡± he said. ¡°But, I mean, ye don¡¯t have to answer, ye know? I was just curious ¨C does yer family even know?¡±


    ¡°That I got bitten? Yes. That I¡¯m still mostly all there? I don¡¯t know. I tried to send a letter from Eoforwic, but I don¡¯t know if the kid I gave it to actually posted it.¡±


    ¡°Ye can try again in Sheaf,¡± Isaac suggested.


    ¡°Like I¡¯ll enter the city,¡± Greg sniffed. ¡°That¡¯s crazy, Isaac.¡±


    ¡°But no one would know ye¡¯re a werewolf, right?¡±


    ¡°Seems a little risky to count on that, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°What do ye think they¡¯ll do, when they find out? Yer family, I mean?¡±


    Greg sighed. ¡°Well, legally, they have to try and kill me, no matter if I¡¯m one of the dangerous ones or not. Which is why I didn¡¯t write anything about where I am or where I¡¯m going.¡±


    The weather was starting to get nice and warm now, which raised the risk of both a forest fire from their protective ditches and thunderstorms. Greg ended up staying at the camp until the day before first night of full moon once again. He was so relieved when he came back to the camp and found everyone alive, he didn¡¯t even mind all the new stares he got. Isaac told him that he had kept the whole gang awake by going past it several times, and howling.


    A week later, they broke through to the environs of Sheaf, farmland mostly. It wasn¡¯t exactly safe, but safe enough that another crew, which had started at Sheaf, had taken care of the work. Eyal called for a feast that night, and declared: ¡°Tomorrow, we will claim our reward.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I won¡¯t,¡± Greg muttered to himself, while everyone around him cheered. He thought he had spoken too softly for anyone to hear him, but Thoko behind him asked: ¡°What do you mean, you won¡¯t?¡±


    Greg jumped. He wasn¡¯t used to people coming this close anymore.


    ¡°Well?¡±


    When she didn¡¯t look away, Greg ran a hand through his hair. ¡°The whole point of me coming here was to get away from human settlements. I¡¯m not walking straight into Sheaf, no way.¡±


    ¡°But ¨C I mean ¨C full moon is just over,¡± Thoko pointed out. ¡°It¡¯ll be safe for everyone.¡±


    ¡°Not for me,¡± Greg gave back. ¡°All it takes is for one member of this crew to get drunk and spill something, and it¡¯s my head on a pole.¡±


    ¡°I thought they¡¯re only allowed to kill werewolves in wolf form,¡± Isaac chimed in.


    ¡°Not if there¡¯s a reliable witness who can attain to the condition of the werewolf in question,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°And since there¡¯s a doctor in Deva they can ask, and, oh, this whole crew¡­ well, they don¡¯t even need to wait for full moon.¡±


    ¡°But nobody here would say anything,¡± Isaac insisted.


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°And you can guarantee that they¡¯ll all stay sober too, and won¡¯t gossip at all about how they were the very first who made it through ten miles of total wilderness, right?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I guess not,¡± Isaac said. ¡°But, I mean, that wouldn¡¯t really count as testimony, would it?¡±


    Greg rubbed his face. ¡°Look, just bring me some fresh food, maybe some candied fruits, okay? Hell, I¡¯ll give you money.¡±


    Thoko and Isaac exchanged a look.


    ¡°Now you¡¯re just being ridiculous,¡± Thoko said. ¡°We¡¯re not taking your money.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°Whatever.¡±


    He got up and walked over to his tent. Could he keep that, or was that too conspicuous? But who would see him here, in the forest?


    Only they weren¡¯t in the forest anymore, not really. There was now a line running right through the trees, all the way from Eoforwic to Sheaf. Greg had to admit, he was a little impressed with the work they had all accomplished in the last months. Twenty-two miles from Eoforwic to Sheaf, and their team had done the hardest part, by far: ten miles of rot-infested forest.


    And Sun, he really, really wanted to go into the town. Sleep a night or two in a real bed, take a hot bath, get some food that wasn¡¯t cooked in one huge pot. And hell, if it were just him alone, he would have gone. But with the whole crew in tow? Thirty-two people, who knew what he was?


    It was just way too dangerous.


    ¡°We could go together,¡± Thoko said behind him. ¡°Actually, we could pretend we aren¡¯t even part of the crew at all ¨C that we¡¯re, I don¡¯t know, running away together, or something. Like that story you first told us. We could leave right now, get there hours before everyone else. Even if someone spills the beans that we had help from a werewolf, nobody would suspect it¡¯s you.¡±


    Greg hesitated. ¡°Why do you want me along so badly?¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t think you want to stay behind. Also, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s right that you stay behind. Plus, we really want you to stay with us until we start work on the line to Mannin. And I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll do that, if it means not leaving the forest at all for the next, oh, two or three years, even for new moon.¡±


    She was probably right about that, he probably didn¡¯t have the patience.


    ¡°All right,¡± he finally said. ¡°But we have to leave right now.¡±


    Thoko grinned. ¡°Okay. Let me just go and tell Eyal, and we¡¯ll be off.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you even had any women¡¯s clothing,¡± Greg noted when they set off.


    ¡°I have to, don¡¯t I?¡± Thoko said. ¡°Can¡¯t go into the city in men¡¯s clothing, can I?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg just said.


    They didn¡¯t speak much for the next few hours until the first hint of pink appeared at the horizon, and Thoko pointed out: ¡°We should probably get our story straight. Just in case.¡±


    So they spent the rest of the way coming up with increasingly unlikely reasons why they were going to Sheaf. Thoko had a great sense of humour and it was a lot of fun, though their eventual ¡°official¡± version was rather boring. Greg hoped that they wouldn¡¯t need to say too much anyway. If he was lucky, then the fact that he was travelling with Thoko should stop the guards at the gate from looking too closely at him.


    It might have worked, possibly, if they hadn¡¯t shown up at the gate so early in the morning, and coming from the wrong direction, too.


    ¡°Oh, this is going to be fun,¡± Greg muttered darkly to himself. Thoko kept glancing at him nervously, something that was really not making them look inconspicuous.


    They each had to surrender their right arm, and then the guards pushed a contraption like a branding iron at their skin, only made of silver.


    They started with Thoko, who of course didn¡¯t flinch and finally stopped staring at Greg. Instead, she gave the guards her sweetest, most serene smile. Greg tried to look as if he was annoyed by the whole procedure because he would never be able to keep up a smile once they started on him.


    It was bloody hard not to flinch and pull his arm away when they turned over to him. His left hand cramped into a fist, and he ground his teeth together as hard as he could, doing his best not to grimace with the pain when the silver touched his skin. He was pretty sure that a hot branding iron would have been less painful.


    There was no way not to flinch.


    ¡°Do you get a lot of werewolves up here?¡± Thoko asked, just as the silver touched him, batting her long black lashes at the guards.


    ¡°Not really,¡± said the first guard.


    ¡°Can¡¯t never be too careful,¡± said the other guard, and poked Greg again, without really looking at him.


    ¡°It must be a scary job, then,¡± Thoko continued. ¡°Protecting the whole town from the Rot and the werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, that¡¯s why there¡¯s a whole garrison of us,¡± said the guard who was still trailing the silver over Greg¡¯s arm. ¡°You should drop by, miss.¡±


    When Thoko actually started giggling he finally let go of Greg¡¯s arm, and didn¡¯t look all that closely at the result.


    ¡°Well, that was fun,¡± Greg muttered, as soon as they were out of earshot.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Thoko wanted to know.


    ¡°Can¡¯t feel my fingers,¡± Greg said and glanced down at them. ¡°And it hurts as if someone held a candle to my arm. But I¡¯ll be fine, yeah, as long as the silver doesn¡¯t pierce my skin. Thanks for keeping them distracted.¡±


    ¡°If they had seen your face they never would have let us go,¡± Thoko replied with a smile. ¡°Now, how about some breakfast? I¡¯m starving.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good. Do we even know how long we¡¯ll be in town?¡±


    ¡°A week, I think¡±, Thoko said.


    ¡°They¡¯re giving us a whole week?¡±


    That earned him a strange look from Thoko.


    ¡°Course,¡± she said. ¡°If they work us to death, their railway will never get built. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Eyal tries to make up for the people we have lost, either. Now that we have proven that it¡¯s possible to survive the forest, that should be easier.¡±


    ¡°Oh joy,¡± Greg sighed.


    They found a public house that did a decent breakfast with bacon, sausages and eggs, and strong tea for a reasonable price. Greg wanted to find himself a hotel afterwards, but Thoko wanted to wait for the rest of the crew. They ended up walking through the small mining town nearly all day. Thoko was hoping for a store that offered colonial goods, to find something she could treat her hair with since she planned to redo her braids while they were in town. Greg could never be bothered to do much with his own curls, and instead just shaved his hair down to stubble regularly.


    It was nicer than Greg had expected, to be with Thoko. Sheaf certainly was not a jewel of a town.


    ¡°Well, there they are,¡± Greg said when they found the place where Eyal, Isaac, and the rest of the crew were already celebrating. ¡°I think I better get going.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Thoko sighed. ¡°Just for a few hours, okay? We don¡¯t bite, I swear.¡±


    ¡°I might,¡± Greg muttered darkly, but Thoko just laughed and dragged him along.


    ¡°There they are!¡± Isaac was already yelling, ¡°Gather round, you two, it¡¯s time for rewards!¡±


    And then he threw a bag at each of them. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind that we already divvied up the spoils.¡±


    Greg was a little bit surprised that they were paying him at all, though he probably shouldn¡¯t have been. It wasn¡¯t bad payment, either, but he could have made the same sum on just a couple of werewolf hunts with a fraction of the effort.


    The party was already starting, and just as he had expected, there was a lot of beer flowing. It didn¡¯t take long for a crowd to gather around the crew of navvies either. Word had already gotten around that it had been them who had done the dangerous stretch through the forest, and people wanted to hear how it had been done.


    Greg stuck it out for a couple of hours, but when he caught the line: ¡°You have no idea what monsters we had to deal with to get it done,¡± he beat a hasty retreat. It was just a matter of time until someone spilled the whole story.


    Sheaf had just one decent hotel, so Greg got himself a room there. If this was his one week of feeling human, then he was going to make the most of it. So he had a hot bath and the softest bed he could get, and then he ordered some more food, just because he could. He had his clothes cleaned overnight, and slept in late the next morning.


    The food at the hotel was pretty good, so he ate lunch there, too, keeping an eye out for the rest of the crew. Apparently, though, they were staying someplace cheaper. Only when he finally left the hotel did he see a familiar face.


    ¡°Fancy meeting you here,¡± Smith greeted him.


    With him were two men in sombre suits, and Smith continued: ¡°This is Greg Feleke, our crew¡¯s werewolf hunter.¡± He winked at Greg, and added: ¡°These two gentlemen are the engineers of the Sheaf side of the operation.¡±


    Greg exchanged handshakes with both of them, and was promptly asked: ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be related to the famous Bram Feleke?¡±


    ¡°My father,¡± Greg replied and felt himself sweating slightly. But it looked like his family had kept everything about him under wraps because the engineer continued:


    ¡°An actual professional hunter. You wouldn¡¯t be interested in jumping ships, by any chance, young man?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sir,¡± Greg said. ¡°But my father does not approve of abandoning a contract before it¡¯s concluded.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± sighed the other man.


    Greg hurried to get away from them but had to admit he was also relieved. He hadn¡¯t expected the matter-of-factness with which Smith had lied to his colleagues. Or maybe not lied, but at least omitted a rather important fact about him.


    Perhaps it was time to find out why Smith had joined this particular crew.


    Greg shrugged to himself and buried his hands in his pockets, ambling down Sheaf high street. The town was fairly small, with a rather quaint centre that certainly predated the invasion of the Valoise. He could pretend that Mr. Higgins was walking by his side, spouting facts and dates and information like leaking ductwork. Greg guessed the town had been fairly wealthy, back before the invasion and the Rot, and even the layer of soot from the new steel mills, which was covering the city, couldn¡¯t quite hide the beauty of the old buildings.


    However, more noticeable than the buildings that were there were those that weren¡¯t. There was, for example, no church of Mithras next to the market place, and the old Loegrian h¨®f that sat where Greg had expected a church had not been destroyed. In fact, it looked like it might even be still in use as a place of worship to the old, native gods, not just a market. Greg couldn¡¯t see an Imperial Magistrate either. When he asked about that, people glared at him with so much hostility that he hurriedly explained that he was with the Lackland Company and only wanted to avoid the Valoisian officials.


    The publican of the inn where he had sat down to have a drink gave him another long look but finally explained: ¡°It¡¯s up at the garrison. They¡¯re scared to come into town, I wager. You aren¡¯t with the crews from town.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Greg said. ¡°I¡¯m with the forest crew.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t look like a navvy.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Greg said and repeated the lie Smith had already used. ¡°I¡¯m their werewolf hunter.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well then.¡±


    Greg had no idea what that meant, but when he went on to ask for a post office, he was given correct directions.


    The small mail station had only the words ¡°Post Office¡± at its wall; somebody must have over-painted the old ¡°Royal¡±, but nobody had bothered to add the word ¡°Imperial.¡±


    The painting of the Roi Solei inside was hung crookedly directly over a single torch. This was a common sort of resistance: The torch was the cheapest kind available, giving up thick, sooty smoke that quickly covered the painting. The Mithrans could hardly complain ¨C fire was sacred, after all.


    Greg spent a half-hour chewing on a pen, and finally put down: ¡°Dear Mother and Father,


    I hope you are all in good health, and I apologize for not writing more often. I will try to do better.


    On positive news, I have found work and managed to avoid the factories. I guess you could call it a kind of cultivation. In any case, it happens at the fresh air, which suits me just fine.


    The less positive aspect of this development is that I do not come into town often, and cannot say when my next letter will reach you.


    I hope David, Andrew, and Nathan are all right. Please give my regards to Gustave. I miss you all.


    Love, Greg.¡±


    It was certainly no feat of literature, but it shouldn¡¯t give too much away either, Greg hoped, so he closed the envelope and paid the fare.


    That done, his plans for the week were pretty much exhausted, and he found himself a little at a loss about what to do next. Sheaf only had one small theatre that doubled as a music hall. Greg considered it, even though he already knew the play currently staged there, but he didn¡¯t much fancy going alone. Beyond this, entertainment in Sheaf seemed to consist mostly of drinking, gambling, and ladies of negotiable affection.


    No wonder the Valoise had little interest in this place.


    Greg shook his head at himself. Sheaf wasn¡¯t the problem. He would have been quite happy to sample the products of the local breweries with David and Andrew, or maybe cheat some unsuspecting folk out of a few coins with Nathan. His older brothers all didn¡¯t care much for the theatre, unless it was comedy, but one of them was usually willing to humour him, and all three of them were happy to go to the music hall, even if they were more interested in seeing some acrobats or jugglers before the main act. His mother Imani was game for anything, from Valoisian sacral music to even the really bawdy amateur plays, and would drag Bram along if he was in town. With Mr. Higgins, he used to watch ancient classic tragedies, and visit exhibitions of the marvels of modern science. Gustave would join any activity that didn¡¯t involve a sermon, but especially loved horses and any sport that involved them.


    Sun, but he missed them all.


    Greg had dinner at a small pub at the border of the new town, where the steel mills stood and the workmen lived and had just decided to return to the hotel and call it an early night when two of the mercenaries sat down opposite from him. Greg was pretty sure that he had never spoken more than three words to them before, and couldn¡¯t remember their names either.


    ¡°Evening,¡± the older one of them greeted.


    ¡°Good evening,¡± Greg said. ¡°Could you tell me your names again?¡±


    The man paused, then smiled wryly. ¡°Randal¡¯s the name. This is Pate.¡± He nodded to his younger companion. ¡°Eyal says you¡¯re gonna go back into the forest with them.¡±


    ¡°Them?¡± Greg asked.


    Randal shrugged. ¡°Our contract was terminated by the company. Not surprising, after the rest of the unit ran and took the convicts with them. We sort of failed completely at this job.¡±


    ¡°So, why are you asking?¡± Greg wanted to know.


    ¡°Eyal asked us to join up as navvies. But I¡¯m not going back in that forest without you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going back, yes.¡±


    ¡°All the way to Mannin?¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± Greg said, shrugging. ¡°Let¡¯s get this line built, and then we¡¯ll see about the long one.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Randal said. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll see you in the forest, then.¡±


    Greg stared after the two of them and ordered another beer. When his glass was empty, he got up and walked deeper into the new town, to where he had last seen the rest of the gang. He found them quickly. Somehow, sitting at one long table with Isaac, Eyal and the rest of their family just made him miss his own even more, but this night, he stayed.


    Greg had no idea how or when he made it back to his hotel room the next morning. What he did have was a splitting headache. But at least he was alone in his room. He vaguely remembered the girls ¨C and some boys ¨C who had descended on the navvies like a group of vultures, as soon as it was clear that they had money in their pockets. The last thing he needed was to drag someone back to his room while drunk, and then possibly turn on them.


    At least the hangover was susceptible to the werewolf healing, and it didn¡¯t take long for the headache to fade away. He ended up back at the new town because he had no idea where else to go. Isaac looked like had only just gotten up when Greg found him.


    ¡°Want to go find some lunch in town?¡± Greg asked.


    Isaac just groaned. ¡°Bite me.¡±


    ¡°Very funny,¡± Greg gave back, ¡°I guess I¡¯ll see whether I can find Thoko then.¡±


    ¡°No, Mr. Touchy,¡± Isaac sighed. ¡°There¡¯s no way ye can tell me this is natural. And if ye are this awake and fit after last night, I think I really wouldn¡¯t mind becoming a werewolf.¡±


    Greg laughed, mostly because he had no idea what else to do with that statement.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s go find Thoko,¡± Isaac sighed.


    Thoko was halfway through the process of braiding her hair up again, something Greg hadn¡¯t thought was possible to do alone. She was scowling at the tiny mirror in her room in concentration and told them not to distract her.


    They still ended up with quite a big group: Isaac, Anshel, Gavrel, Benesh, and Mendel, Pate, Randal, and Dicun, a couple of others whose names Greg couldn¡¯t remember. It was more fun than he had expected. They did end up at the small theatre and music hall, where a group of old men was playing folk songs of the region. His father would have liked it. After the performance, they all returned to the new town for refreshments, which, unsurprisingly, consisted mostly of beer. Thoko joined them for dinner, bathing in the compliments for her artful new braids.


    Greg was more careful tonight. After the crew had somehow managed not to spill the beans yet, it would have been rather embarrassing if he was the one who got drunk and couldn¡¯t keep his mouth shut. There were, of course, hundreds of rumours floating around. Especially Dicun and Pate had a lot of fun in telling a new story to every single person who asked them about the journey, coming up with increasingly dazzling tales of their own heroic exploits.


    Greg was a little amazed when he realized that the less gullible fellows within the audience believed that they had simply been lucky. He sat at the corner of their table and was mostly watching and listening, and sometimes struggling not to laugh at the tall tales Dicun came up with. As far as all the strangers knew, he was the resident werewolf hunter of the crew.


    It took him a while to realize that he was being watched, too, from one of the corners of the room. There was a man sitting there, in even more threadbare clothing than the other labourers, nursing a single pint of beer all evening, from the round Dicun had stood everyone in the room. Whenever Greg looked over there, the guy seemed to be engrossed in his glass, but from the corner of his eyes, he could see that the man was staring daggers at him.


    He got so unnerved that eventually, he asked one of the locals: ¡°Do you know that guy over there?¡±


    ¡°Him?¡± said the worker. ¡°That¡¯s old Porter. Can¡¯t tell you much about him. Lives just outside town, he says, never has any cash on him. Does odd jobs around here for food or some copper pennies.¡±


    Greg looked over to the guy again, who was now getting up rather hurriedly. ¡°How long has he been around?¡±


    ¡°Couple of years now, I guess. Since they pulled up the new city, I reckon.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Greg said and dropped a silver coin onto the counter. ¡°Keep the change,¡± he added and pushed through the crowd after the old man. He made it to the door just in time to see Porter run around a corner, surprisingly spry.


    Greg took off after him and hoped that he was right about the guy. Otherwise, he would probably feel pretty damn stupid once he caught up with him. If he caught up with him. The old man could certainly haul.


    Luckily, though, Porter was stopped a couple of streets later. Apparently, he had stumbled into a group of workmen who had taken their drinks outside one of the pubs and were very much not amused.


    Greg walked up to the group and tried to find the leader, or at least the most pissed off guy in the group.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he said to the blond man who was almost foaming at the mouth. ¡°He¡¯s with me. Here, get yourself a new round.¡±


    He flicked two silvers at them and grabbed Porter¡¯s arm. The clinking of the coins distracted the strangers long enough that he could drag the old man away, despite the way he struggled. Porter went so far as to snap after his fingers.


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Greg said. ¡°Bite me. I think you¡¯ll be surprised by the result.¡±


    That did stop Porter from struggling. For a moment they stood in an alley filled with shadows, staring at each other.


    Then Porter seemed to realize: ¡°You aren¡¯t even armed.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Greg said. ¡°And I¡¯m not here to hurt you, either.¡±


    Porter freed his arm with a yank. He muttered darkly to himself, and eventually asked: ¡°How did you know?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know until you ran,¡± Greg said. ¡°I¡¯d never even have noticed you if you hadn¡¯t stared at me like the devil incarnate.¡±


    ¡°Well, they say you¡¯re a hunter.¡±


    ¡°Sort of,¡± Greg said. He was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. Would the gang be okay with a second werewolf on the team?


    ¡°How can you be sort of a hunter?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t hunt to kill,¡± Greg said. ¡°I want to bring you to my boss, alive.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You can fight the Rot, can¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡±


    Greg sighed. ¡°You¡¯ve heard that they want to build a railway? All the way from Eoforwic to Mannin?¡±


    ¡°And then they go and say us werewolves are mad,¡± Porter grunted. ¡°That¡¯s insane.¡±


    ¡°But if it works, there could be some gold in it for you,¡± Greg said. ¡°All you got to do is hire up with the right gang of navvies. Protect them from the Rot, and they¡¯ll keep you fed. Pay you, too.¡±


    Porter huffed. ¡°Try the other one, it¡¯s got bells on it.¡±


    Greg sighed, gripped his arm again, and dragged him out onto a bigger street, which had streetlamps on it.


    ¡°Look here,¡± he said, and held out his palm for Porter to see, then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver and closed his hand around it for a second. Porter tried to retreat when Greg opened his hand again, but stopped when he put the coin away and held out his hand.


    ¡°What,¡± was all Porter managed.


    ¡°So, you interested in meeting the boss?¡± Greg said, and rubbed his hand, to get some warmth back into it. ¡°I¡¯ll stand you another pint.¡±


    ¡°Food, too. Hell, I won¡¯t promise anything, but I got to see this man who thinks it¡¯s a great idea to have a werewolf on crew.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Greg sighed.


    Of course, now he had to find out where Eyal had gone to, and hope that he was sober enough to hear him out.


    Luckily, though, the gang hadn¡¯t moved, and Eyal was still sitting next to Gavrel, listening to and shaking his head at Dicun, who by now was standing on top of the long table. When Greg waved at him, he got up and came over.


    ¡°Is there maybe a quiet corner where we can talk?¡± Greg asked. ¡°I¡¯d like to introduce you to my ¨C colleague here, Mr. Porter.¡±


    ¡°Never mind the Mr.¡± Porter chimed in. ¡°I¡¯m just Porter.¡±


    Eyal eyed the old man with interest, but no hesitation, as far as Greg could tell.


    ¡°Just Porter then,¡± he said. ¡°Interested in joining the railway, Porter?¡±


    ¡°Dunno.¡± Porter looked around at the crew again, fidgeting a little. ¡°But if you wanna give me the spiel, I¡¯ll listen. This young fellow here promised me a beer and some food.¡±


    So the three of them sat down in a corner of the large taproom, and Eyal explained to Porter the job and its rewards again. Greg wasn¡¯t sure how much the old man even listened. He seemed pretty fixated on the plate and glass in front of him.


    When Eyal finished, Porter let his gaze trail through the room again. ¡°Do you need an answer right now?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Eyal said. ¡°We¡¯ll be moving out at the end of the week, but if you want to think about it longer than that, you¡¯re welcome to come find our camp at any time.¡±


    ¡°And what are you going to tell the company?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe in bothering the bosses with the itty-bitty details of day to day operations.¡±


    Porter huffed. ¡°Be careful,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Rumour is, the duke doesn¡¯t like werewolves very much.¡±


    ¡°Who does?¡± Greg muttered to himself.


    Porter looked at him again and ran a hand through his dirty, matted hair. Greg guessed that it had been brown once, but there was so much grey in it now that it was hard to tell. Probably a natural effect of age though. Other werewolves¡¯ eyes changed, right after their first full moon, and often their hair took on the colour of their wolf coat, too. Greg ran a self-conscious hand through his own curly black hair. He had cut it down to stubble at the hotel the first night in town. He¡¯d been bloody lucky that his physical appearance hadn¡¯t changed at all. Porter¡¯s obviously hadn¡¯t, either. Was that a sign of a sane werewolf, that their appearance didn¡¯t change permanently?


    ¡°Think he¡¯ll do it?¡± Eyal asked once Porter had left.


    ¡°Not sure,¡± Greg said. ¡°I just ¨C well, when he ran from me, and I realized what he is, I just thought you should meet him.¡±


    Eyal nodded thoughtfully. ¡°You¡¯re right, I think. However, now you¡¯ve been the one who spilled the secret.¡±


    ¡°Who is he going to tell?¡± Greg gave back. ¡°The guards? He might as well cut his own throat. And after all the work Dicun has done here, no one is even going to believe him anyway.¡±


    ¡°Fair point,¡± Eyal said.


    Greg didn¡¯t see anything of Porter again, even though it was nearly new moon, and they were as safe as two werewolves inside a city were likely to get. Therefore, Greg wasn¡¯t surprised when they moved back out without the old man. Their new job was to build a bed for the tracks, which meant hours and hours of digging to even the ground, either by filling in holes or shoring up embankments, all to create a firm substrate for the tracks to go on. Suddenly, Smith the engineer, was everywhere on site, taking measurements, giving directions, and often picking up a shovel himself, to show them how something was done.


    The work was still backbreakingly hard, and wasn¡¯t made easier by the fact that Eyal had decided against taking on new people in Sheaf.


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep it in the family for now,¡± he explained.


    A family, which now consisted of everyone who had stuck it out with them, not just Eyal¡¯s actual relatives. Each one of them had proven their ability to keep their mouth shut, and Greg felt safe in their company. They apparently did too, because they didn¡¯t even mind that Greg was starting to practice his transformations just out of sight. He was slowly getting better at controlling his shape-shifting. As long as the moon was half or fuller, he no longer needed to hurt himself to become the wolf, and while the moon was just a crescent, he was getting fairly good at becoming human again.


    It was a rather dry and warm summer, so Greg only had to defend the camp from the Rot during one single particularly heavy thunderstorm, before they emerged on the other side of the forest again. Another crew of navvies had already set up a water and coal station right at the edge of the trees. Smith said that the newest steam engines, which the Valoise used, had special compartments to bring their own water. If they had some of those, they wouldn¡¯t need to stop on the way to Sheaf at all.


    Now all that was missing were the actual tracks.

 Chapter 10

    David frowned in concentration. The sun had vanished behind the trees, and the ground was parched with the juin heat. He had nearly lost the trail twice already.


    ¡°We can try again tomorrow,¡± Andrew suggested, who was holding the reins of their horses.


    ¡°No,¡± David grumbled. ¡°Just give me a moment. And don¡¯t move.¡±


    There were other hunters on this trail, and he didn¡¯t like what the farmer had said about this werewolf.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get this guy tonight.¡±


    ¡°And what if it is him?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s not.¡±


    The werewolf they were currently hunting was a mad one, for sure. It had attacked a family inside their home, on half-moon, the typical pattern: some of the crazy ones had this weird urge to spread the curse, breaking into homes and attacking caravans, biting each victim just once, then running away. Mostly right after nightfall, or just before dawn, any day except for the week around new moon.


    It wasn¡¯t Greg.


    They just had to make sure.


    ¡°This is the fourth new moon since he got bitten. Greg could still turn bad,¡± Andrew pointed out. ¡°And the farmer said this one might be dark-skinned in his human form. How many black guys who are also werewolves do you think are there around Sheaf? It¡¯s all white bread out here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not Greg,¡± David repeated.


    ¡°But ¨C¡±


    ¡°But if it is him, you go back to the hotel,¡± David said through gritted teeth. ¡°I¡¯ll ¨C I¡¯ll do what¡¯s necessary.¡±


    Somebody had to.


    Andrew finally fell silent at that, so David could concentrate on finding the bloody trail again. Not literally bloody, thank ¨C


    David took a deep breath. Thanks to nobody. Certainly not to Mithras, who supposedly cursed the first werewolf. Though that curse possibly didn¡¯t create the first werewolf. Some legends claimed human magic had done that, that Mithras had only punished them for their transgression.


    And why was he even thinking about religion now?


    There. A paw print, finally. He was still on the right track.


    ¡°You know,¡± Andrew said, ¡°if you were on my tail, I¡¯d be scared, too.¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± David grumbled, moving faster now that he was sure of the direction.


    The werewolf had curled up stark naked between the roots of a large oak. His skin did look quite dark in the low light, but uneven and greyish. As if he¡¯d rolled around in mud, nothing like the warm dark brown of Greg¡¯s skin.


    ¡°Well, you were right, just for once,¡± Andrew said and didn¡¯t quite manage to hide his relief behind the quip. ¡°Now what? We can¡¯t just cut his throat while he sleeps, can we?¡±


    ¡°He did,¡± David pointed out. ¡°Did it to that family.¡±


    He reached for his crossbow and moved around the tree as silently as he knew how, cursing inwardly. He wouldn¡¯t get a decent target, the way the bastard had wedged himself between the roots. Andrew stayed where he was, also raising his weapon.


    Someone has to do what¡¯s necessary, David reminded himself and fired at the peacefully sleeping body. The first silver bolt hit the stomach, and the mad bastard started turning at once.


    David had been waiting for that, and his second shot hit right in the eye, as soon as the transformation was complete. The werewolf went down.


    ¡°I hate this,¡± Andrew sighed, when David cut its throat, just to be sure.


    ¡°You could have stayed in Sheaf,¡± David gave back. ¡°To keep an eye on Dad.¡±


    He didn¡¯t feel brave, or glamorous, or good, either, after shooting an unarmed, sleeping creature. But if they had waited, there would only have been more victims. These kinds of spreaders never stopped until they were put down permanently.


    ¡°Someone needs to keep an eye on you, too,¡± Andrew said.


    David laughed grimly. ¡°What, you gonna protect me now, little brother?¡±


    ¡°From the werewolves? No. But maybe from yourself. It wasn¡¯t your fault, David.¡±


    ¡°Like hell it wasn¡¯t,¡± David muttered, and gazed up into the tree, looking for a straight branch he could hack off to tie the dead body to.


    ¡°He is seventeen,¡± Andrew sighed. ¡°He was older than the rest of us, and he knew the danger.¡±


    ¡°No, he didn¡¯t,¡± David growled. ¡°He thought he did, but he had no clue. And he didn¡¯t have a clue, because we lied to him. We made it sound easy, and grand, and honourable, and we laughed at our near-misses. We never told him about shooting sleeping people in the back, did we? We told him over and over that I killed my first werewolf on my own when I was fourteen, but we forgot to mention how messed up those hunts were, how often I nearly died, and how desperate we were to scrape together the money to pay for a healer for Mum. In Greg¡¯s head, Dad thought I was ready, and that he wanted me out there. Greg saw it as punishment to be left behind, as a lack of trust.¡±


    David took a deep breath. ¡°If we had been more honest, if we had told him that half the time we are little more than well-paid executioners, do you think he would have been so eager?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Andrew admitted. ¡°But that¡¯s on all of us. Not just you.¡±


    ¡°More on me,¡± David sighed. ¡°I could have stopped it. I could have talked Dad out of letting Greg go. But I didn¡¯t. I knew he wasn¡¯t ready, not for that hunt, and I still didn¡¯t say anything.¡±


    ¡°We all had doubts,¡± Andrew sighed. ¡°We all just told ourselves that it would be okay, that we had prepared him well.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s the point,¡± David growled. ¡°You can¡¯t prepare somebody for something like this! The whole family, starting with great-grandfather Feleke, created this idea that there were tactics and procedures, and if a hunter stuck to them, he¡¯d be safe. And that¡¯s bullshit! Nobody on a battlefield is ever safe, and that¡¯s what the forest was that night.¡±


    ¡°Nathan and I were fine.¡±


    ¡°Yes, because I was standing right behind you for your first half dozen hunts! I all but held your hands back then! You and Nathan had a safety net! Greg didn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t have, with the way the formation was set up. I should have seen that. Because I had to learn without, too. And I did, I did see it. I just kept my fucking mouth shut because I didn¡¯t want another damn argument!¡±


    He patted the nose of his gelding absentmindedly. ¡°You¡¯d be dead, Andrew, if I hadn¡¯t stood by your side. Nathan would have gotten bitten at least three times. And Greg ¨C well, he¡¯s not Nathan. He¡¯ll never have his woodsmanship. Or your marksmanship.¡±


    ¡°Flatterer,¡± Andrew huffed. ¡°See that branch up there? I¡¯ll give you a lift.¡±


    David pulled a small hatched out of the saddlebag, and Andrew folded his hands, hoisting him up into the oak tree.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he grunted, while David climbed on.


    ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just Mum who was sick that year,¡± Andrew replied. ¡°Even Dad went down with it. That¡¯s the real reason he let you go alone, isn¡¯t it? Because he was too sick to stop you.¡±


    ¡°We needed the money.¡±


    David paused, trying to fight down the memory of his mother, hallucinating with the fever, covered in a rash, and barely able to breathe. Imani wouldn¡¯t have made it without magic, neither would have Greg, little four years old Greg. And Nathan had been in a bad state, too. The doctors had been at their wits¡¯ ends, and the healers had been charging an arm and a leg in the middle of the epidemic. If it hadn¡¯t been for their high birth, they wouldn¡¯t have been able to find a healer at all.


    So he had taken up his father¡¯s crossbow, yes, and gone alone, and nearly died, and gone out again. He had survived by sheer luck and an innate talent that had little to do with all the training Bram and him had gone through.


    His father had it, too. Andrew didn¡¯t. Nathan did, but it was nearly offset by Nathan¡¯s recklessness.


    Greg didn¡¯t have it.


    Experience could replace talent, but you first had to live long enough to gain that experience. Like Andrew, who was now keeping a watchful eye at the surroundings, crossbow held ready.


    Maybe they should have taken Greg earlier, not later. Then David could have stood behind him, as he had with Andrew and Nathan... Maybe, if they had crushed his illusions about the job a little harder, Greg would be on his way to university now, or parliament, or even the Imperial court of the Roi Solei at Rambouillet.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± Andrew ripped him from his dark thoughts. ¡°I can almost hear you beat yourself up. Get that branch down and we¡¯ll get the carcass back to the village. And then I suggest a visit to the pub.¡±


    David didn¡¯t say anything but started hacking off the branch they had chosen. He didn¡¯t want to get drunk, he wanted to find Greg and take him to Courtenay before their father lost it and ran to the forests further west, where he would certainly die a pointless death.


    Greg¡¯s last letter had spoken of some kind of cultivation, whatever that was supposed to mean. It had come from Sheaf, at the arse-end of nowhere, so that was where they had followed, even though no cultivation happened out here. Even rye barely grew on the stony fields, so all Sheaf had was mines, a navigable river, and factories. And Greg had written explicitly that he had avoided the latter.


    Soon, Sheaf would also have a railway station.


    Did that count as cultivation?


    But Andrew had spent several nights mingling with the navvies who worked from the city, and nobody knew of a werewolf. All they had spoken of was a witch from the south. Dark-skinned, possibly, a woman, certainly. That was the one thing all the rumours agreed on: the crew that did the dangerous bit in the middle of the forest had a woman amongst the workers, and somehow she had protected them from the Rot.


    Nathan was waiting for them when they returned to the hotel in Sheaf, pockets jingling with the silver from the last kill.


    ¡°He sent another letter!¡±, he called. ¡°Eoforwic again.¡±


    Their father was already packing.


    ¡°When was it sent?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Almost three weeks,¡± Nathan said.


    ¡°Damn,¡± David muttered. ¡°Even if we find a trail, it¡¯ll be stone cold.¡±


    ¡°Not the point,¡± Andrew said, and also started to stuff clothes into bags.


    ¡°Really? What is the point?¡± David asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s been to Eoforwic at least twice,¡± Bram replied. ¡°Even if he isn¡¯t in the city when we get there, chances are that he¡¯ll be back again at some point.¡±


    There was a smile on their father¡¯s face, a new energy to his movements. New hope.


    ¡°We could follow the path they hacked for the railway,¡± Andrew suggested. ¡°That¡¯s half the distance the coach road takes.¡±


    However, when they got ready to leave, it was raining cats and dogs, and it was too dangerous to go through the forest. Neither of them wanted to wait it out, so they did take the long way instead.


    The crew was supposed to get another week of leave in Eoforwic, but as soon as they got there, Eyal had a long discussion with the heads of the company. They wanted one of the crews from Sheaf, where they had already started with the track-laying, to just keep going through the forest, to save the time it would take Eyal¡¯s men to return to the work-site. Eyal pointed out that it would take them three days at the very most to get to Sheaf¡¯s side of the forest, and that they had the contract for this stretch. The company insisted that if they wanted to keep the contract, they had to be at the trailhead by the end of the week, so their leave was cut short.


    Greg only spent one day in town to post another letter, because full moon was once again just around the corner, and he needed to get out of the city. The rest of the group followed a couple of days later, taking the trail they had prepared, while Greg took a nice, long detour as far north as he could. When he came back to his senses after the third night, big clouds were moving in, so he hurried onwards to find Eyal''s crew right away, despite the weariness in his bones. He caught up to them just a couple of hours before the gang reached the construction site.


    The crew from Sheaf had put down rails right up to the edge of the forest but had then retreated half a mile away from the trees again. All the workmen were staring up into the darkening sky with expressions of worry on their faces.


    When Eyal''s gang arrived at the trailhead, Smith was hugged by the engineer of the waiting crew.


    ¡°You have no idea how glad I am to see you, mate,¡± said the man. ¡°I was not looking forward to going in there on my own. Especially not with those clouds.¡±


    He nodded towards the looming trees.


    ¡°Fear not, Adrien,¡± Smith said, grinning. ¡°The cavalry is here.¡±


    ¡°You know, there are some seriously crazy rumours out there about you guys?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah? What¡¯s your favourite one?¡±


    Adrien smiled wryly. ¡°My favourite one? The one where the Rot doesn¡¯t attack anyone working for the Lackland Company, and you¡¯re just hogging this contract cause it pays better. The one I¡¯ll actually believe? The one I¡¯ll believe is the one where you have a witch on your team, from some southern Valoisian colony.¡±


    Greg saw Thoko hurriedly pull the cap lower over her face, just as Adrien added: ¡°If you do, don¡¯t tell me, though. I want to know nothing about any unsanctioned magic.¡±


    Greg shuddered. Unsanctioned magic. That probably was more believable than a sane werewolf protecting everybody.


    ¡°And I¡¯m going to squeeze my eyes shut every night as soon as I¡¯m in my tent.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re coming with us?¡± Smith asked, a little alarmed.


    ¡°They all are,¡± Eyal said darkly. ¡°Or at least everybody who wants to work with the Lackland Company in the future.¡±


    ¡°They paid us yesterday, so I wouldn¡¯t hope for too many people,¡± Adrien chimed in.


    ¡°Great,¡± Greg muttered.¡±What a nice surprise.¡±


    Isaac shrugged. ¡°Nothing Eyal can do about that. The bosses are getting impatient. Reckon we were too successful. They no longer believe that it¡¯s actually as dangerous as it is.¡± He raised his voice. ¡°None of them ever had a Rot-creature breathing down their necks.¡±


    People of the other crew looked at each other uneasily, but still, there seemed to be at least a hundred of them. Even if only half of them joined up¡­


    Some of them were already sidling over to Eyal¡¯s men.


    ¡°You got to have a way of dealing with the Rot by now, don¡¯t you?¡± someone asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Isaac muttered to Greg. ¡°We discussed all this on the way. They don¡¯t need to know how it¡¯s done, just that we can do it.¡±


    ¡°I bet that¡¯s really going to be put their minds at ease,¡± Greg muttered.


    Yet to his surprise, almost sixty workers from the other crew were willing to risk it, despite the little reassurance Eyal¡¯s men were willing to give. From the sound of it, the company had raised the wages again for anyone brave enough to take on the forest.


    As soon as they had reached the forest¡¯s edge and were ready to get to work, one of the towering rain clouds burst right above them. So Eyal ordered them all to march to the closest of their old campsites to prepare it for the larger group right away.


    Despite his claims that he didn¡¯t want to know the details, Adrien asked: ¡°So that¡¯s all you do. Fire dams. No chanting, no ritual¡­¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Smith said, grinning. ¡°Just the fire dams.¡±


    And Greg, who was getting ready to leave the camp as soon as he felt like nobody was watching.


    ¡°The rest you really don¡¯t want to know about,¡± Smith added.


    Greg slipped out unnoticed by all the new people, as far as he could tell, and began to look for a place to hunker down. Tonight would be a tricky night. It was still very close to full moon, but with all the new people the camp was way too big for him to defend with just a bunch of torches. So he did his best to relax, to calm his nerves, and focus himself. That way at least the human part of his mind would be ready. There was very little he could do to influence the wolf, but he did feel that it was a lot easier to control its instincts when he wasn¡¯t confused or in a panic even before the transformation.


    Greg thought he had hidden himself well from the camp, so it wasn¡¯t helpful in his endeavour to calm himself, when Isaac suddenly stood behind him.


    ¡°What the hell, Isaac,¡± Greg hissed. ¡°What are you doing out here? It¡¯s almost dark already!¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Aw, ye worried about me?¡±


    When Greg just glared at him, Isaac added: ¡°I just wanted to let ye know that Eyal assigned all the fire watches to our people. Everyone else is to stay inside their tents and stay out of the way. So, ye know, ye don¡¯t have to worry so much about being seen.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Greg said. ¡°But you need to go back now.¡±


    Isaac gave him a mocking salute, before turning back towards camp. Greg leaned around the tree he was hiding behind and watched him all the way until he vanished through the small gap in the flames which the guard had left for him.


    Greg started taking off his clothes as soon as he was gone, took a few more deep breaths, and then found the tightrope in his mind, let himself fall into his other body.


    He could smell the Rot right away, and it didn¡¯t take long for the stench to get so thick that the humans had to smell it too. When he could hear the first misshapen things move in the darkness, Greg left his hiding place to start his patrol around the camp.


    It was a real shame that Porter hadn¡¯t taken their offer. With the bigger camp, he really could have used a second pair of eyes to look out, and a second set of teeth to rip the bloody creatures apart.


    A soft cheer went up inside the camp when he tore one of the bigger monsters to shreds right next to the fire dam, which had nearly eroded with the rain. The guard had pushed logs into the earth, but that didn¡¯t work too well either. What they needed were grilles, lifted off the ground, that would hold the wood but let the rain run through. Or even better, something with a roof. He would have to talk to Eyal about that, if they really wanted to go all the way to Mannin.


    He ran around the camp to make sure everything was all right on the other side and had to destroy two more of the smaller Rot creatures. The bloody things were getting pretty brazen this night, crawling almost up to the fires. Greg wished he knew more about them. Did the Rot have an awareness? Did it realize that soon this forest would be cut in half, that the power of fire would propel humans right through its territory, and that there was nothing it could do to stop them? Could it fathom that one day, all its hiding places might be burned out that way? Was it scared to die?


    Or was it just a ¨C a thing? A thing that felt no pain, no hunger, no hate or love, no ¨C no nothing?


    But if it felt nothing, why did it even move? What incentive did it have, if it could not hate or hunger, to kill so many? Why did it defend itself, if it did not fear and knew no pain?


    There had to be something it wanted?


    Or was all that destruction just a memory of the purpose, the intent of the original spells whose residue had created the Rot? What sort of after-effect did a healing spell leave behind?


    But it couldn¡¯t be that simple, could it? Magic was famously unpredictable, everybody knew that.


    Just like everybody knew that the Rot was indestructible by anything but magic and alchemy, and werewolves were good for nothing monsters?


    Greg shook his head and the rain out of his fur and continued his rounds. It didn¡¯t really matter, either way.


    At least the nights were still shorter than the days. The clouds had thinned sometime during the night, so the Rot retreated as soon as the first light of dawn turned the forest to gold. Greg returned to the place where he had left his clothes, found them soaking wet, and decided to stay wolf a little longer. He curled up in the shadows of a thick brush, hopefully out of sight from the camp. He managed maybe an hour of sleep before Isaac woke him up.


    ¡°I brought you some dry clothes,¡± he said when Greg growled at him in annoyance. ¡°Figured you might want to have breakfast with us.¡±


    Greg groaned again, but that offer was hard to refuse.


    ¡°You can sleep some more later,¡± Isaac said. ¡°We got plenty of bodies now to get the work done.¡±


    Greg managed to return to his human shape within a few minutes, probably a new best this side of half-moon, and put on the clothes Isaac had brought. He was just closing the laces of his one and only pair of work boots ¨C wet and cold and stiff ¨C when the rest of the camp seemed to wake up. From the sound of it, one of the new workers had found the pieces of the Rot-creatures Greg had destroyed during the night.


    Isaac grinned from ear to ear at their excited shouting, and even Greg couldn¡¯t stop himself from smiling. He hadn¡¯t realized how many of the bloody things there had been.


    Smith came over to them. ¡°Busy night, huh?¡± he asked, voice lowered.


    Greg just yawned.


    ¡°Right,¡± Smith said, grinning.


    Before Greg could say anything at all, Adrien came walking in their direction with long strides.


    ¡°Just the fire dams?¡± he yelled. ¡°Just the fire dams? No fire dam did that!¡±


    He pointed at the remains of the biggest creature Greg had fought last night.


    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t want to know the details,¡± Smith said mildly.


    The other engineer looked around, kicking the twisted form of what had probably once been a wild boar, and finally shook himself. ¡°Just ¨C just tell me that this isn¡¯t going to come bite us all in the arse.¡±


    ¡°The less you know, the less likely it is that this will come back to haunt you,¡± Smith said. ¡°And I promise: There is no danger of any magic misfiring.¡±


    Adrien shook himself again. ¡°This is seriously scary,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Well, then let¡¯s get to work,¡± Smith gave back. ¡°The faster we get past the next ten miles the better.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Adrien muttered. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Breakfast first,¡± Isaac added.


    So they all returned to camp. The new workers were sitting together in small groups, muttering excitedly. But so far, Greg couldn¡¯t see anyone who was packing.


    Isaac brought him a double portion of yesterday¡¯s dinner with freshly baked bread, which Greg wolfed down. Food couldn¡¯t substitute sleep for long, but at least for the moment, he did feel a little better.


    ¡°You look like crap,¡± Isaac noted. ¡°Get out of here and go back to sleep.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think Eyal will mind?¡±


    Instead of an answer, Isaac waved his uncle over, and said: ¡°Tell him to go back to sleep, please.¡±


    Eyal looked at Greg, shook his head, and said: ¡°Go back to sleep, Greg. We might need you again tonight.¡±


    So Greg left the camp again and found himself a spot that would get a little bit of sunshine, out of sight from the workers. The dog days of summer were upon them and it was already getting quite warm. Greg turned into a wolf again and went to sleep within seconds. When he woke up, it was just in time for lunch. He was amazed to see how far the work had progressed already. He watched the whole crew working together like a well-oiled machine, putting down the floaters first, then the iron rails on top, and then came a second group of men tasked with fixing everything in place with huge bolts and spikes and nails. Every hammer strike fell in sync with the others, and Greg wasn¡¯t surprised to hear people singing in the same rhythm as the blows.


    They wouldn¡¯t manage eight miles a day like the Valoise supposedly did, but it was still impressive.


    They managed a little less than half a mile a day and missed three days because they didn¡¯t get their supply of iron rails from Sheaf when they were supposed to, which meant that they didn¡¯t quite finish before full moon came around again.


    Three days before full moon, it started to rain, not strongly, just an annoying drizzle, barely more than fog often, that just would not stop. Eyal and Smith pushed the men to go as fast as they could and cursed the time they had wasted fiddling their thumps while they had to wait for the iron rails, but there was nothing to be done about that. It was still raining the morning before the first full moon night, with just a little over a mile to go to the edge of the trees.


    Greg stared up into the clouds and had no idea what to do. He didn¡¯t have to transform tonight, not if he kept his calm, but there was no way he could keep the whole camp safe as a human, just with torches. And if he did turn, he very much doubted that he could keep his friends safe from himself.


    ¡°Just stay until lunch,¡± Eyal said as if he had read his mind.


    ¡°And what about you guys?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep pushing the line until then,¡± Eyal said. ¡°And then we¡¯ll march out of the forest, make camp in one of the purged fields, at least a mile away from the trees. Even with the rain, we should be fine. The company¡¯s going to moan about it, but if they had sent us those rails on time, we wouldn¡¯t even be in this situation.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°And all the new people on the crew? It¡¯s going to be a little suspicious, with the first night of full moon, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Eyal said. ¡°We¡¯ll just tell them that our protections are weakening and that we don¡¯t want to take any risks this close to the end. Everybody knows that magic is capricious.¡±


    Greg huffed a laugh. ¡°Thoko is going to love that.¡±


    Eyal grimaced. ¡°Has to be done. If anyone accuses her of unsanctioned magic once the job is done, we can still give you a head start and then tell the truth. Though I don¡¯t think they will. Nobody likes the Valoise around here.¡±


    Greg hoped he was right. He had no better idea, though, so he did just what Eyal had told him too.


    Did the other workers notice when he was gone? His dark brown skin wasn¡¯t exactly inconspicuous among all the other pale faces. Or was the group large enough that people simply assumed that they had missed him? Or had Eyal told them, too, that he was their werewolf hunter?


    Hurrying back right after full moon was beginning to feel routine by now. Nosson, who had taken over cooking duties full time, now that the camp had gotten this large, had even kept some lunch warm for him. Greg ate it hidden on the supply cart, while all around, the workers were milling about. Morale was high; they had already moved the trailhead out of the forest. Now they were pushing to get as far away from the trees as possible, with even more reinforcements from the crew that had prepared the ground between the forest and Eoforwic.


    Nosson was in a particularly good mood, telling Greg about how they¡¯d be done in time for his people¡¯s new year and the high holidays. He had extra food for Greg, too, so Greg watched the work from his hiding place for a while, eating and listening to Nosson describing all the festivities he was looking forward to.


    Greg wouldn¡¯t be needed for the rest of the job. There were only a few small copses of trees left to pass through, and those were all supposed to be safe. After a while, he dozed off.


    When he woke up again because Nosson was shaking him, night was already falling, and the supply cart had moved to the new camp. Greg wondered how he had slept through that.


    Isaac and Thoko were waiting for him at one of the fires. People all around were celebrating as if the job was already finished. Thoko handed Greg a plate with a piece of freshly grilled meat that had come from the whole pig that was being roasted over the biggest fire. Isaac wouldn¡¯t touch it. The lamb stew Nosson had prepared was great as well, though, so it probably wasn¡¯t much of a loss. There was plenty of beer, too, and as a result, work started late the next day.


    They still made it to Eoforwic just one week behind schedule, which was a small miracle as Smith said. When they reached the new railway station and a symbolic final spike was hammered into the earth, there was a huge crowd cheering them on. There were a lot of journalists and even several artists who no doubt had been commissioned to produce pictures of the event.


    Greg probably should have expected this, but he was still surprised when he and the rest of Eyal¡¯s gang were pushed to the front. Duke George Louis made it a point to thank all workers, while the mayor of Sheaf made a long speech to thank especially the ¡°heroes¡± who had braved the forest and the Rot to connect his city to Eoforwic and thus the rest of Loegrion.


    When the big speeches were finally over, there was a feast for all the workers in the great hall of the new central station, which was still under construction. For the rest of the city, a holiday had been declared as well. Greg, Thoko, and Isaac were just about to leave the station to have a closer look at the festive decorations of the new city, when Gavrel stopped them.


    ¡°Here you are. The duke wants to talk to us,¡± he said excitedly. ¡°About the land grant.¡±


    ¡°What, right now?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Yeah, right now,¡± Gavrel said. ¡°The other crews aren¡¯t supposed to know, are they?¡±


    That was news to Greg, but Thoko and Isaac were already following Gavrel to the big building with the mural of King Lackland.


    They seemed to be among the last who were ushered into a generously appointed office, big enough that all thirty-two of them fit inside without stepping on each other¡¯s toes, and without crowding up against the huge desk behind which Duke George Louis was already waiting.


    ¡°Is that everybody, Mr. Levi?¡± the duke asked Eyal.


    ¡°That should be everybody, yes, your Highness,¡± Eyal said.


    At those words, the doors closed behind them with an ominous sound.


    ¡°Very well,¡± the duke said. He looked around the room. ¡°You have all been promised high rewards, and in return, you promised to advance the line from Eoforwic to Mannin right through the forest. You promised that you would need no sorcery to do so, no ritual, no magic at all. Just vigilance, discipline, and a lot of firewood.¡±


    The duke paused. ¡°Now, you have certainly done what you said you would do, and allowed us to connect Sheaf to Eoforwic. But after talking to several of the men who worked with you the last weeks, I have some serious doubts that vigilance, discipline, and a lot of firewood was really all it took to defeat the Rot. Mr. Adrien Melvin testified that several mornings he found pieces of destroyed Rot creatures right outside the camp, and he even brought some of them back with him. So. Before I¡¯m willing to talk about land and money, I want to know: How did you do it?¡±


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± Eyal started, then paused again and glanced over to Greg. ¡°Your Highness, there was no magic involved.¡±


    ¡°So you want to tell me that these creatures, of which I saw pieces, simply ¨C fell apart?¡±


    ¡°No, Your Highness. But we did not use magic, unsanctioned or otherwise.¡± He took a deep breath and added: ¡°We might have ¨C bent ¨C certain other Valoisian laws, though.¡±


    Greg held his breath, just like probably everyone else inside the office. For a second, there was no sound at all audible.


    ¡°I see,¡± the duke finally said. ¡°In that case, it is probably a lucky thing that I am no Valoisian magistrate, and do not necessarily feel obligated to report to them.¡±


    Eyal hesitated again, and finally said: ¡°Your Highness, I also might have lied to you when I said that our whole butty gang is assembled here.¡±


    ¡°I might forgive you even for that. Provided you finally tell me what I want to know.¡±


    ¡°We have another comrade, Your Highness. He couldn¡¯t enter the city, well, because he¡¯s a werewolf.¡±


    This time it was the duke who was obviously lost for words. ¡°You must be joking, man,¡± he finally said. ¡°How would that even help you?¡±


    ¡°It was John who destroyed the Rot creatures of which you saw pieces,¡± Eyal continued. ¡°While he was transformed. That¡¯s why we had to leave the forest when it wouldn¡¯t stop raining on full moon. Because he couldn¡¯t protect the camp those three nights.¡±


    ¡°You told the other workers that your protection was weakened.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, Your Highness. They would have run off if they had known that they were working with a werewolf all along. John works just like everyone else when it¡¯s not raining. The Rot has no effect at all on a werewolf, not even when he looks human. So he could defend us all.¡±


    ¡°You put your life ¨C you all put your lives knowingly into the hands of a werewolf? Of a creature that at best can be described as unstable, as raving mad at worst. And you all agreed with this?¡±


    ¡°At first, only my family knew,¡± Eyal said.


    ¡°But yes,¡± Dicun chimed in. ¡°We all knew about John after the first time it rained. We¡¯ve known about him for months ¨C we¡¯ve worked with him for months. And he isn¡¯t unstable at all.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s as sane as the next man, Your Highness,¡± Smith confirmed. ¡°We all worked with him for more than a week and never would have guessed.¡±


    ¡°What about full moon?¡± the duke asked, looking a little pale.


    ¡°Well, as Mr. Levi said,¡± Smith went on, ¡°he couldn¡¯t protect the camp at full moon. He¡¯s a werewolf after all. But really, that¡¯s just one night each month.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Levi just said it was three.¡±


    ¡°That was only because the camp was getting too big.¡±


    The duke glared at Eyal. ¡°Explain.¡±


    Eyal sighed. ¡°Your Highness, a sane werewolf like John only has to transform one night each month. If they can keep their head together, they can just stay human the first and the third night of full moon, and he defended the camp with torches against the Rot. But that only works in a fairly small camp, cause killing a Rot creature with a torch is really tricky. Mostly they just scuttle out of the way and come back as soon as his back is turned. And if he does transform on one of the nights of full moon, it¡¯s ¨C well, then he¡¯s a werewolf on full moon night, if you catch my meaning, Your Highness. The rest of the month, even when he looks like a wolf, he¡¯s really not. He¡¯s still himself. We talked to him, and he would nod or shake his head to say yes or no. My nephew Isaac here got so good at interpreting his mimics, he had whole conversations with him.¡±


    ¡°There are other werewolves like him,¡± Isaac said when the duke glared at him. ¡°He ¨C John found one, right in Sheaf. All the locals knew him, and he wasn¡¯t any different from the other day labourers. We tried to convince him to join up, but he was scared that once the work was done he would be executed.¡±


    ¡°Your Highness, the Valoise have to know about this,¡± Greg chimed in. ¡°That has to be the reason why the Roi Solei is willing to pay a fixed rate for every dead werewolf, even for a werewolf killed in a town like Sheaf, which doesn¡¯t even have a temple of Mithras. They want us to eradicate werewolves in our own country because if we do, we will never be rid of the Rot. And as long as the Rot is there, people will flock to their temples to beg Mithras for protection.¡±


    ¡°And what is your expertise in Valoisian politics, young man?¡±


    ¡°My father is Abraham Feleke of Courtenay,¡± Greg said. ¡°I know everything about politics as they pertain to werewolves.¡±


    The duke didn¡¯t say anything for a very long time but didn¡¯t turn his eyes away from Greg either.


    People in the small crowd were beginning to whisper amongst themselves when the duke finally said: ¡°I want to meet this sane werewolf. As a wolf. I will see whether your claims of conversing with the monster are true. Tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow is the first day of new moon,¡± Greg pointed out, before he could stop himself.


    ¡°Fine then. You have a week to produce this sane monster. Half-moon. At the new water station at the forest edge. At sundown.¡±


    Greg held his breath. Eyal looked at him, then back at the duke. ¡°Certainly, Your Highness. However, we have to insist that you come alone. Greg here, our own werewolf hunter, will be present, and ensuring your safety. Any more people and John will probably stay hidden in the forest.¡±


    The duke stared at Greg again for an uncomfortably long time, and finally said: ¡°I think I can extend a little trust if there is a Feleke present.¡±


    Greg felt himself breathe a little easier at that promise, but he still followed all the others, who hurried to get out of the room as soon as the door was opened again for them.


    ¡°Well, that was fun,¡± Isaac muttered when they were back in the street, which was lit with so many torches tonight that people felt safe to walk about, despite the fact that the walls surrounding the new city were still only about waist-high.


    ¡°I need a drink now,¡± Smith said. ¡°Anyone else coming?¡±


    It was the first time, as far as Greg knew, that the engineer wanted to go drinking with the workers, and there were plenty of takers. Greg hesitated, though, and sidled up to Eyal.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he muttered.


    Eyal gave him a strained smile. ¡°Thank me after half-moon is over.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s got to see reason, though?¡± Isaac piped in.


    ¡°We can only hope,¡± Eyal sighed. ¡°But at least you won¡¯t need to hide until then.¡±


    They followed Smith and his group over to the old city, which was lit up as brightly as the new industrial districts. Tonight, any navvy of the Lackland Company could drink for free in any pub in town, and their crew especially. Dicun and Pate decided to take advantage, to test whether ¡°the whole magical mystical werewolf-healing-thingy¡± worked for Greg even with new moon coming up.


    ¡°If you¡¯re as hungover as the rest of us tomorrow, we¡¯ll know what to expect of the Rot if it ever rains on new moon,¡± Dicun explained the experiment.


    ¡°The kid is only seventeen, Dicun,¡± Randal pointed out. ¡°He¡¯ll never be as hungover as such old farts like you and me.¡±


    Greg felt plenty hungover when he woke up the next day. He couldn¡¯t even remember where he had ended up crashing last night, or morning, more likely. He was pretty sure that the sun had been coming up.


    ¡°Well, you didn¡¯t throw up,¡± a voice said behind him. ¡°I¡¯m taking that as a good sign for the trip to Mannin.¡±


    It took him forever to realize that it was Thoko talking. She kneeled down next to him and offered him a very dented tin cup. ¡°Want some water?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± he groaned and pushed himself into a sitting position to accept the cup.


    He had slept on the floor of a room that seemed to serve as kitchen, workroom, and bedroom at once. There was a stove on one wall, a table covered in a sewing kit underneath the single tiny, grimy window on a second, and a single narrow bed along the third. The fourth wall had the door, which Greg guessed led outside of the tiny flat.


    The water Thoko had given him was still warm, so Greg guessed she had boiled it first, although there seemed to be no tea. When she noticed him looking around, she sat down somewhat awkwardly on the bed and avoided his eyes.


    ¡°Home, sweet home,¡± she said, still without looking at him.


    Greg rubbed his face. ¡°When did we get here? And what time is it?¡±


    ¡°We got here about the time mother left for the factory,¡± Thoko said. ¡°And it¡¯s past noon.¡± She paused and added: ¡°There¡¯s a privy outside.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Greg muttered and followed her directions.


    By the time he returned from the outhouse, he had at least collected himself a little and could pretend like this tiny flat which Thoko seemed to share with her mother when she was in town, or the derelict, stinking privy belonging to it, were completely normal for him.


    He still really wanted to have a bath after he had used it.


    Thoko was obviously just as eager to get him out of the flat as he was to leave, because she awaited him in the door, asking: ¡°How about we go find some food?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Greg said. ¡°I could eat.¡±


    ¡°Where did everyone else go?¡± Greg asked when they were down on the street. Thoko lived in a back alley in the old town of Eoforwic, inside a rundown terrace.


    ¡°Eyal, Isaac and their family went home,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Isaac said something about a New Year¡¯s celebration tomorrow and prayers that need to be said before that. I have no idea where Smith and the others ended up. I guess they found lodgings in the city if they don¡¯t live here anyway.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to find a room somewhere, too. And thank you for letting me crash at your place.¡±


    Thoko didn¡¯t quite look at him, but he could see her smiling anyway. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± she wanted to know.


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Like a horse kicked me in the head.¡±


    Speaking of horses. Greg froze. Right across the street, there was what looked like the backyard of a large hotel, where half a dozen mounts were drinking from a trough. And one of them was Dolly.


    Greg blinked and looked again, just to be sure that he wasn¡¯t just seeing things as an after-effect of yesterday¡¯s excesses, but there was no mistaking the gorgeous little mare.


    ¡°What is it, Greg?¡± Thoko wanted to know.


    ¡°That¡¯s my brother¡¯s horse over there,¡± Greg said, still staring. He needed to move, to get out of here, but his feet wouldn¡¯t budge. Andrew was here, in Eoforwic.


    Why? Who else was here?


    He couldn¡¯t see his father¡¯s stallion, or Nathan¡¯s and David¡¯s horses, but that didn¡¯t have to mean much. While he was still watching, a young boy in a servant¡¯s livery took Dolly by the halter and led her away, so they might have already been taken inside the hotel¡¯s stables.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to go,¡± Greg muttered, and finally started walking again, trying to orient himself while he did.


    He needed to find the nearest gate, get himself out of the city. Just his luck that he would run into his family on new moon. Hiding in the forest as a human wouldn¡¯t be much fun. Thoko followed him silently as he rounded the corner of the hotel onto the high street until she was suddenly tugging at his arms.


    ¡°Look!¡± she hissed, but it was already too late. Greg had been so focused on finding out where the hell he was that he hadn¡¯t noticed the four dark-skinned men who had just left the hotel. His brothers and father hadn¡¯t missed him.


    Greg lengthened his strides and started running, but he had never, not once in his life, outrun Nathan, and in the heavy work boots he was still wearing he barely managed more than a jog anyway.


    ¡°Greg!¡± he could hear his brother calling. ¡°Come on, man, this is ridiculous.¡±


    The next moment, he could feel Nathan¡¯s hands on his shoulders, grabbing him. ¡°Seriously, Greg, we¡¯re right inside the city, what do you think we¡¯re going to do to you?¡±


    Like anyone inside the city would stop them from doing whatever they wanted, if they just shouted: ¡°He¡¯s a werewolf¡± first.


    But he let himself be turned around, and was surprised when Nathan cuffed him around the ears.


    ¡°You bastard,¡± his brother railed at him. ¡°You nearly broke mother¡¯s heart! What, did you seriously think we¡¯d come after you with silver? That we¡¯d take you down like a rabid dog?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve done it to plenty of others like me,¡± Greg said defensively.


    Nathan punched him half-heartedly into the chest. ¡°You arsehole,¡± he growled. ¡°I should shoot you just for that, you know that?¡±


    And then he hugged Greg, as if he wanted to break every single one of his ribs. ¡°Don¡¯t ever run away like that, you bloody idiot.¡±


    When he let go of Greg again, there were tears in his eyes, and Andrew, David, and his father had reached them. Andrew looked like he wanted to continue where Nathan had left off, but David warned: ¡°Let¡¯s get off the street first.¡±


    His eyes were fixed on Thoko, so Greg hurriedly said: ¡°This is Thoko. She knows.¡±


    David relaxed only marginally, and Greg couldn¡¯t help but wonder if his oldest brother was worried for him, or about him.


    ¡°Where are you staying?¡± his father asked.


    ¡°Nowhere, yet,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Right,¡± his father said. ¡°The Mills Hotel it is, then.¡±

 Chapter 11

    Greg allowed himself to be escorted over to the hotel¡¯s entrance without resistance. Thoko tagged along, eyeing his brothers curiously, just as they were obviously eying her, probably wondering why she knew about Greg¡¯s condition.


    His family had booked a suite large enough to accommodate all of them comfortably, two bedrooms and a sort of salon. As soon as the door closed behind them, Andrew, Nathan, and David were upon him, hugging, and yelling, and cursing, and explaining in every detail what an idiot he had been.


    Eventually, their father interrupted them: ¡°I think that¡¯s enough, for the moment. You worked on the railway, Greg?¡±


    Greg finally sank down into one of the big armchairs and let his head fall back.


    ¡°How do you know?¡± he asked, trying to gauge his father¡¯s reaction. Bram wasn¡¯t usually this distant. He hadn¡¯t even taken a seat and stayed over at the other side of the room.


    ¡°Your first letter came from Eoforwic,¡± his father pointed out, ¡°your second one from Sheaf. Then another one from Eoforwic. Also, you wrote that you had found work doing a kind of ¡®cultivation¡¯. Plus, we¡¯ve been back in Eoforwic for nearly a month again now, and couldn¡¯t find a trace of you. But a day after the line is finished and all the navvies flock into town, we run into you? Wasn¡¯t exactly hard to figure out.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been looking for me for a whole month?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly,¡± Andrew scoffed. ¡°We¡¯ve been looking for you since the day you left. We came back here after your third letter made us realize that you hadn¡¯t made for the highlands after all. Cause when you wrote to us from Sheaf, that was our first worry, that you were going to leave civilization behind completely.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s her role in all this?¡± David wanted to know, nodding towards Thoko.


    ¡°She¡¯s a co-worker,¡± Greg sighed, ¡°and a friend,¡± and began to explain how he had joined the railway crew in the hopes of doing just what Andrew had described and making for the wilderness of the mountains. How instead, he had ended up saving them from the Rot.


    His father raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise when he talked about that, but no one said anything, until he was almost finished with his story and told them about the meeting Duke George Louis had demanded.


    ¡°You can¡¯t do that,¡± David interrupted him at this point. ¡°You can¡¯t go and meet him again.¡±


    Greg blinked in confusion. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t trust that man, Greg. No matter what he promised, he¡¯s not going to come alone. He¡¯ll have a small battalion of men with him, or a band of werewolf hunters at the very least.¡±


    ¡°I thought he¡¯s supposed to be smart,¡± Greg pointed out.


    ¡°And absolutely ruthless,¡± David grumbled. ¡°And as power-mad as any Valoise you could meet.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well. But if he wants to be king, he needs me alive.¡±


    There was a long, long silence while his family thought about that. Eventually, Bram said: ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on him to be quite that smart. We¡¯ve run into Lane deLande just recently, here in the city, and there¡¯s a rumour that the duke owns her, too. And if he brings her along, it doesn¡¯t matter whether or not he sees your point, she¡¯ll just shoot you on sight.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve still got to go,¡± Greg said. ¡°I owe it to everyone else.¡±


    ¡°Then let us come as well,¡± Bram said.


    ¡°What if the Church finds out?¡± Greg asked. ¡°That you saw a werewolf and let it live?¡±


    His father laughed harshly. ¡°You let me worry about that,¡± he said. And then he just walked out.


    Greg flinched when the door slammed shut behind him and got up.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Give him some time.¡±


    Greg wasn¡¯t even sure if he had really meant to go after his father, or rather just get out of here, and he remained swaying in place. Andrew seemed to misunderstand because he continued: ¡°It wasn¡¯t fun for any of us, to realize that you seriously thought we¡¯d ¨C we¡¯d kill you. But I reckon it¡¯s different, for a father. Brothers always want to kill each other a little bit. But to find out that your own son is so scared of you he won¡¯t even tell you what¡¯s going on¡­ Well, that had to hurt.¡±


    ¡°Especially since you told ibn Sina of all people,¡± David grumbled.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell ibn Sina anything,¡± Greg defended himself. ¡°He was the one who figured it out. I had no idea what was going on until he told me that my leg was healing way too fast and that I had to consider the possibility I had been bitten.¡±


    ¡°How did that even happen?¡± Nathan asked, curious. ¡°You got no scars or anything visible. And we checked, like, a dozen times, when we brought you back on that cart.¡±


    Greg raised his right hand, showed them the back of it. ¡°I didn¡¯t really get bitten,¡± he explained. ¡°You remember how the werewolf grabbed my overcoat, right in front of my face? And the fabric didn¡¯t tear like it was supposed to?¡±


    Nathan nodded slowly.


    ¡°When I started slashing at the fabric with my knife, I must have scratched up against its teeth.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s bloody unlucky,¡± Andrew muttered. ¡°Still, no reason to run away like that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why you¡¯re all so surprised that he did,¡± Thoko said softly. ¡°From what Greg told us, you must have killed hundreds of werewolves between the four of you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but he¡¯s our brother,¡± Nathan said.


    ¡°And we don¡¯t go after the sane ones, either,¡± David said. ¡°Not if we know that they are sane, in any case. Not sure if Dad is going back on the job at all, either.¡±


    ¡°Dad stopped hunting?¡± Greg asked, a little shocked.


    David nodded. ¡°The contract the bishop made us take was the last one for him. We were only gone for a few days. When we came back¡­¡±


    ¡°You should have seen Mum,¡± Andrew went on. ¡°She was just so ¨C so lost with you gone. Ibn Sina didn¡¯t show up to tell her that all her worst nightmares had come true until the first day of full moon, and afterwards, she cried for, like, a week.¡±


    ¡°Actually, we promised to write as soon as we find you,¡± David said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get to it,¡± Nathan chimed in, and began to rummage around for paper and ink.


    ¡°And you did nothing but look for me for the last six months?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Andrew said. ¡°When you didn¡¯t come back that first night, I went into town to ask after you, found out you had taken the coach. So David and Nathan left again the same day they returned from the bishop, to see if they could catch up with you.¡±


    ¡°Since that first letter you sent, Andrew, Nathan, and I have been taking all the contracts around here we came across,¡± David took over again. ¡°In case somebody put a bounty on you, but I don¡¯t think Dad even touched his crossbow since we got the news. He¡¯s been searching the travelling fairs, the soup kitchens, places like that. He must have visited every farm and village in a fifty miles radius of Eoforwic and Sheaf to ask whether you had passed through. By the time your second letter from Eoforwic came, he was making plans to go up into the mountains.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s suicide,¡± Greg huffed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he still cared,¡± David said darkly.


    ¡°What did you do with all the werewolves you hunted down?¡± Thoko butted in.


    David shrugged. ¡°That depends on the werewolf,¡± he said. ¡°We tracked them down, and then waited till we could talk to them. Not that they had much to say to us. We let them go, if we felt they wouldn¡¯t be dangerous to the people here. Most of them were howling mad though, tried to bite us even in their human form, and all that. People out here don¡¯t usually like dealing with the authorities, so if they put up a bounty in the first place, they generally have good reason to do so.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why father came out to talk to them alone,¡± Andrew continued. ¡°Not as a hunter, just as a concerned father looking for his son. To see if anybody had noticed a werewolf they didn¡¯t report.¡±


    ¡°So ¨C those werewolves you didn¡¯t kill, could you find them again?¡± Thoko asked.


    ¡°Why ever would we want to do that?¡± David replied.


    ¡°Just curious,¡± Thoko said with a thoughtful expression.


    ¡°Right,¡± Andrew huffed. ¡°Some of them we can probably find. But what would you want with them?¡±


    ¡°Offer them a job,¡± Thoko said.


    ¡°You want to offer them a job,¡± Andrew repeated.


    ¡°Well, Eyal would have to make the actual offer, I guess,¡± Thoko shrugged. ¡°But if we could find one or two more sane werewolves, we could triple the size of the gang, get much more work done much quicker. Maybe even start another gang, I guess Gavrel would be ready to take on his own crew. We could get all of Loegrion connected by the railway, not just the heartlands, within a few years if we just had enough werewolves to protect the workers.¡±


    Andrew and David exchanged a glance, then shrugged at the same moment.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re getting ahead of yourself there,¡± David said. ¡°Let¡¯s wait how the meeting on half-moon goes before we plan to put any more people in danger.¡±


    ¡°Why do you dislike the duke so much?¡± Thoko asked, sounding frustrated. ¡°You don¡¯t even know him.¡±


    ¡°I do, actually,¡± David said. ¡°And I knew some of the people he destroyed to gain power. Make no mistake: George Louis is just as likely to oppose the Valoise as he is to turn somebody over to the Inquisition.¡±


    Thoko opened her mouth as if to say something, but hesitated. ¡°You know the duke,¡± she finally said. ¡°Like, personally? How?¡±


    David smiled wryly. ¡°Oh, Greg didn¡¯t mention? Father¡¯s a Baron. And George Louis is only a couple of years older than I. When we grew up, your dear duke was only a count. He may have convinced the Roi Solei to appoint him to the highest rank a noble can attain, but I can still remember what he looked like after I knocked him out of the saddle at the jousting.¡±


    Thoko just stared at David for a long, long time. ¡°You knocked George Louis out of the saddle at a tournament,¡± she finally managed, before she turned on Greg: ¡°You really could have mentioned this!¡±


    Greg frowned. ¡°I must have been, like, five or something when he did that. I don¡¯t really remember it.¡±


    ¡°Not that!¡± Thoko almost yelled. ¡°The whole part where your family is noble, and stuff.¡±


    ¡°Why would I say anything about that?¡± Greg asked, a little confused. ¡°There¡¯s no way I¡¯m setting myself up for more of Isaac¡¯s jokes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure he would be joking like that if he knew you actually are a ¨C a ¨C what¡¯s your title, then?¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t have a title. Baron isn¡¯t that high a noble rank.¡±


    ¡°Really,¡± Thoko said, clearly not believing a word of what he had said.


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± David said, for some reason smiling faintly. ¡°Count is the first rank of nobility in which the oldest son automatically gains a title too, Viscount. Though each of the four of us would be addressed in court as ¡®the Honourable ¨C whatever ¨C Feleke¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± Thoko said, who clearly had difficulties wrapping her head around this.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that big a deal,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°Especially now. It makes no difference who you were before you were bitten. Werewolves don¡¯t get titles. Unless you count ¡®monster¡¯.¡±


    That made them all shut up, to Greg¡¯s relief. Most days, he felt like he had accepted his new life, but he still didn¡¯t like talking about what could have been. He might have sneered when his mother suggested that he should enter parliament, but now he would give a lot just to have the option.


    Before any of them could find a new topic to talk about, his father returned, which just made the silence even more awkward, until Nathan jumped to his feet and asked brightly: ¡°Who wants to go to the post office?¡± Waving an envelope, he added for their father: ¡°I¡¯ve written a note for Mum.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Andrew agreed.


    David nodded and looked at Thoko, who said: ¡°I need to get going anyway.¡±


    Ten seconds later, Greg was alone with his father. He stared after them, even though the door was already closed, just to avoid the piercing gaze of Bram¡¯s dark eyes. His father still kept his distance.


    ¡°Look, Dad,¡± Greg started, ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±


    But Bram stopped him with a raised hand. ¡°I¡¯m the one who needs to apologize here, Gregory,¡± his father sighed. ¡°I should never have allowed you to take Andrew¡¯s place, not on a job that dangerous. And I¡¯m even more sorry that you felt you couldn¡¯t tell me what had happened right away.¡±


    ¡°I had no idea what had happened.¡± Greg slumped back into his chair. ¡°I never noticed it happening. The doctor was the one who figured it out because my leg was healing so fast.¡±


    His father raised his eyebrows at that. ¡°I have to admit,¡± he said, ¡°in all my years have I never heard that someone didn¡¯t even notice when a werewolf bit them.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t really get bitten,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°Hell, I bet the werewolf never noticed anything either.¡±


    He explained again how he had injured his knuckles at the werewolf¡¯s teeth. When he was finished, his father kept shaking his head, clearly lost for words.


    ¡°Will you come home?¡± Bram asked finally, sounding almost desperately hopeful.


    The question surprised Greg.


    ¡°I can¡¯t, father,¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t come back to Deva. People around here may be more scared of the Rot than a werewolf, but if anyone in Deva figures out what happened, we¡¯re all dead. That¡¯s why I left, father, and didn¡¯t say anything. Because ¨C yeah, I was scared of how you all would react. But even if you wouldn¡¯t come after me, then telling you would make you all complicit.¡±


    ¡°What about the country house?¡± his father asked.


    Greg ran both hands through his hair. ¡°I ¨C I don¡¯t want to ¨C This isn¡¯t just about the werewolf thing anymore. I ¨C we started something here, father, and I want to ¨C I need to see where it goes. What the duke will say, and how far we can push the line. I promised to protect these people. I can¡¯t just walk away now.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Then, please,¡± Bram said, ¡°let us help. Let us be there. Let us protect you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t ¨C if you¡¯re all there, father, and things go bad ¨C where can I ¨C we ¨C go then?¡±


    His father smiled faintly. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out, together,¡± he said. ¡°Just promise me that you won¡¯t run away like that again.¡±


    Greg nodded silently. He had to swallow hard before he managed to say: ¡°I promise.¡±


    At that point, Bram finally closed the distance he had kept the whole time and opened his arms, but still hesitated, as if to gauge Greg¡¯s reaction, before finally hugging him like he never wanted to let go again.


    Greg lowered his head onto his father¡¯s shoulder and closed his eyes. He¡¯d been taller than him for a couple of years now, but still, there was nothing that made him feel as safe and protected as his father¡¯s unwavering presence. The tears that were streaming down Bram¡¯s face freely now didn¡¯t change that.


    ¡°I¡¯m just so glad we found you,¡± his father said eventually, and let go of Greg, finally taking a seat. He ran a hand over his face. ¡°Tell me more about these people you work with?¡± he asked when Greg sat down as well. ¡°You said this girl, Thoko, was one of them? I didn¡¯t realize there were women working as navvies.¡±


    ¡°Thoko is the only one, I think,¡± Greg said. ¡°Her father was convicted in the big witchcraft trial last year. She says she joined the railway so she could bury him properly because the Duke promised land to everyone who dares to work in the forests.¡±


    His father frowned. ¡°That¡¯s a long time to wait with a burial. What is she doing in the meantime?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to ask.¡±


    ¡°And the rest of them?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Eyal is our gangmaster and crew leader. He¡¯s, like, almost seven feet tall. If he grabs your hand, you know the only reason your fingers remain unbroken is that he¡¯s going gentle on you. But he doesn¡¯t usually rely on force. I think you¡¯d like him.¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°At the beginning, the core of the crew was made up of Eyal¡¯s butty gang. Fifteen of his closest relatives and twelve strangers he took on board, including me. Then there were a bunch of convicts, a dozen mercenaries to keep those in line, and Smith, our engineer.¡±


    ¡°What convicts?¡± his father wanted to know.


    ¡°The duke was worried that the work would take too long if it was only Eyal¡¯s butty gang, cause all in all he only managed to get twenty-eight people together who were willing to take on the Rot. So he offered a bunch of convicts a choice between the rope and the forest. They all ran away after they found out I¡¯m a werewolf, and most of the mercenaries went with them. Pate, Randal and Dicun stayed, and hired up as navvies in Sheaf.¡±


    ¡°Twenty-eight,¡± his father said. ¡°That¡¯s actually pretty impressive.¡±


    ¡°We totalled thirty-two, when we walked into Sheaf if you include Smith, our engineer. He was hired by the company.¡±


    ¡°Still, the duke must offer enormous sums.¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°The money isn¡¯t bad, but it¡¯s the land they¡¯re really after. A farm for each of them, north of Mannin.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t even very good farming country. And they would need to purge it somehow.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s land where the Church never goes,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°I think that¡¯s the main reason.¡±


    His father frowned. ¡°All of them? I mean, Thoko I understand, but what about the others?¡±


    ¡°Eyal and his family are Wayfarers. They don¡¯t even pay lip service to Mithras. I don¡¯t really know everyone else¡¯s reason, but a few of them I can guess. Like, Dicun and Randal I reckon are a couple.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± his father said softly. ¡°The duke is collecting those who the Church has turned into outcasts.¡±


    ¡°Do you think he will keep his word?¡±


    ¡°Hard to say,¡± his father said. ¡°We¡¯ll know a little more after half-moon, but Duke George Louis is hard to predict.¡±


    Greg nodded and rubbed his temples. The headache was mostly gone, but he was still tired.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡± his father asked.


    ¡°Tired,¡± Greg said. ¡°There was a big celebration last night. And I haven¡¯t eaten anything yet today.¡±


    ¡°We saw some of those celebrations,¡± his father said and smiled faintly. ¡°Just tired, huh?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°I had a headache when I woke up, but that¡¯s almost gone now.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s order some food then,¡± his father said. ¡°You brothers should be back soon.¡±


    By the time Nathan, Andrew, and David returned, Greg was soaking in hot water. Nathan threw some of his own clothes over the back of a chair for him, so Greg wouldn¡¯t have to walk around in his worn-out work gear.


    He couldn¡¯t help but wonder what Isaac would say if he could see him now, wearing linen shirts and trousers made from fine wool, a vest made from silk. Greg shuddered a little when he saw the amount of clothes his brothers had brought to Eoforwic. They all usually travelled light, but apparently, they had prepared to stay in the city for months.


    When Greg left the bathroom, David had parted his crossbow from his knapsack, a deep frown on his face.


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± David said, ¡°you brought this, but no tools to take care of it?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Greg said.


    David clicked his tongue disapprovingly and promptly began to clean the weapon. Just a few months ago, Greg would have been pissed off by that unspoken criticism of his abilities, but now it just made him smile.


    When night fell, they ended up celebrating at the hotel bar, which was much more extensively stocked than the pubs he had visited with the crew in recent months, and Greg had some fun trying different drinks.


    ¡°You¡¯ll regret that tomorrow,¡± Andrew warned him ¡°Mixing drinks like that.¡±


    ¡°A few hours, maybe,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°And only cause tonight there¡¯s no moon. When the moon is nearly full, just getting drunk can take some effort.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever tried eating or drinking something that would be poisonous?¡± Nathan wanted to know.


    ¡°Only your cooking, and that was before,¡± Greg gave back, which earned him a punch into the shoulder and finally put a smile even on David¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯d probably still be miserable for hours,¡± he added. ¡°And really, what¡¯s the point?¡±


    ¡°They say a werewolf can heal any injury not caused by silver or fire by simply changing shape,¡± Nathan said, lowering his voice. ¡°Have you ever tried that?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t work,¡± Greg said. ¡°Or rather, it doesn¡¯t work with injuries caused by the Rot.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± muttered Andrew. ¡°But about that hangover ¨C aren¡¯t you supposed to be, like, normal tonight?¡±


    ¡°Easier to kill, yes,¡± Greg said. ¡°Normal, not exactly.¡± He shrugged. ¡°You know how they say that you can cut a werewolf¡¯s throat with steel, and any night but new moon, he¡¯ll survive? Well, I bet people only ever tried that with sleeping werewolves in their human form. And as soon as they started cutting, the werewolf would transform, possibly healing the cut, but most certainly making it impossible to follow through. Except for new moon, of course.¡±


    ¡°But you still heal faster,¡± Nathan concluded.


    ¡°A little faster, yeah. Nothing like around full moon.¡±


    Nathan and Andrew had dozens of questions, while David just listened intently. He kept watching their surroundings like a hawk, and sometimes he would place a hand on Nathan¡¯s, Andrew¡¯s, or Greg¡¯s arm, to stop them from saying something, when he felt a stranger was passing too closely. That, too, was endlessly familiar, and Greg slowly felt himself relax. He hadn¡¯t even realized just how much he had missed this, Nathan and Andrew mock arguing, and David watching, always watching all of their backs. Their father would normally join in the banter, but tonight he just sat there, smiling silently.


    ¡°What do we do next?¡± David asked Bram, as soon as they had poured the others into their beds, all three of them grinning even in their sleep. ¡°About the duke?¡±


    His father, too, had a contented smile on his face as he looked over his younger sons, finally all together again. David hated to worry him, but they needed to talk about the situation. He knew George Louis, intimately, and he hated the thought of Greg meeting him alone.


    ¡°Greg agreed to let us be there when you left to post the letter,¡± Bram said quietly. ¡°I suggest we scout out the meeting place tomorrow, so there won¡¯t be any unwelcome surprises.¡±


    ¡°Should we talk to his crew, too?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re Wayfarers,¡± his father said. ¡°They have as much reason to stay away from the Mithrans as Greg. Also, they have kept the secret for quite a while now. And Greg calls them his friends, so we need to step carefully there. He¡¯s loyal to them. From what it sounds like, they are loyal to him, too.¡±


    David nodded silently.


    ¡°What do you think the duke will do?¡± Bram asked. ¡°You know him best.¡±


    Even better than his father knew.


    ¡°Hard to say,¡± David sighed. ¡°He won¡¯t show up to that meeting alone, that¡¯s for sure. And I don¡¯t think he ever came face to face with a werewolf before, so I wouldn¡¯t be too sure that he knows what he will do once he does. I guess if he doesn¡¯t panic, he¡¯ll demand some sort of proof of Greg¡¯s ability to fight the Rot. And of his sanity, of course. If Greg passes those tests, whatever form they may take... well, then Greg is right, isn¡¯t he? Werewolves could be the answer to a lot of problems Loegrion faces. George Louis will no doubt try to take advantage of that.¡±


    His father nodded slowly and rubbed his beard. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you,¡± he said after a moment, ¡°but I feel like there is another shoe about to drop.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± David agreed. ¡°He¡¯s too ¨C too normal, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s completely the same!¡± Bram whispered. ¡°Like ¨C I don¡¯t know. Like he didn¡¯t get bitten at all!¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t, strictly speaking,¡± David said. ¡°Did he tell you about that?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and he showed me his knuckles, but that¡¯s not the point. Werewolf teeth injured him, it doesn¡¯t matter how small the injury was. People don¡¯t get half cursed.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because of new moon.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I think,¡± his father agreed. ¡°That we¡¯ll see more changes in him as the moon waxes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it,¡± David said. ¡°I¡¯m sure Mum will be relieved, too.¡±


    ¡°Of course she will be. Though she won¡¯t be happy about the hold-up.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t force him to come with us, though.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± his father agreed. ¡°And if necessary, Imani can come to Eoforwic. See for herself that he¡¯s all right.¡±


    David took a deep breath. ¡°It¡¯s certain though, right? That he will stay sane?¡±


    His father nodded slowly. ¡°He was bitten in F¨¦vrier, it¡¯s Septembre now. That¡¯s eight full moons. Have you ever heard of a werewolf changing that late?¡±


    They both had not, of course. Four full moons, yes, rarely. But never later than that.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine,¡± his father sighed, smiling again.


    ¡°He will be,¡± David agreed. But after all the worry of the past months, it was hard to convince himself.


    It was another late morning when Greg woke up. His brothers had insisted that he took one of the beds, and David had ended up sleeping in one of the chairs. They were all up already, Greg could hear Andrew laughing and Nathan complain about something.


    ¡°Sleeping beauty is awake,¡± David informed them when Greg sat up. ¡°There¡¯s breakfast left over, if you want.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Greg yawned and came shuffling over. ¡°Where¡¯s Dad?¡±


    ¡°Sending another letter to Mum,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t feel mine was adequate,¡± Nathan chimed in.


    Andrew rolled his eyes. ¡°Dear Mum,


    ¡°we found him! He looks alright,


    ¡°cheers, Nathan?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°Should I have written how the werewolf-thing doesn¡¯t affect him at all, maybe mark the whole thing somehow for the Inquisition?¡±


    ¡°You still could have provided a little more details,¡± Andrew pointed out.


    ¡°You could have written it yourself.¡±


    ¡°You volunteered!¡±


    David rolled his eyes but didn¡¯t say anything until Greg had finished breakfast.


    ¡°Do you have plans for today, Greg?¡± he eventually asked.


    ¡°Not really. Why?¡±


    ¡°Dad wants to check out that watering station you mentioned. And I figure we should check exactly when the new trains will be running past there, just in case.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Take Dolly,¡± Andrew offered. ¡°I¡¯ll stay here, hold the fort down.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Greg said. ¡°Though I¡¯m not sure Dolly¡¯ll be fine with that. Animals somehow always seem to know.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± Andrew said.


    By the time their father had returned, they were ready to go. Andrew was coming down to the stables with them, to help soothe Dolly, if necessary.


    When Greg stepped through the stable doors, it wasn¡¯t Dolly who panicked. It was all the horses at once. There were at least a couple of dozen animals inside the hotel stables, and each and every single one of them rose, screaming rather than neighing, and did their best to kick their way out of their boxes.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll wait outside,¡± Greg yelled over the noise.


    He walked outside and braced himself for Dolly¡¯s reaction. But when Andrew led the mare over to him, she just pranced a little. When Greg hesitantly reached out to pat her nose, she snorted but didn¡¯t shy away.


    ¡°This should work,¡± Andrew decided, and let Greg hold her while he found the completely flabbergasted stable hands, to get Dolly¡¯s saddle.


    Soon, they were passing the gate out of Eoforwic, past empty fields. The harvest was over, and winter was approaching fast. Greg rubbed his hands together. It was certainly getting cold.


    The watering station was fully fortified by now, ready to defend itself against the Rot, which would not be deterred by the weak sun of the short winter days, even if it did shine. When they reached the station, a train was just coming out of the forest. It stopped, and a pipe was lowered from inside the walls to pour water into an opening on the locomotive. Nobody had to set a foot outside for the transaction.


    David watched silently. Once the train had sped away towards Eoforwic, he prompted his gelding to move along the tracks into the shadows beneath the trees. Their father crossed the tracks, and then also followed them into the forest. They didn¡¯t need a single word, not even a nod or glance to communicate. Greg had no idea what they were looking for, but he followed David anyway.


    Nathan moved over and followed Bram, who soon started moving away from the tracks, searching the underbrush. When David did the same, Greg gave up.


    ¡°What are you even looking for?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Hiding places,¡± David explained.


    ¡°For a werewolf?¡±


    ¡°No, Greg, for a hunter, or a bunch of soldiers. An ambush. Some way for George Louis to make a mess of this.¡±


    ¡°You really can¡¯t stand him, huh?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s a nice enough guy,¡± David shrugged. ¡°But I¡¯ve seen him murder too many people, just because they were in his way, or he thought that they were in his way, and I¡¯ll be damned if I let you become one of them.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°What about me?¡±


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you a more likely person for him to target if he hears you talk like this?¡±


    David laughed about that. ¡°He knows, Greg. But don¡¯t worry about me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re making that rather difficult.¡±


    David was quiet for a while but finally said: ¡°He killed two of my best friends, Greg. People I thought were his friends, too. Back then, all I could do was watch. I¡¯m not doing that again.


    Someone else has been here,¡± he added before Greg could think of an answer. ¡°Over there.¡±


    When Greg paused to look, the hoof prints were hard to miss.


    ¡°Werewolf hunter, I reckon,¡± David added. ¡°Must have been here yesterday, right after the rain. See how deep those tracks are? Ground must have been very soft, but no rainwater collected inside them.¡±


    They followed the tracks, and David continued his lecture. Greg was pretty sure that his brother didn¡¯t even notice that he did. Eventually, the trail led them back to their father and Nathan, who had followed it on the other side of the railway line.


    ¡°Only one set of tracks,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Must have been deLande, right?¡±


    ¡°Most likely, yes,¡± Bram agreed. He nodded to himself. ¡°If it¡¯s only her, we shouldn¡¯t have any issues. If there are soldiers present as well, we might have to improvise.¡±


    Greg didn¡¯t worry about a bunch of soldiers. He could deal with those. But the thought of Lane deLande scared him nearly senseless. That woman was a legend. And she was completely obsessed with killing werewolves.


    But if it was her, alone, against his brothers and father, it wouldn¡¯t matter how good she was. There was no way she would get past the four of them to hurt him.


    It was already fairly late in the afternoon by the time they returned to the hotel. Stable hands took the horses off them, as soon as they had dismounted, and when they entered the lobby, one of the receptionists approached them. ¡°There is a messenger for the Honourable Greg Feleke? Also a young lady? They have been waiting all afternoon.¡°


    Greg looked around and spotted Isaac and Thoko, who had already started in their direction.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Greg said, and the receptionist retreated back behind his desk. ¡°This is Isaac,¡± Greg explained for his family when his friends hesitated a couple of meters away. ¡°Let¡¯s talk someplace more private?¡±


    Isaac just stared at them for a long while, and finally shook his head. ¡°Eyal sent me,¡± he said. ¡°Thoko told us what happened, and we just wanted to know if you¡¯ll still be there on half-moon.¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m going to be there,¡± Greg huffed. ¡°We just went and had a look around the place where the duke wants to meet us.¡±


    That obviously surprised Isaac, and he looked back and forth between them again. ¡°Look, are you here tomorrow? Or the day after?¡± he asked after a moment. ¡°I can¡¯t stay, or I¡¯ll be late for the new year¡¯s celebration.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Greg said. ¡°I¡¯ll be here.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re going to stay for dinner, Thoko, right?¡±, Nathan asked before anyone else could say more.


    Thoko looked a little flustered but nodded. ¡°Uh, sure. I mean, thank you.¡±


    When they were all seated in the hotel¡¯s restaurant, Thoko was very quiet, until she finally asked: ¡°Why was this so much less awkward before I knew you¡¯re a noble?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea why you think it¡¯s awkward to have dinner with a noble, but are perfectly fine having dinner with a werewolf,¡± Greg gave back.


    Thoko wasn¡¯t the only one who was looking strangely at him though. His father wouldn¡¯t take his eyes off of him either.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t changed at all,¡± he said when Greg eventually met them with a questioning look of his own. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen that happen before.¡±


    Greg frowned, but it was Thoko who asked: ¡°So you¡¯ve met people like Greg before?¡±


    ¡°Not like Greg,¡± Bram said. ¡°But many of the wolves out there used to be hunters, Thoko. And while we all claim that we would rather die than become what we¡¯re hunting ¨C well, once someone is faced with the reality of it, very few do end their own life. It¡¯s not that unusual to meet people again, after, and it¡¯s usually not hard to spot.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡± Greg wanted to know.


    His father shrugged. ¡°Well, you know of course that most werewolves change physically. Their eyes, mostly, and the hair. And even those that don¡¯t... Some won¡¯t come inside at all. Some will, but can¡¯t stop looking for the nearest exit. A lot of the ones I have met seemed to have some issues with speech, too. Many will jump at sounds a human hardly even notices. Hell, I¡¯ve met a guy who couldn¡¯t stop himself from chasing squirrels. But mostly it¡¯s in the interaction with other people where you notice. They become paranoid, mistrustful. Like a dog who has been beaten.¡±


    ¡°Well, of course they do,¡± Thoko pointed out. ¡°I¡¯d be pretty paranoid if I was a werewolf talking to someone I know to be a hunter.¡±


    ¡°Certainly, but it¡¯s more than that,¡± Bram said calmly. ¡°They¡¯d be smarter to act normal around me, wouldn¡¯t they? But they don¡¯t. I don¡¯t think they can.¡±


    ¡°Porter seemed pretty normal to me,¡± Greg said thoughtfully. ¡°I mean, he was staring daggers at me, too, but I do think he could have stopped himself. He just thought I was too drunk to notice.¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­¡± his father muttered. ¡°Of course, if someone doesn¡¯t change, I wouldn¡¯t know what happened to them. So maybe Greg is the norm, after all. I don¡¯t think so, though.¡±


    ¡°I could still change,¡± Greg pointed out.


    ¡°After all this time? Unlikely. I once met a woman who swore blind that her son was completely fine until after his fourth full moon, when he suddenly turned violent. And sure, every hunter has some tale to tell about a child, or a pretty girl, or this really, really old bloke who they initially let go, cause they seem so harmless, and a couple of months later they come back and a whole village has been slaughtered on half-moon. But I¡¯ve never heard a reliable story about something like that happening past the fourth month.¡±


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying,¡± Thoko said, ¡°is that Greg could have still turned on us, even after he¡¯d protected us for over a month?¡±


    ¡°It happens,¡± Bram confirmed. ¡°Not terribly often, but still.¡±


    ¡°The results are pretty terrible, when it does happen,¡± Andrew said darkly.


    ¡°So if the duke keeps his word and doesn¡¯t have Greg shot,¡± Thoko said thoughtfully, ¡°and we do try to hire more werewolves, we better make sure that they have been sane for four months.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d wait for their fifth full moon, just to be on the safe side,¡± David said. ¡°If you can verify that at all.¡±


    ¡°Could you put a werewolf in a cage?¡± Greg asked. ¡°Just for full moon, I mean. A big box that can be transported on a cart, for example.¡±


    His father thought about that for a long time. ¡°I¡¯ve heard there are still some travelling fairs,¡± he said finally, ¡°who have werewolves on display, even though it¡¯s technically illegal. I¡¯ve no idea what they do around full moon, but I reckon a sturdy enough cage should do it. The Morgulon travelled for years with the circus. Mind you, she was barely as big as a sheepdog when I first saw her. Still, I reckon there has to be a way. Maybe line the walls with silver, just to be on the safe side.¡±


    ¡°Ouch,¡± Greg muttered.


    His father opened his mouth and closed it again. ¡°Right,¡± he said. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    After dinner, they had the maid bring them drinks up to their rooms, where Thoko continued to pick their brains about werewolves and everything that might help keep the crew safe in the forest. Greg almost expected her to take notes.

 Chapter 12

    Half-moon was a cold, and wet, and altogether miserable day, and the fact that David insisted on starting the ride out to the watering station before sunrise did not make it any better. Greg cursed softly, while he tried to rub warmth back into his fingers.


    ¡°Now what?¡± he asked his brother when they reached the trees. By now, the sun was up, and it was as bright as it was likely to get with those clouds.


    ¡°Now we wait,¡± David gave back calmly.


    ¡°Can we at least make a fire?¡± Greg sighed. He was not looking forward to camping out here, in the middle of nowhere, for a whole day.


    David looked up into the sky. ¡°We can go, hide deeper between the trees,¡± he finally said. ¡°See if we can get a fire going.¡±


    ¡°You do realize that this is Rot country, right?¡±


    ¡°I was kind of hoping that you like me enough to defend me, too,¡± David replied, with only half a smile.


    ¡°No, I mean ¨C it¡¯s a lot easier to do that if I have at least a torch at hand,¡± Greg explained. ¡°Cause if I transform in a hurry, I¡¯m going to ruin my boots, and I don¡¯t think anyone has a pair to spare that would fit me. And if I ride into town barefoot, I¡¯m pretty sure the guards will ask questions.¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± David agreed. ¡°I mean, if that makes it easier for you, you can just turn right now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give it until after lunch,¡± Greg decided. ¡°I¡¯m already getting hungry.¡±


    David led the way between the trees, to a little clearing they had scouted out a few days ago. His older brother did manage to get a fire going, to Greg¡¯s relief, and he moved as close to the flames as he could without burning himself.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t scared of the fire at all,¡± David noted.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°It¡¯s just strange,¡± David sighed. ¡°I mean, you think you know about werewolves, and then you realize, you really don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m just different,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°Or maybe the sane werewolves are all like me, and the only ones you ever killed were the other kind.¡±


    David smiled wearily. ¡°Sun, I wish that was true.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Nice thought, though.¡±


    ¡°I think the Valoise know all about this,¡± Greg said. ¡°About all of it. That not all the werewolves are these dangerous, murderous monsters they¡¯re made out to be. And that we can fight the Rot.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re right,¡± David said.


    ¡°But if I am, then we need the duke. We can¡¯t fight the Valoise without him.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said softly. He was quiet for a moment, and then said: ¡°Let¡¯s eat lunch.¡±


    Greg was dying to ask what had happened between his brother and Duke George Louis, but in the end, he kept his mouth shut. It wasn¡¯t his business.


    They sat in silence for a long time, until Greg started to feel something. So he decided that if they weren¡¯t going to talk anyway, he might as well transform right now.


    ¡°The Rot is about,¡± he told David, while he took off his coat. ¡°Can you feel it?¡±


    ¡°Feel what?¡±


    ¡°Headache,¡± Greg said. ¡°Not really a headache yet, just ¨C pressure around the temples.¡±


    ¡°Oh that. I¡¯ve had that all day,¡± David said. ¡°Never thought about it. That¡¯s how it starts?¡±


    Greg nodded and struggled out of his riding boots. David¡¯s eyes never left him, not even when he was starting to take off his pants. After months of bathing only in streams with a crew of navvies, Greg wasn¡¯t exactly modest, but his brother¡¯s gaze was still making him uncomfortable.


    When Greg turned away, David tended to the fire and said: ¡°Sorry for staring. I¡¯m just curious. What you look like, I mean.¡±


    Greg smiled wryly. ¡°Yeah, well. I¡¯d like to know, too. Isaac described it for me, but, well. I¡¯ve never seen myself in a mirror.¡±


    He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then glanced over his shoulder even though he had told himself he wouldn¡¯t when he let himself crash into his other body.


    David managed to hide his flinch pretty well, but Greg knew him well enough to recognize that flick of his head, the hunched-up shoulders that straightened out right away.


    They just stared at each other for a few seconds, until finally, David said: ¡°Well, that was something,¡± and got up to calm their horses, who were trained to fight werewolves, not stand around just watching them.


    Greg let himself drop back onto the ground, like a dog that was told to lay down, and David settled down again, too.


    ¡°Does it hurt?¡± David asked.


    Greg couldn¡¯t quite suppress a shudder at the question. When he nodded, David looked down and away, pressing his lips together.


    After a moment, David said: ¡°If you want to go to sleep, that¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll keep watch, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Greg would have liked to tell David that the wolf would likely hear anyone approaching long before the hunter did, but there was nothing he could do beyond flick his ears.


    ¡°You think you can hear better than I, huh?¡±


    Greg yawned instead of nodding, and David laughed.


    ¡°Right.¡±


    Greg did end up dozing off for an hour or two. When he woke up, David was still sitting at exactly the same spot, silently tending to his crossbow. When he saw that Greg was awake, he moved, as if he wanted to cover up his quiver of silver bolts, then stopped himself.


    ¡°Sleeping beauty is awake,¡± he said. ¡°Good. I think the Rot is getting closer.¡±


    Greg sneezed. He wondered whether his brother could feel the pressure on his head, or smell the sick, fetid odour of the Rot, or possibly both.


    ¡°Maybe we should start moving,¡± David added. ¡°If I build the fire up enough to protect me from the Rot, someone might spot the smoke. And it¡¯s going to be time soon anyway.¡±


    David led his stallion, while Dolly just followed them like a dog. Greg smiled, as much as a wolf could, when he realized that they were about the same size, him and the mare.


    Dusk was falling by the time they reached the edge of the forest, hidden behind just a couple of lines of trees and the underbrush. The stench of the Rot was weaker here. David seemed to notice it, too. They waited in silence and watched how their father, Andrew, and Nathan came riding up to the watering station, soon followed by Eyal, Isaac, and Gavrel who must have walked the whole six or seven miles.


    Duke George Louis was last, riding on a fine black stallion, and just like David had predicted, he hadn¡¯t come alone. The director of his company was with him, and so was Smith, to Greg¡¯s surprise. And also Lane deLande in her full hunting gear, and a couple of soldiers.


    When he saw them, David¡¯s face hardened.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± he muttered and started to move almost soundlessly through the underbrush.


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± Eyal said in greeting and bowed rather stiffly.


    ¡°Mr. Levi,¡± the duke replied. ¡°A rather larger group than I expected.¡±


    ¡°We could say the same thing, George,¡± David called, stepping out of the trees. ¡°What happened to ¡®come alone¡¯?¡±


    The duke¡¯s face did something complicated when he saw David but eventually settled on a bland smile. ¡°The Honourable David Feleke. What a surprise. Now we have five werewolf hunters. But no werewolf?¡±


    Greg took that as his cue to also move out, not bothering to be quiet. He could see Lane deLande¡¯s head jerk left and right, as she searched the tree line, and she had one hand on the crossbow that was hitched to the saddle.


    Greg hesitated, hidden behind a large fir tree until Nathan moved his horse closer to the huntress. She never even spared him a glance. Just like Greg had expected, deLande whipped her crossbow around as soon as he stepped out into the open, aiming and shooting in one swift motion. Greg had no doubt that she would have hit him square in the chest if Nathan hadn¡¯t locked his foot underneath hers, upending her in the saddle.


    Her shot went wide, and before she could catch her balance, Nathan had knocked her off her horse completely. David was at her side immediately, taking the weapon from her.


    ¡°We were told you wanted to talk, Your Highness,¡± Bram said calmly. ¡°Is that so? Because if it isn¡¯t, please do not waste our time.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the duke said after a second. ¡°DeLande, stand down. I have to wonder, though, Lord de Courtenay, what your interest is in this matter.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s his son,¡± deLande hissed. ¡°The werewolf is his bloody son!¡±


    The duke frowned. ¡°Is that so?¡± he asked. ¡°I did not realize there was a ¡®John¡¯ Feleke.¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t,¡± deLande growled. ¡°His name is Gregory!¡±


    The duke looked from Bram to Eyal, and back again. ¡°Is that true?¡± he asked again.


    ¡°Yes, Your Highness,¡± said Eyal finally.


    ¡°I see,¡± the duke said softly. ¡°But was he not present when we talked in my office at the company seat?¡±


    ¡°He was, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°So, in other words, I have already talked to him,¡± the duke noted. ¡°How very interesting. I never would have guessed of his affliction.¡± He turned to Greg. ¡°So you have protected the crew not from werewolves, but the Rot?¡±


    Greg nodded.


    ¡°Why did you do so?¡±


    Greg tilted his head and frowned.


    The duke promptly looked at Isaac. ¡°Well? I was told you two could communicate. Or was that a lie as well?¡±


    ¡°No, Yer Highness,¡± Isaac muttered. ¡°But, uh, he thinks that¡¯s a stupid question.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes when Isaac glanced over to him.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s the Rot, Yer Highness,¡± Isaac sighed. ¡°Of course he helped us.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Greg hardly even listened. The stench of the Rot was getting thicker, and he could hear something move in the trees behind them. He growled softly. DeLande promptly tried to wrestle her crossbow out of David¡¯s grip, and the duke asked: ¡°Now what?¡±


    ¡°We need to leave,¡± Isaac said. ¡°The Rot is getting closer.¡±


    ¡°I thought your friend here could defend us.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a bloody foolish risk to take, Your Highness,¡± Eyal said. ¡°We have no protection here, and no idea how many creatures are on the way. He can¡¯t be in two places at once.¡±


    The duke hesitated a moment and then reached into his pocket. ¡°I see your point,¡± he said and tossed something in Greg¡¯s direction, a small amulet, as far as Greg could tell.


    For a few seconds, everybody was very quiet, until deLande said: ¡°Please tell me that wasn¡¯t magical, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°Just a weak charm,¡± the duke said loftily.


    ¡°Right,¡± David grumbled. ¡°Well, that was officially the stupidest thing I¡¯ve ever seen you do. Now, let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    He turned towards the forest, but before he could go in to get the horses, Dolly and David¡¯s gelding came breaking through the trees in a blind panic. The other mounts followed after them, carrying their riders away, but the duke was thrown out of his saddle when his stallion bolted. David went after the horses without hesitation, but he only managed a few steps before he slowed down and finally froze. Eyal, Isaac, and Gavrel didn¡¯t even get that far. Neither did Lane deLande or the duke, but Greg was slightly less worried about them.


    When he turned back to face the forest, the first Rot creatures were closing in on the point where the duke¡¯s strange amulet had landed. They were fairly big, both about the size of a deer. They circled the amulet, like hunters closing in on their prey, but before either of them could get it, a third one appeared, probably once a wild hog, but misshapen now, covered in grey lichen. The three of them jumped at the amulet almost at the same moment, and then something strange happened: Instead of fighting over it, the creatures seemed to melt, flow into each other until there was only one creature left, as big as the three of them together.


    The stink that came off the monster was so thick Greg could hardly breathe, and for a few seconds, even he couldn¡¯t move a muscle. He could look around though, see the terror on the faces of David, and his friends, who could only watch on in horror, frozen by the power of the Rot.


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    Hollow, empty eye sockets fixated on Greg, as if this thing somehow knew, recognized, that he posed a threat.


    Greg shuddered. He hadn¡¯t been scared of the Rot, not since that very first night, and most certainly not in his wolf form. But he was scared now, scared not just for himself, but for his friends and brother as well. Only with effort did he manage to shake himself out of his stupor and glare at the thing. It reminded him of a bulldog ¨C if bulldogs grew as large as oxen. It was stocky, and heavy-set, with four short legs, a huge head, and shovel-like jaws. Greg had no doubt that those jaws would have no issue breaking his bones.


    He¡¯d have to thank the duke for that later. First, though, he had to get them all out of here alive.


    The creature charged, surprisingly fast on its stumpy legs, and Greg hurried to get out of the way. He could feel it passing like a breeze, almost brushing against him. The Rot-beast was carried past him but turned around much more agile than Greg would have liked, just to charge at him again.


    The wolf part of him knew what to do. When the bulldog rushed past him, Greg managed to rip a piece out of its hind legs. The creature roared as if in pain ¨C not that that meant much. Greg still wasn¡¯t sure what the Rot actually felt, if it felt at all. The monsters might scream as if in agony, but they were never slowed down by injuries, and they did not tire.


    Greg would have to rip this thing to pieces, one bite after the other, and pray to whatever god was listening that it didn¡¯t get him first. If those jaws got a hold of his throat, they were all dead.


    Once again, Greg danced out of the way when the rot-beast came at him, and he started to feel the pressure again, the vice-like grip on his skull that had him almost seeing double. If he had been fighting the three Rot creatures individually, it wouldn¡¯t even have been a contest. Joined together like this, though, their power seemed to multiply, seeping his strength and making him sluggish. Greg was already breathing hard as if he had been running for hours.


    The abomination was being more careful now, circling him instead of charging, waiting for an opening, or possibly trying to make him dizzy. It jumped forwards and raked at him with its claws, leaving three long, bleeding gashes along his ribs. In return, Greg tore another piece out of its hideous form.


    Greg had no idea how long they danced like this, the Rot sometimes circling, sometimes charging at him, while he tried to get out of the way as fast as possible yet moving only as little as necessary, to save his strength. Sometimes he managed to draw the creature away from his brother and friends a little, but at some point, it would always break away from him and return to the stupid amulet the duke had thrown away. Often it would paw the ground around it, giving Greg an opening to rip another piece out of its flanks, at which point it would turn on him again, and he had to dart out of the way.


    The next time they repeated this, Greg realized that David had moved, away from the amulet, so he jumped in the other direction into the trees, and when the Rot followed, he chipped away at it again, tearing another piece out of its flank.


    It was starting to look decidedly lopsided now, which gave it a sort of waddle. When it charged at Greg for the umpteenth time, he mistimed his evasive manoeuvre, and those huge, heavy jaws smashed into his right shoulder, missing his throat by inches. He could feel bones break. Half-blind with pain and terror he snapped at the Rot again, biting over and over, struggling to stay at its side, out of reach of its not-teeth, but close enough that it couldn¡¯t charge at him again.


    They somehow both ended up tumbling over the ground, Greg howling with pain, but the Rot creature was screaming, too, as they rolled over the pieces Greg had torn out of its unnatural form. Greg managed to come out on top, harrowing what would be the neck in a real animal. The Rot-bulldog tried to buck him off, but Greg had found a solid piece in between all the fungus and vines, and held on for dear life.


    The Rot thing jumped and threw itself at its side, trying to roll over Greg. He bit down even harder when it came up again, kicking like a wild mustang. Whatever it was he had been holding onto, he could feel it snap and he was thrown several yards through the air.


    For a long time, he just lay there, waiting for the Rot thing to come at him again. Nothing happened, though. When he finally raised his head to look, the creature wasn¡¯t moving, either. In fact, the oversized head had fallen off, laying a few yards away from the body, and the lower jaw looked like it had come unmoored as well.


    While he was still looking, one of the legs seemed to dissolve, forming a small, spiderlike form that scuttled off to pick up the amulet and vanish between the trees. The rest of the thing never stirred.


    Greg tried to get up, but his vision greyed out as soon as he struggled to his feet, so he collapsed again and closed his eyes for a moment.


    ¡°I hope you are satisfied with this demonstration, Your Highness,¡± he could hear Eyal say. ¡°I¡¯m afraid we won¡¯t be able to repeat it for a while.¡±


    Greg would have grinned about Eyal¡¯s dry tone of voice if he had been in his own body. He didn¡¯t much feel like presenting his naked, bloodied arse to the duke, though, so he stayed wolf.


    ¡°Quite satisfied, yes,¡± the duke said.


    ¡°You okay?¡± David said right next to Greg¡¯s ear.


    Greg rolled his eyes and managed to give a weak shake of his head.


    ¡°Right. I¡¯ve found your clothes.¡±


    Greg whined softly. Now that he tried, he wasn¡¯t even sure he could turn human again while he was in so much pain.


    ¡°Greg?¡± David asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s trying,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Give it some time.¡±


    David frowned and looked over towards the tree line, then he wordlessly got up and began to gather the pieces Greg had ripped out of the Rot beast.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m making a fire,¡± David said. ¡°Since he¡¯s clearly not able to defend anyone right now.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Isaac muttered and brought Eyal and Gavrel over to help.


    When the fire burned brightly, the duke came over and sat down as if it was his campfire. DeLande followed hesitantly, never taking her eyes off of Greg.


    ¡°I want my crossbow back,¡± she demanded.


    David completely ignored her. He was carefully examining Greg¡¯s injuries, and eventually turned to Isaac: ¡°Do you think there¡¯s any point in trying to bandage this up?¡±


    Isaac frowned. ¡°Ye gonna turn human soon, Greg?¡± he asked.


    Greg rolled his eyes at him but nodded weakly.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯d wait,¡± Isaac said but scuttled over to take a closer look as well. ¡°Damn,¡± he muttered.


    Greg looked away while the two of them fussed over him. DeLande was still standing at the edge of the circle of light the fire cast, glaring daggers at him.


    The duke seemed to follow his gaze. ¡°Have a seat,¡± he said. ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    ¡°No, we don¡¯t,¡± deLande gave back, but the duke just stared at her firmly. After a few seconds, she dropped down onto the ground. ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°Very good,¡± the duke said. ¡°I¡¯m going to assume that you can speak for your father and brothers as well, David?¡±


    When David nodded, he continued: ¡°Perfect. I have to say, I¡¯m quite impressed with what I have seen here tonight. I would, therefore, like you,¡± he looked at deLande and David, ¡°to start looking for other werewolves who would be willing and able to do what Gregory here has done today. I will, of course, pay double for a live one as what the Empire pays for a dead one.¡±


    ¡°How very generous of you,¡± David muttered, and Greg huffed as well. Nobody hunted werewolves just for the basic rate the Empire paid for every dead werewolf presented to a Valoisian official. It was the individual bounties, usually put up by the Church, that made the job worth the risk.


    ¡°This is insane,¡± deLande growled. ¡°You cannot seriously expect me to participate in this madness? This ¨C this blasphemy?¡±


    The duke just said: ¡°I am dead serious.¡±


    Greg thought he could see deLande pale, pressing her lips together as if biting back more words.


    ¡°Do you think you can do this?¡± the duke asked, looking at David.


    ¡°In principle?¡± David shrugged. ¡°Sure. But if we do find someone who doesn¡¯t run for the hills screaming, where do you want us to bring them? Here to Eoforwic? Might be a little tricky to explain that to the guards.¡±


    ¡°Bring them to the New City of Eoforwic,¡± the duke said. ¡°To the railroad company. Take the New Gate. I¡¯ll have arrangements made to ensure you won¡¯t be bothered by guards.¡±


    David nodded. ¡°I assume you want Greg to stay with the company? Because it will be a lot easier to win over a werewolf if he¡¯s with us.¡±


    ¡°I do expect him to stay with his crew, yes,¡± the duke said. ¡°However ¨C the company is still in the planning process of the proposed line to Mannin, so I suppose they will be able to spare him, at least until next spring.¡±


    He looked quizzically at Eyal, who considered the question for a moment. ¡°We¡¯ve got a short piece on one of the sidelines,¡± he said eventually. ¡°But perhaps we can work something out. Will you keep this secret, your Highness?¡±


    ¡°Of course we will all keep this secret,¡± the duke replied.


    ¡°I was just thinking,¡± Eyal said, ¡°that we, our crew, might have the best chance at finding werewolves. If we just put the word out among those navvies we know won¡¯t run to the Valoise? It can be just another rumour about us ¨C everybody knows you can¡¯t trust werewolves, but if someone like Greg hears it? Maybe they¡¯ll come to find us.¡±


    The duke thought about that. ¡°Might be worth the risk,¡± he finally decided. ¡°Just be careful that it stays a rumour nobody believes in. Especially not the Valoise.¡±


    Greg raised his head a little, growling softly, which made everybody stare at him, and then at Isaac.


    ¡°Uh,¡± Isaac muttered. ¡°Ye know, I think he wants to say: ¡®What about her?¡¯,¡± he pointed at deLande. ¡°She¡¯s Valoisian, right?¡±


    Greg nodded along.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about her ladyship¡¯s discretion,¡± the duke said calmly.


    DeLande didn¡¯t say anything but turned her back on them. Greg wasn¡¯t sure how reassuring he found that. But at least this way she wasn¡¯t looking at him when he finally managed to ignore the throbbing pain of his injuries enough to change his shape.


    The duke watched with interest as David and Isaac did what they could for his injuries, and then helped him put on his clothes. ¡°I was told only silver, fire, and magic could injure a werewolf even through a transformation,¡± he said.


    ¡°The Rot is magical,¡± David pointed out.


    ¡°So you were very lucky?¡± the duke said. ¡°That he never got injured severely enough that he could not defend the camp the next night?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Eyal said.


    ¡°But most creatures are a lot less dangerous than that one,¡± Isaac added. ¡°He¡¯s fought three, or four, or even five of the smaller ones, the ones that formed that monster tonight, and he never had more than a few scratches. That magic amulet must have done something to make them stronger.¡±


    Duke George Louis didn¡¯t say anything to that. But after a while, he got up to drop some more wood into the fire. When he returned, he asked: ¡°So, what do you reckon it would take to defeat several monsters like that creature?¡±


    ¡°Several werewolves, I suppose. Or maybe the Morgulon,¡± David said.


    Greg managed a weak grin at that, while deLande turned around to glare at them.


    ¡°And who ¨C or what ¨C is the Morgulon?¡± George Louis asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s a legend,¡± David said. ¡°She doesn¡¯t actually exist.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it does,¡± deLande said.


    David rolled his eyes when the duke looked back and forth between them, eyebrows raised. ¡°The Morgulon was this werewolf, who was captured by a circus when she was a really small child. Ages ago.¡±


    ¡°About thirty years ago,¡± deLande corrected.


    ¡°Before I was born, in any case,¡± David continued. ¡°No one knows what her real name was, or if she even had one. Father says the troupe claimed that she had been born a werewolf. Well, they presented her as their main act, rolled in a giant cage, and then this little girl transformed into this huge puppy. People said it was the cutest thing on earth.¡±


    ¡°Blasphemy,¡± deLande hissed.


    ¡°Father says it made hunters really unpopular for a while, so the Valoise decided the circus had to leave and couldn¡¯t come back to Loegrion for five years. I guess they toured the rest of the Valoisian Empire in the meantime.¡± David shot a glare at deLande. ¡°Until after five years, when they were back, an arsonist set fire to the circus, to kill a child who most certainly had never hurt anyone.¡±


    ¡°My father,¡± deLande said through gritted teeth, ¡°attempted to kill a monster. To protect people from their own stupidity, because that child would not stay a child forever!¡±


    ¡°Well, he killed a bunch of those people he was trying to protect,¡± David shrugged. ¡°The whole circus burned down, and it¡¯s seriously unlikely that the Morgulon escaped. L¨¦on deLande kept looking for it, though.¡±


    ¡°He saw it,¡± deLande growled. ¡°He saw it escape and then he saw it murder my mother! He hunted the monster until it murdered him too. But I¡¯ll find the creature and make sure it burns properly.¡±


    David rolled his eyes. ¡°Well, anyway, the Morgulon became this legend among hunters. Whenever someone can¡¯t fulfil a contract cause the werewolf outsmarted them, it¡¯s always the Morgulon. The Morgulon can never be caught, and probably become invisible, and stuff like that. What I was trying to say is that it¡¯s probably impossible for one werewolf to defeat several creatures like the Rot monster Greg killed tonight.¡±


    ¡°That at least is true,¡± deLande muttered.


    Greg closed his eyes when silence fell around their fire. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose anyone of you brought any food?¡±


    About an hour later, Lane deLande¡¯s grey stallion trotted over to their little campfire, nuzzling his mistress like a faithful dog. As soon as dawn tinged the clouds pink, Andrew, Nathan, and their father also returned, leading Dolly and David¡¯s gelding with them.


    ¡°This is going to be fun,¡± Greg muttered, as Andrew and his father hoisted him onto Dolly¡¯s back. Since he could barely hold himself in the saddle, Andrew climbed up behind him and grabbed the reins. Dolly huffed a little annoyed at the additional weight but didn¡¯t seem too bothered by it.


    The duke took the horse Andrew had rented in the city, with the promise to have it returned. He left with deLande, both of them clearly in a hurry to get away.


    Andrew nudged Dolly into a sedate, ambling walk which still sent waves of pain through Greg¡¯s back and arm at every step. Andrew wasn¡¯t particularly helpful: ¡°I guess I shouldn¡¯t let you take Dolly again. Every time I do, you seem to wind up breaking something.¡±


    ¡°Just be glad I¡¯m not bleeding all over you,¡± Greg grunted.


    ¡°Actually, I think you are,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Great. I¡¯ll have to burn this shirt. And you¡¯re wearing one of my shirts, and I¡¯ll have to burn that too. Thanks a lot, man.¡±


    Greg tried to see what Andrew was talking about, but the pain that shot through his shoulder made him stop.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he gasped. ¡°Must have split open again when I got in the saddle.¡±


    ¡°How long will this take to heal?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°As long as it would take you to heal from this,¡± Greg muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that I would be at least unconscious if I was bleeding like that,¡± Andrew said. Louder, he added: ¡°He¡¯s going to need a doctor. Anyone want to come up with a story of how the hell this happened?¡±


    ¡°Factory accident,¡± David said at once.


    ¡°Factory accident, really? That¡¯s the best you can come up with? How are we going to explain the bite marks?¡±


    ¡°We know a doctor,¡± Eyal said, who was walking alongside them. ¡°Someone who won¡¯t ask so many questions.¡±


    Greg gave up on trying to hold himself upright and allowed himself to lean into his brother¡¯s chest.


    ¡°There you go,¡± David said.


    ¡°Right. And what do we tell the guards?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°George Louis said to take the New Gate and that he¡¯d take care of the guards.¡± David shrugged. ¡°He seemed really eager to keep Greg, so I reckon we can take his word for it.¡±


    There was a moment of pause while Andrew gently wrapped one arm around Greg¡¯s waist to hold him in case he slipped. Then he asked: ¡°Not to sound too worried, but do we have any idea what werewolf blood does to human skin once it has soaked its way through a shirt?¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Greg muttered.


    ¡°I think the only one we need to worry about is the werewolf right now,¡± his father said.


    ¡°Unless you¡¯re bleeding, too, in which case things might get interesting,¡± David added. ¡°But that¡¯s why you got him, and not me.¡±


    ¡°I would have taken him, too,¡± Nathan chimed in. ¡°Just saying.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± David said. ¡°But I bet Andrew is more comfortable. Since he has better padding than you do.¡±


    ¡°You mean since I¡¯ve got some muscles between my skin and bones?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Not just muscles,¡± Nathan snickered.


    ¡°You¡¯re just jealous, bony-arse.¡± Andrew paused. ¡°Hey, man, tell me if you are passing out on me.¡±


    ¡°Jus¡¯ tired,¡± Greg muttered, slurring the words together. ¡°No ¨C no reason to s-sound s¡¯ alrmd.¡±


    ¡°Just tired, sure you are,¡± Andrew grumbled. ¡°Where can we find this doctor?¡± he asked Eyal.


    ¡°We can take you there,¡± Eyal said. ¡°He might not talk to you without us.¡±


    ¡°I think we need to pick up the pace,¡± Andrew said. ¡°He¡¯s bleeding like a slaughtered pig.¡±


    So David pulled up Isaac onto the horse behind himself, Eyal rode with Nathan, and Gavrel with Bram.


    Greg let his head fall back until he was curled up against Andrew.


    The banter stopped as they picked up the pace, as fast as the horses could go with the added load. At some point, Greg lost consciousness. He had no idea how they had passed the gates, or how people on the streets had reacted to seeing them, eight men on just four horses. When he came to, he was laying in bed, back at the hotel, his wounds stitched closed and wrapped in clean bandages. His father was sitting next to his bed, staring into nothing.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Greg muttered hoarsely, which made Bram jump a little before he smiled.


    ¡°Good morning, sleepyhead,¡± he said.


    Greg blinked. ¡°Morning? How long was I out?¡±


    ¡°The doctor gave you something against the pain, which also made you sleep through the day and the night.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°Great.¡±


    ¡°What, did you have plans?¡± his father asked, smiling wryly.


    ¡°Sort of,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°I need to figure out where to go on full moon.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been staying in the forest, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, well,¡± Greg said. ¡°That was before it was cut in half by the railway. I don¡¯t want to get run over by or attack a train. Also, I¡¯m not really comfortable knowing that deLande knows that I¡¯m staying in the forest.¡±


    ¡°Good point,¡± his father said slowly. ¡°We¡¯ll figure something out.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg muttered. Full moon was always a source of anxiety, but now it felt like his first time all over again. The first full moon with his family here, and in the know.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want us to help?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Greg hurried to say. ¡°Just ¨C I don¡¯t know how you can help. I was going to leave early, turn wolf, run for a day or two to put some distance between myself and the city. But now¡­¡± He shrugged with his good shoulder. ¡°How bad is it, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Your shoulder blade is broken,¡± his father said. ¡°The doctor was really surprised about that part, says he has never seen that happen before. Several of your ribs went, too, but his biggest concern was an infection, especially when Eyal told him that it was the Rot that did this.¡±


    Greg shuddered. ¡°Great. Something to look forward too.¡±


    ¡°It all looks fine so far,¡± his father reassured him. ¡°But he¡¯ll be back later today to check.¡±


    They all came in over the next couple of days to check on him, not just the doctor, but also Eyal, Isaac, Thoko, and half the crew dropped in to see how he was. On the fourth day, Greg was heaved onto Dolly¡¯s back again, and they left Eoforwic. Bram had found a place for them, an old estate at the edge to one of the small villages surrounding Eoforwic, which he had bought. Neither the land nor the main building was in great shape, but it had a large, deep, and sturdy basement that was accessed not by stairs but a ladder. So Greg could spend full moon night down there, and all his family had to do was pull up the ladder and close the trapdoor.


    Getting down there was not fun.

 Chapter 13

    If one were to board the stagecoach at Eoforwic going towards the western mountains, they would soon leave the heartlands and thus the power of the Valoisian Empire behind. The last bastion of true civilization, marked by an Imperial garrison, was Sheaf. The town was situated on the eastern slope of the Crucible Ridge, the first and lowest of the frontier mountain ranges running north to south along the whole length of the Loegrian landmass.


    The next, slightly higher ridge was the Argentum Formation, beyond which lay the sheer endless High Plains, and even further the actual Central Ranges. If one managed to cross those ¨C and not all coaches did ¨C they would abruptly reach the rich, fertile west coast with its mild climate.


    Along the coach roads, there were settlements. The Crucible Ridge with its iron mines was still thinly populated ¨C it had been thriving, before the Rot ¨C and the Argentum Formation had silver deposits, which were enough to support mining towns to this day, and even as far as the eastern half of the High Plains there were a few villages. Beyond that, there were only the fortified roadhouses with their supply depots, and camps of the nomadic Plains People, all the way to the Central Ranges. At the foot of the Central Ranges sat Clyde¡¯s Pass, named for the only safe path across the Ranges. It flourished, despite the Rot and the other monsters living in the mountains, because it had mines of that most precious of metals: Gold.


    Clyde¡¯s Pass also marked the halfway point for those who did take the stagecoach across Loegrion. As the saying went, one had to cross iron and silver to get to the gold.


    Despite Clyde¡¯s Pass¡¯s riches, the Valoisian Armies had never even gotten close to the city, defeated not by the Loegrian resistance but by sheer distance and the unpredictable winter storms of the Argentum Formation.


    Lane deLande was starting to fear that she was going to suffer the same fate. She had intended to push for Clyde¡¯s Pass to weather the winter in comfort and safety, but the first snowfall caught her by surprise. She was still at the foothills of the Argentum Formation, had only yesterday crossed the river Abhain that separated it from the Crucible Ridge. Besides, it wasn¡¯t even Novembre yet.


    But there was no point in complaining about this early onset of winter. She¡¯d have to make haste to the next coaching inn before the weather turned even worse. Her grey stallion stretched himself willingly, and an hour later they reached the next human settlement.


    The inn and its courtyard had its own high, massive stone walls, tipped with spikes and torches, which had already been lit. On one side of those walls, a tiny settlement had formed. Calling it a town seemed overly generous, and Lane could see no fields or farms indicating that it was a village.


    When Lane rode down the short main street, she found a small building with a sign that read ¡®general store¡¯. No baker, though, or butcher, so food probably had to be imported. No pub, either, probably because of the large coaching inn towering over the town.


    She also couldn¡¯t see a church, not even a shrine, which was why she was travelling in this direction. The Empire had no power here, and neither did George Louis ¨C hopefully, by the time spring came around, someone would have given the duke what he had coming, and she could return safely.


    George Louis had to have lost his mind if he really thought she would ¨C or could ¨C bring him a living werewolf. No matter what the duke thought he had seen of the young Feleke, there was no such thing as a sane werewolf. They were soulless monsters, the whole lot of them.


    Created through some curse, some twisted magic, not unlike the Rot. This similarity was no doubt the reason why they could fight it.


    And anyway, what did the duke expect her to do? She was incredibly good at killing werewolves, yes, at finding them, recognizing them, tracking them down. But how was she supposed to catch one alive? How was she supposed to bring one to Duke George Louis, without being mauled on the way? There was no way any of the monsters would come quietly.


    She was no official of the Empire or the Inquisition, either, she had no right to take someone anywhere against their will. And sure, a werewolf didn¡¯t have any more rights than a dog, but she would still have to tell people she was transporting a werewolf if challenged. Which in itself was illegal.


    But if she returned empty-handed, the duke would see to it that the Inquisition stoned her to death, so she had no choice but to put herself beyond his or the Church¡¯s influence.


    Hopefully, one winter would be enough. Her people at Wardshire were used to her long absences, but being Valoise in these regions wasn¡¯t without danger, either.


    Lane sighed inwardly. She¡¯d have to think of a name to tell people at the coaching inn, something suitably Loegrian, which would keep people off her back. Chester should do.


    Lane had just checked in at the coaching inn when the snowfall got so thick that she could barely see anything moving outside the window. If this kept up, she would have to stay for a few days. If she was really unlucky, she would be trapped here until spring.


    Lane sighed again and let her gaze travel through her room. It was the biggest one the inn had, with a nice fireplace, two heavy armchairs right and left of it, a large bed, and a table under the window. Also its own bath and water closet, to Lane¡¯s surprise. The room looked clean and well kept and was not all that expensive. Probably because the inn had very few visitors this time of year.


    Lane sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs and let her head fall back just as there was knock at the door.


    ¡°Come in,¡± Lane called.


    A young girl placed a carafe of wine in front of her and a nice glass. Lane smiled when the girl poured the wine. She was pretty, seventeen or eighteen years old, with pale skin and silky brown hair, braided like a crown around her head. Her clothes were scrupulously clean, and she seemed to know a thing or two about service, too.


    Maybe it wouldn¡¯t be so bad to stay for the winter here, Lane thought, and then pinched herself for the thought.


    As soon as night fell, and Lane went down to the taproom, all her plans for the future collapsed because there was a poster hanging on a pillar next to the bar, a wanted poster. At first glance, it showed a woman¡¯s face, with the light skin of native Loegrians. At second glance it became clear that it didn¡¯t show a woman at all but a werewolf, with eyes that showed no white, like an animal¡¯s, and hair that was mostly grey, even though the face showed no sign of old age. Haggard, yes, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, but not old. It wasn¡¯t the eyes, though, that caught Lane¡¯s attention, or the hair, but the large burn scar on the left side of the face, half-covered over by hair, but clearly visible where it just barely avoided the eye and then travelled down to the jaw.


    She had never seen this face with her own two eyes, had never even seen such an exact likeness of it on paper, but her father had described it over and over, from the small mole on her right upper lip to the exact form of the scar.


    Winter be damned, and Duke George Louis be damned, too.


    ¡°How long has this been here?¡± Lane asked the proprietor of the inn, who was tending bar himself.


    ¡°Not long,¡± the man said, shrugging. ¡°But you don¡¯t need to worry, Miss, werewolves are no danger to this inn.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried,¡± Lane said. ¡°I hunt them for a living. I would be most grateful if you¡¯d be a little more specific?¡±


    The bartender stared at her for a long while, but then turned around. ¡°Mary!¡± he called. ¡°Mary!¡±


    The pretty young girl who had brought Lane the wine earlier came in, and the proprietor asked: ¡°When was that pig farmer here, the one who hung the werewolf pictures?¡±


    ¡°Three days ago, father,¡± the girl said.


    ¡°Right, Miss. There you have it.¡±


    ¡°A pig farmer?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Oh yes, Miss. From over in New Market. Had half a dozen pigs stolen over the last month, or so he claims. So he put up the reward since there seems to be no end in sight.¡±


    ¡°Did they try dogs?¡±


    ¡°He said they did, but that the dogs turned tail as soon as they caught the scent. Can¡¯t have been proper hunting dogs, if you ask me, Miss. No dog worth its feed would run from a trail.¡±


    ¡°No, that sounds about right,¡± Lane said softly and glared at the snow swirling outside of the window.


    A trail. A fresh trail, after four years of chasing her own tail. Maybe something good would come out of the duke¡¯s madness after all.


    Provided the weather allowed her to journey on.


    ¡°How far from here to New Market?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Bout twenty miles, Miss. If the weather is fair, a decent horse can manage it in a day, the road is pretty good on that stretch.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Lane said, and finally sat down to have some dinner.


    One day of travel. She glanced up from her plate over towards the window. There was nothing fair about that snowstorm. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.


    So she ordered another bottle of wine and sat in silence in the large, almost empty room. Maybe she would try to take this one alive, not to bring it to George Louis, but to see it burn, burn like it should have burned more than a quarter of a century ago when her father had tried.


    Or was bloody David Feleke right? Had her father destroyed the monster when he set fire to the circus? But if he had, then what had he been chasing all those years? What had first murdered Lane¡¯s mother, and then him?


    Lane shook her head at herself. This was not the time to start doubting her father, a righteous man, or her own eyes. That Feleke had no idea what he was talking about. He hadn¡¯t been there, after all, and it hadn¡¯t been his father, either.


    If it had been Bram Feleke, a treacherous voice in the back of her head pointed out, the werewolf would most certainly be dead by now. He wouldn¡¯t have failed over and over again.


    Or maybe she was giving him too much credit. Sure, he was a very good hunter ¨C if he deigned to do his job ¨C but the Morgulon wasn¡¯t like other werewolves, not at all. Born a werewolf, the circus-people claimed. Born as a werewolf some thirty plus years ago, maybe thirty-five, and never caught, never even severely injured, aside from the fire. The one werewolf which no dog would trail, that broke every snare, avoided all the traps, which could not be killed by silver or fire, said the people who believed that it even existed.


    Lane was pretty sure that if she cut off the head it would die just like any other beast. If she could only get close enough...


    It had been eight years since she had last managed, back when she was seventeen, after her father and her husband had died and she had just started hunting alone. Twice had she gotten close, and twice had she missed. And then she had lost the bloody trail in the Crucible Ridge.


    She wouldn¡¯t miss a third time.


    For two days, the snowstorm raged, and even the locals agreed that it was quite early in the year for this kind of bad weather. On the third day, the sun broke through, and on the fourth day, enough of the snow had melted that Lane could finally risk continuing her journey. The road had turned to sludge, of course, a sticky mire of mud and slush and leftover mounds of snow. The icy wind blowing through the forest from the north did not make the journey easier. No matter how much she rushed the Grey, they barely managed the eight miles to the next coaching inn that day, and Lane had to wait another night before they finally rode into New Market.


    The town wasn¡¯t much bigger than the settlement around the inn where she had seen the wanted poster. Again, a coaching inn stood in the centre, a small market place outside its gates, and a few crude wooden houses around that. There was, however, a fairly large natural clearing south of the town, which had been turned into fields. And just outside the town, enclosed in its own palisades, was the pig farm Lane had been told about.


    It was surprisingly large and seemed pretty well secured.


    Lane rode around the place, but couldn¡¯t easily see where the werewolf might have gotten in. Or had it killed the pigs somewhere outside? Pigs were remarkably resilient against the Rot, pigs and goats both, and could therefore be driven into the trees for pannage.


    Lane suspected that they just ate the Rot, too.


    When she had a closer look at the gates, to see if they were secured with silver, a man came running outside, wearing a dirty leather apron, an ancient musket in hands, and yelled: ¡°Hey, you! What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Lane raised her hands in appeasement. ¡°I was told you¡¯re looking for a werewolf hunter.¡±


    The man lowered the gun, threw his head back, and started laughing.


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me,¡± he finally asked. ¡°You¡¯re a woman!¡±


    Lane sighed inwardly. She¡¯d had this argument way too many times.


    ¡°Do you want this werewolf dead or not?¡± she gave back. ¡°No one else will be out this far before spring, if at all.¡±


    The man cursed, a long string of blasphemy that made Lane wince, no matter how hard she tried not to. Eventually, the man looked back and forth between her and the Grey, muttering, ¡°sun¡¯s bloody ashes,¡± and shaking his head.


    ¡°You really a hunter?¡± he added, staring at the crossbow attached to the saddle.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°You from them mountains?¡± he asked, and pointed west.


    Lane could only guess that he meant the Central Ranges.


    ¡°Only, we hear strange things about them people from them mountains.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m from Deva,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Running from the bloody Church, are you? Heard the new bishop gets real riled up about cross-dressers, huh? Fucking Valoise.¡±


    He spat on the ground.


    ¡°Something like that,¡± Lane said, and somehow managed to keep a bland face. She was not cross-dressing. She wore a proper skirt and all! A riding skirt, yes, but still, she was not showing her legs for all the world to see like some common harlot. She wore a skirt and a blouse, decent clothes for a woman, surely he could see that?


    But it was safer to let him believe that she was running from the Church. People out here worshiped strange, barbaric gods, or even worse things, and they hated the Church of Mithras. So she ground her teeth together and tried not to show the anger seething in her veins.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Chester. Lane Chester.¡±


    ¡°Gale,¡± said the man. ¡°Peter Gale.¡±


    ¡°So, can you tell me about this werewolf?¡± Lane got back to the business at hand. ¡°I hear tell it¡¯s been killing pigs.¡±


    ¡°Hell yes, the mad fucker,¡± Gale grunted. ¡°See, it all started more¡¯n a month ago. It¡¯s late, there¡¯s a knock on the door, I go and open, and I look in these huge, yellow eyes, and I think, holy shit, I¡¯m dead. Cause it¡¯s just another night till full moon, you know? Shouldn¡¯t have opened the bloody door, but I figured a werewolf wouldn¡¯t knock, old gods curse me. Bloody monster stands there and has the balls to smile at me, asking for food. I tell it to get lost, of course. Don¡¯t like beggars, and don¡¯t like monsters begging even less. Found the remains of the first dead pig the next morning. Had one missing every single week since then. Four in total, now, and I reckon the bitch¡¯ll be back tonight, or tomorrow at the latest.¡±


    Probably not tomorrow night, since that would be new moon. Also, not every single week, if he had lost four pigs in the past six, but Lane didn¡¯t bother to point that out.


    ¡°In that case, would you mind if I stay the night here on the premises?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Not at all, Miss, not at all.¡±


    Lane smiled grimly and looked up into the sky. Thank Mithras, the hunt was on.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back as soon as it gets dark,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll need to buy some supplies in town. How¡¯s this area for the Rot?¡±


    ¡°Oh, Miss, you don¡¯t wanna go in between the trees without some proper protection,¡± the farmer said, shaking his head. ¡°Swing by the smithy, and they¡¯ll set you up with a decent cap or helmet if you got the coin on you.¡±


    Lane just nodded, and rode on into the town proper, mulling over what he had told her. Four dead pigs since the full moon before last, no wonder that the man had put up a bounty. If this continued he¡¯d be broke long before the winter ended.


    People in town seemed peculiarly unconcerned about the werewolf.


    ¡°Old Piggy Gale, huh? Serves him right, the bastard,¡± said the woman at the little butchery where Lane bought dried meat and ham, food that would keep, in case this didn¡¯t go as planned.


    ¡°What about the werewolf?¡± Lane asked.


    The woman shrugged. ¡°Never seen it. Never hurt a human, either, as far as anyone in town knows. Oh, I hope that stingy bastard chokes on his pig rinds one of these days!¡±


    Lane left the butchery shaking her head.


    ¡°Be careful, Miss,¡± said the young girl in the bakery Lane entered next. She looked left and right as if to make sure no one listened, even though Lane was the only customer, and added: ¡°Old Piggy got a bad case of them wandering hands if you catch my meaning.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Lane said.


    New Market had a fairly large general store, where she rounded out her supplies with beans and matches and all the other minor things that could become major out in the wild if one didn¡¯t have them. The well-stocked shelves and the large choice of wares made it obvious that silver miners shopped here, too. She bought some warm boots and mittens while she was there, long wool stockings as well, just in case of another snowfall.


    Lane¡¯s last stop was the smithy. The smith was a tall, wiry man, with leathery skin and deep-seated eyes. He glared at Lane as if she had talked ill about his mother, and charged an arm and a leg for a silver-lined cap made of sheep¡¯s leather and fur. Lane seriously considered walking out again ¨C a whole gold coin for a piece of clothing that couldn¡¯t contain more than a couple of coins¡¯ weight of silver? If only she had been better prepared! It wasn¡¯t like she didn¡¯t have a fully coated helmet at home!


    But going into the forest without any protection was suicide. And she wouldn¡¯t let the Morgulon get away a third time.


    So she paid a full gold coin for a bloody ugly winter hat, decorated with some silver wire drawing heathen symbols. And then she spent the night sitting in a pigsty, a dirty, stinking pigsty. Which was probably still marginally better than spending the night in a room with Piggy Gale, who really did have wandering hands.


    It was long past midnight when there was finally movement. Lane jumped a little, cursing herself for almost dozing off. The only light was the starlight coming in through the small window, but Lane could hear just fine: The pigs, which had snored peacefully a moment ago, were waking up all around her, snorting, and grunting, and moving about. Lane got to her feet as quietly as it was possible in the straw of the pigsty. A moment later, she could hear the door, a much softer sound than she had expected. It opened only a tiny, narrow inch, showing the night sky on the other side. For a second, Lane could see the tips of three pale fingers, and thought she heard someone sniffing. The next moment, somebody was running outside, no longer trying to be quiet.


    Lane cursed and threw herself at the door, fumbling to get after the monster on the other side. How the hell had it known? How had it smelled her even among the pigs, even in its human form?


    She brought her crossbow around as soon as she was out of the pigsty, suddenly glad that it had been so dark inside because now the night outside seemed bright and she could clearly see the lithe form that was just cresting over the top of the palisades. She aimed without even thinking about it and cursed softly when the creature let go just as she pulled the trigger. Still, she could hear a hiss of pain and a thump, when the body crashed to the ground.


    Lane hurried to open the main gate and found blood, and also footprints, which turned into paw prints after a few yards.


    The splatter of blood continued.


    Lane had to take a deep breath to stop herself from yelling in triumph. She had hit her prey. She had hit it with silver, and now its time was up. All she had to do was follow the blood trail, and finish what her father had started more than two and a half decades ago.


    She hurried back into the yard of the pig farm, where the Grey was waiting for her, packed with everything she might need on this hunt. It would be a short one, at this point. Silver was toxic for werewolves. The Morgulon would never see the moon rise again. The legend would die tonight.


    Lane climbed into the saddle and charged after the monster that was hiding somewhere in the forest.


    Less than fifty yards later, she had to slow the Grey down. It was dark between the conifers, and she had to light a torch or she would have lost the trail. Possibly her head, too.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she whispered, trying to calm herself. The wound wasn¡¯t closing, and it was just a matter of time till the silver or the blood loss finished the beast.


    But no, that wouldn¡¯t do. She wanted to be there, to see the light go out in its eyes. Just like the light had died in her mother¡¯s eyes, right in her arms. It was almost new moon. She would cut the monster¡¯s throat and watch its life bleed out into the dirt. She would cut it open slowly, watch it writhe in pain until its last breath got caught in its throat. She¡¯d wear its pelt as a cloak, and mount its head above her fireplace, even if that meant she couldn¡¯t collect all the bounties for it.


    Dreams of revenge kept Lane awake while she followed the trail deeper and deeper into the forest. Sometimes she saw movement between the shadows, but the bloody ugly cap that had cost her a whole gold coin seemed to at least hold what its maker had promised. She never felt any of the influence of the Rot. The Grey started to prance nervously, though.


    When the morning dawned, Lane finally gave in and allowed herself and her horse a short break, time to drink and eat a little. The wounded werewolf had been swifter on its feet than she had expected. Not that it really mattered. It was new moon day. Even the Morgulon couldn¡¯t remain wolf now.


    Lane climbed back into the saddle and hurried the Grey onward. There were clouds gathering on the horizon, bright, white clouds that threatened more snow. She wanted to be back at New Market before it started to fall.


    It couldn¡¯t be much further. In the soft ground next to a small creek, she found human footprints, of naked feet. They led into the water. But not out again on the other side.


    Lane cursed. She had almost forgotten who she was hunting, that this was the Morgulon, the creature that had evaded her father for years, and stymied every other hunter who had come after it.


    Upstream, or downstream?


    She went upstream first, because downstream was a steep hillside, which would be a pain to climb if she had to turn back. She had to get out of the saddle anyway, to make things easier for the Grey. The water was icy cold, even through her boots, and it was hard to imagine that the werewolf had walked far within the creek.


    Still, there was no trace of it.


    Lane kept pushing on, arguing with herself. How far might the monster have gotten? Had it even walked in this direction? But if it had, and she turned too early...


    Lane swore again and kept going forward.


    When she reached a waterfall too high and slippery to be easily scaled, and there was still no trace of the Morgulon, Lane had to admit that she had probably picked the wrong direction.


    And it was almost noon already.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Lane whispered, but there was nothing to be done about it. She needed a break, maybe a couple of hours of sleep, and her stallion needed some time to graze.


    The only thing that reconciled her a little with the situation was the fact that the werewolf probably needed a rest as well.


    A couple of hours later, Lane rode downstream, as fast as the Grey could safely carry her, and maybe a little faster. They passed the point where the Morgulon had entered the water, and then Lane had to walk again because the slope of the hill was too steep. Where it tapered out into a wide, open meadow, she found more blood. It was damn strange that the Morgulon would leave the stream here, of all places, where a horse would move much quicker than in the forest.


    It still took Lane half an hour after she lost the short trail to realize that she had been played once more.


    When she finally found the real trail again, barely visible on the rocky ground, the sun was already low over the horizon. She should be turning back, Lane knew that. She should be turning back while she still knew which direction to go. It was one thing to follow a trail for days or even weeks in the safety of the heartlands. Out here, with winter approaching quickly, it was suicide.


    She reined in her horse, but as she hesitated, she could hear the echoes of her father¡¯s sermons.


    ¡°The company of saints won¡¯t make the sinner holy,¡± he had used to say. Only through supreme acts of faith could someone like her find atonement.


    For men, that wasn¡¯t complicated: They could just join one of the crusades and earn absolution for all their sins, even paradise, by fighting the unbelievers. A woman like Lane wasn¡¯t allowed to fight in the army of the faithful, though, that wasn¡¯t her lot in life. She should be birthing sons to her god-fearing husband and raise them in the faith of Mithras.


    Except that Lane knew that she could never be a good mother.


    No, for her the only way to atonement was to hunt evil to the best of her abilities.


    So she prompted the Grey into the trees.


    The horse was noticeably exhausted by now, his footing less sure, and his breath becoming more laboured with every yard they travelled.


    ¡°Just a little bit further,¡± Lane said, rubbing his neck with one hand. ¡°We¡¯ll stop at the first half-decent campsite, I promise.¡±


    By the time she found a place, right next to a tiny little creek, the Grey was stumbling rather than walking, even though she had gotten out of the saddle to lead him on. There was no other choice but to give him a proper rest, not just a couple of hours. When Lane lit a small fire in the clearing, she found more blood, covering a heap of old leaves, as if the Morgulon had stayed right here. It was fairly fresh, too.


    For a few seconds, Lane wanted to push on, to drive the Grey onwards and after the monster, but there was no point in riding a good horse to death. On foot and in the dark, her chances of catching the beast were nil.


    When Lane woke up, it had began to snow. She considered swearing some more, but it didn¡¯t seem to help in any case, so she saved her breath. The Grey was laying on his side and didn¡¯t get up when Lane did. When she checked his hooves, she found a small stone stuck in one of them. He kicked wildly when she pulled it out, but finally got up again.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Lane muttered.


    It really didn¡¯t help.


    The snow didn¡¯t let up, either. The Grey could walk, but if Lane rushed him too much, he would start to lame. After less than a hundred yards, Lane gave up and led the horse over to the meagre shelter of a steep cliff. She left him there to find some wood. She¡¯d been lucky so far that the Rot hadn¡¯t shown up, but she¡¯d need a fire if she wanted to survive another night in the wilderness.


    That was when she found the place where the Morgulon had spent the night. Where the blood had pooled, it hadn¡¯t even dried yet.


    Lane raced back to the Grey, who wasn¡¯t happy at all. But the trail was right there, fresh enough that the footsteps hadn¡¯t filled with fresh snow yet. It led up the mountain again, and the temperature dropped with every yard they climbed. The wind was howling through the trees, whipping the snow into Lane¡¯s face. The Grey was panting with every step, but he was soldiering on through the storm. Where ever Lane found the blood of the trail, it was still fresh. If the fir and pine trees weren¡¯t standing quite so densely, Lane was pretty sure that they would have been able to see the werewolf.


    They never got a glimpse of it, though. Night fell early, and it was still getting colder. Lane tried to get a fire going, but the best she managed was to build a makeshift shelter between two big fir trees, which caught most of the snow and at least some of the wind. The next morning, Lane could barely even see over the snowbank she had created. The world around them was white, and there wasn¡¯t a single trace of the Morgulon. If there was any blood, it was buried under the snow.


    Lane looked around, shivering, and felt her heart sink. She had a lame horse and no idea where she was, and her prey had escaped in the whiteout. And it was still snowing, so she couldn¡¯t even see if maybe there was a settlement down in the valley.


    Lane took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. A plume of white appeared when she exhaled. There was no point in panicking. There never was. And without knowing where she was, there probably wasn¡¯t much chance to make it back to something approaching civilization.


    ¡°Do not fear death,¡± she whispered the first line of her father¡¯s favourite prayer. But she couldn¡¯t remember the rest of it.


    However, she could complete the hunt. There was still a chance. The werewolf couldn¡¯t have gotten far. It was just a matter of time for the silver to finish it ¨C hell, it might even be already dead. But she had to be sure.


    She could do this.


    Soon, her hands and feet were so cold that she couldn¡¯t feel them anymore, but she kept repeating the words in her head: ¡°I can do this.¡±


    Right until the Grey fell away underneath her and didn¡¯t get up again. He had given her his everything, and she had failed anyway.


    Lane climbed out of the saddle and curled up next to the stallion, cradling his head in her icy fingers. There was nothing she could do for him now, besides sparing him some pain.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she whispered, as she cut his throat, stroking his fur until she was sure that he was gone, and then a little longer.


    She should move away. All that blood would attract the Rot, and there was most certainly a limit of how many of the creatures her ugly hat would repel. But the best she could manage was a couple of yards to where a few shrubs had formed a natural windscreen. She spent a while trying to start a fire, but the gale and the snow made it impossible. She should have been moving around, moving away, rubbing her hands together to get the blood flowing again. But she was too tired to do anything but curl into the tightest ball she could manage.


    ¡°Only a fool goes to sleep in the middle of a snowstorm,¡± she could hear her father gripe. But this whole hunt had been foolish. She should have turned around when the Grey started laming ¨C no, when she saw the snow clouds, or even when she didn¡¯t find the Morgulon by the end of the first day.


    She knew that it was the cold that was dragging her under. And that was fine with her.

 Chapter 14

    Lane woke up warm, almost uncomfortably so. In front of her face, there was nothing but snow, but behind her was something, something hot. Something huge, and furry, and breathing. Lane¡¯s questing fingers felt something wet and sticky, and then her mind finally shook off the last of the sleepiness.


    The Morgulon was right behind her, curled up against her back.


    Lane rolled away from her, onto her feet, to stare at the monster in shocked surprise.


    The werewolf didn¡¯t stir. Its eyes were open, tracking her, but it didn¡¯t move. Lane wasn¡¯t sure it could. The wound on its shoulder was a huge, festering mess, still oozing blood and other fluids, and its flanks were so sunken and gaunt that Lane could count every rib.


    This was her chance. Her chance to end it. To do what the Grey had sacrificed his life for. She fumbled for her silver knife, her fingers moving terribly sluggish. The Morgulon made no attempt to flee. It just closed its eyes, and Lane couldn¡¯t even see it breathing any longer.


    She took a step towards the monster. She wanted to kneel down at its side and finish the job, but she couldn¡¯t move. Not a single muscle, no matter how hard she fought.


    Something was rustling behind her.


    Slowly, dimly, Lane grew aware of the pain around her skull, and the smell of rotten meat and fetid swamps in her nose, just before the paralysis made it impossible to breathe altogether.


    ¡°Hello beautiful,¡± a voice whispered inside her head. It sounded like Maxence¡¯s, her dead husband¡¯s, voice. She could smell the alcohol on his breath ¨C ¡°godly men don¡¯t overindulge in the grape, are you calling me an ungodly man, wench?¡± ¨C and she could feel his huge hand gripping her arm, shaking it, as if he wanted her to drop the knife. Lane¡¯s fingers only cramped tighter around the hilt ¨C ¡°Relax, honey, it won¡¯t hurt at all¡± ¨C One questing hand was travelling up her leg, pinching her butt, and then further up her spine, finally caressing her lower jaw roughly.


    Yet another hand was still gripping Lane¡¯s arm. She wanted to scream, but didn¡¯t have the air to do so, when her weak fingers opened without her saying so and dropped the knife.


    Morgulon¡¯s head snapped up as soon as the silver blade vanished in the snow, and it barked. Lane dropped like a sack of potatoes when the thing that held her up let go, and she gasped for air. She tried to crane her neck, but her vision was too blurry to see anything.


    The werewolf barked again. Lane¡¯s vision cleared a little and she got a first look at the Rot-thing that had grabbed her. Its body was fairly small, no bigger than a human head, but lifted up high by a multitude of very long, very thin legs, like the ugliest spider in existence.


    Lane blinked and the spider blurred again. The air was warm, suddenly, hot, sweltering. There was a fire burning in the hearth, and the walls were closing in on her ¨C the windows were barred and a huge man stood between her and the door ¨C ¡°You¡¯re my wife now, beautiful, better learn to please your husband,¡± ¨C


    A dog barked outside ¨C no, not a dog. And not outside. A werewolf. Which stood only a couple of yards away from her in the freezing snow.


    A tree had walked out from amongst the others, covered in lichen and fungus. It circled the tiny camp, looking unbalanced and awkward, walking on roots that had never been meant to carry it. It turned a little from left to right, as if trying to get a better look at the werewolf, despite the fact that it had no eyes. The spider, in one disturbing movement, jumped to its side, and then there were four more Rot-creatures. One second, there were two, and then she blinked, and suddenly there were four ¨C no, six of them. Lane couldn¡¯t look at them directly, but out of the corner of her eyes, she saw them all repeating the same weird half-turning motion the walking tree had done.


    When the six Rot-monsters took a step forward, Lane could feel herself sink into the darkness of memory again. But then Morgulon growled and as long as the echo lasted, the clearing came into focus again.


    Something else was approaching. ¡°If you think I¡¯ll let you run away into the forests you got another thing coming,¡± ¨C Lane could feel it before she could see it: a wave of sickness that came over her, terribly familiar. She had felt the same nausea a couple of months ago when the three Rot monsters had become one through the idiotic duke¡¯s amulet.


    The thing that broke through the trees was nearly as big as the Rot-bulldog the Feleke-wolf had destroyed, but shrouded in some kind of mist, except that her head and eyes hurt when she tried to look at it. The other six creatures moved forward in step with it, over towards the dead horse.


    The Morgulon heaved itself up onto its feet, and balancing on just three legs, hobbled forward to grip the closest Rot monster with its teeth, cutting it in two halves as if the Rot was made of butter.


    Lane blinked. Was this real? Was this just another illusion, something to make her let down her guard? But what guard? There was nothing she could do to fight this foul magic!


    But it couldn¡¯t be real, could it, Lane wondered while the Morgulon did the same thing to the next three of the smaller creatures. Even the walking tree went down as if it was just a blade of gras. It didn¡¯t even have a chance to struggle. The Morgulon clamped its teeth around the trunk, bit down, and shook its head once, and the pieces of the Rot went flying everywhere.


    The werewolf growled softly at the biggest of the monsters, just a warning, Lane thought. But there was power in that growl, power bright as the sun. Lane stared at the huge Rot-monster that was suddenly clearly visible. It was certainly as heavy as the one the Feleke-wolf had fought, but taller. It looked more like an insect, with too many legs and a body that seemed to be parted into segments.


    The wounded she-wolf couldn¡¯t dance with the thing as that Feleke had, and it didn¡¯t even try. It just sidestepped the first charge and caught the insect between what would be the head and the second segment. And when the werewolf shook, the Rot-head went flying.


    Lane hurried to throw herself aside before it rolled into her lap.


    Two, three more bites from Morgulon, and the thing was nothing more than rotten leaves, a heap of fungus, and firewood. The last creature to die, equally fast, was the spider-thing that had grabbed Lane.


    The huntress sagged back into the snow and stared, stunned. Then she rubbed at her eyes, pinched herself. It hurt.


    So this was real. The Rot was dead. Destroyed.


    Somehow, she was still alive.


    Lane stared at the misshapen head that had nearly rolled onto her lap. She couldn¡¯t help herself, she picked up the silver knife and gingerly poked the dead wood. There was no reaction. No reaction at all. Not even the sizzle that occurred when werewolf-blood touched the silver.


    She dropped the blade into the snow again, shaking. There¡¯d been no time to get scared when the Rot had first shown up, but the panic was catching up with her now. Lane wasn¡¯t scared of dying on a hunt ¨C or rather, that was a risk she was willing to take. She wasn¡¯t even all that scared of being bitten. She was sure she¡¯d be able to put a silver blade to her wrists should it happen. But this was something else.


    The Rot was ¨C Lane shuddered again, wrapping her arms around herself before looking around at the clearing full of Rot-corpses. She couldn¡¯t fight the Rot, couldn¡¯t even put up a token of resistance like against Maxence. Because the Rot could turn her own mind against her. It took everything, corrupted everything it touched ¨C there was no escaping that terrible power ¨C unless...


    Lane didn¡¯t know how long she sat there in the snow, first shaking with fear, and then with the cold that was seeping into her bones. Every now and then, she glanced over towards the werewolf, who was feeding on the carcass of the Grey, every movement slow and visibly painful.


    The werewolf was dying. It had lasted a lot longer than Lane had expected, held up better with the silver bolt than she had ever thought possible, but there was no doubt that it was coming to the end of whatever strength had kept it alive. All that horse meat could, at this point, barely delay the inevitable.


    Lane laughed softly, a little hysterically. She had done it. She had killed the Morgulon. She could just walk away from the clearing and be secure in the knowledge that within another night, maybe two, her job would be done.


    It was suddenly a very terrifying thought.


    Lane took off the ugly winter hat she had bought at New Market. She had really thought that the cap alone had kept her alive. What foolishness! As if a couple of coins¡¯ weight in silver could do that! It probably wasn¡¯t even a bad protection, but looking at what had shown up at the clearing, there was just no way it had kept the Rot away alone.


    No. She was only safe from the Rot as long as she was within a hundred yards of where the Morgulon was.


    Lane glanced over towards the werewolf again. The werewolf had allowed the Rot to come into their camp, hadn¡¯t it? The smaller creatures at the very least? It clearly could have stopped them easily. So why hadn¡¯t it? To scare her?


    If that had been its plan, it was working, sun, was it working.


    How many days would it take her to get back to New Market? She didn¡¯t even know which direction she needed to go to get back to the road!


    Plenty of time for the Rot to catch up with her.


    Lane stared at the snow all around her and struggled to fight down the terror that gripped her at the thought of leaving this tiny, protected spot. As cold as her feet were, there was no way she was moving.


    That was, until Morgulon started to paw the saddle that was still on the Grey, to get to the meat underneath.


    Lane swore softly at the sight and hurried over, never taking her eyes off the huge shaggy beast, while she struggled to take the saddle off the carcass before the werewolf could try and eat that, too. She dragged it a good distance away, back to where she had cowered in the snow, and began to check her saddlebags. To Lane¡¯s annoyance, her crossbow was missing. Or maybe Morgulon had buried it in the snow while Lane hadn¡¯t been paying attention. But she still had some food left, since she hadn¡¯t been able to bring herself to eat the last couple of nights, so she might as well have some breakfast.


    Lane had to burn the greasy paper in which her last piece of ham had been wrapped to get a fire started, and soon their small campsite smelled of pine resin. Which was a little strange, because Lane was mostly burning parts of the Rot.


    The Morgulon stayed away from the flames, with the dead horse. Lane picked up her silver knife again but placed it in its scabbard. As slow as the werewolf was moving, Lane felt there was no point in keeping the blade in hand all the time and the silver would just tarnish even more.


    She ate the last of the ham for breakfast and boiled some snow to make tea. Every movement she made, the werewolf watched, and Lane jumped a little every time the beast stirred. But the werewolf seemed to have no intention to walk away from the dead horse or attack Lane, and so they each stayed on their side of the little clearing.


    More clouds moved across the sky, and it started to snow again. It felt heavy, oppressive, as if the grey sky were about to smother the whole mountain flank. Lane¡¯s head was pounding and she wondered if the Rot was close again. The thought made her inch closer to her meagre fire.


    She jumped when the Morgulon got up and dragged itself back towards the snowbank it had slept behind. To get out of the wind that had picked up again, Lane guessed.


    With the werewolf only a couple of yards away, the pressure on her skull vanished again. Lane cursed inwardly and stared into the falling darkness. She couldn¡¯t see anything in the shadows, but that didn¡¯t mean anything.


    Could the creature understand her, the way the Feleke-wolf had understood? But what would she even say? She really wanted to know why the Morgulon had shared body heat to save her, but that wasn¡¯t a question the wolf could answer with a nod or a shake of its head.


    Why didn¡¯t it turn human, anyway? Most werewolves seemed to prefer their human form when the moon was less than half full. Or was that because of the cold?


    ¡°My name is Lane,¡± she said suddenly, surprising herself a little. The Morgulon didn¡¯t react, though. Its eyes were closed again, and its breathing was shallow. Blood was darkening the fur. Lane stared at her handiwork, then at the silent trees again. She couldn¡¯t see or smell the Rot, but she had no doubt it would be all over her before the werewolf¡¯s body had cooled.


    Lane took a deep breath herself. ¡°I¡¯m going to try to get that bolt out of your shoulder, okay?¡± she asked because, damn it, she could not sit here and watch the creature die on this mountain. Not yet.


    Lane did not want to die by the Rot ¨C suffocated by the stink, paralysed, caught in the memories of the worst moments of her life.


    ¡°And then you can help me get back to the road safely. Deal?¡±


    Again, there was no reaction.


    All right, maybe she had to show some goodwill first.


    When she stepped closer to the werewolf and pulled a knife, a normal blade made of steel, from its scabbard, the Morgulon didn¡¯t even flinch.


    This was why the werewolf had saved her, right? And why it had allowed the Rot to scare her? Because it needed her help.


    Lane ground her teeth together and stepped even closer to the werewolf, then kneeled down carefully. Mithras damn her, but she wouldn¡¯t let the Rot take her.


    Even if the damn werewolf had somehow orchestrated the earlier attack just to shock her into helping. Was that even possible?


    Lane¡¯s right hand, holding the knife, shook violently, and she couldn¡¯t make herself look at the wound, could only stare at the huge head full of gleaming, cursed teeth. Blindly, her left hand dug into the fur around the injury, until she felt blood.


    With another steadying breath, Lane put the knife down into the snow and made herself look at the mess her bolt had made of Morgulon¡¯s shoulder. The silvertip had barbs meant to bury even deeper into the flesh, and buried they had. At some point in time, Morgulon must have tried to tear out the bolt, but all that had accomplished was that the wooden shaft had broken, and the flesh had been torn even more.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to cut this out,¡± Lane said, her voice a little strangled. Her hands were shaking the most, and it didn¡¯t help that the beast was still not giving any sign of whether or not it understood what Lane was about to do.


    ¡°All right,¡± Lane whispered to herself because she didn¡¯t know what else to do. ¡°I¡¯m no doctor,¡± she added. ¡°But I¡¯m pretty sure this¡¯ll hurt.¡±


    With an effort of will, she managed to still her fingers. Slowly, very slowly, she put the fingertips of her right hand onto the wound, holding her breath. When the werewolf still didn¡¯t stir, she exhaled deeply, and added her left hand. As gently as she could, she began to feel for the parts of the bolthead she couldn¡¯t see, until she was fairly sure she knew exactly where it was.


    Now she had to make the first cut.


    ¡°Do not bite me,¡± she muttered, trying to gather her courage. When she stared down at the place where she had put down the knife, she saw movement out of the corner of her eyes, the faintest rustling of the werewolf¡¯s tail in the snow. As if it was wagging only with the tip of it.


    ¡°Right,¡± Lane muttered. ¡°I¡¯m going to take that as an agreement.¡±


    When the knife cut into the swollen and angry red flesh around the barb, the werewolf finally moved, a short, weak flinch. It didn¡¯t try to push Lane away, though, so it probably did understand that she was trying to help, despite the fact that she¡¯d been the one who had fired the bolt at it in the first place.


    Red blood welled from the fresh cut, followed by a trickle of yellowish discharge that made Lane swallow hard to stop herself from gagging. She didn¡¯t stop cutting, though, even when more blood welled up, until she could grip what was left of the wooden shaft and pull the bolthead out. It came loose in a wave of fresh red blood and a little more pus, and while Lane was still staring at the wound, wondering whether she had just killed the werewolf, the creature changed, the injury moving from its side to its back, as the shoulders rearranged themselves. The fresh cuts Lane had just made were gone, but the rest of the wound remained. On the pale, human skin the angry red of the inflammation was even starker.


    ¡°I ¨C uh ¨C I think I have some bandages,¡± Lane muttered.


    Morgulon looked at her, its head turned as much as possible. The weird, wolfish golden eyes blinked once. ¡°No,¡± it said. And then the human was gone again.


    Lane stumbled backwards when she found herself face to face with the beast, feeling a little stupid.


    On the positive side, at least the werewolf seemed to have some understanding of the spoken word. Maybe communication was actually possible.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    For a while, Morgulon just lay on her side ¨C no, its side, it was a monster, she couldn¡¯t forget that! ¨C its breath coming in short, laboured huffs. It didn¡¯t seem to be interested in Lane at all, never looking up when Lane stoked the fire. It made a few attempts to lick the wound on its shoulder, but couldn¡¯t quite reach, and eventually, it seemed to fall asleep.


    Lane waited a little longer, until she was sure that the werewolf was out cold, then crept up again, to have a closer look. Not at the fresh injury at the shoulder, but at the old scar on the left half of the face, the large burn. The muzzle and a patch right underneath the eye were fine, but there was no fur growing between the eye and ear, and what fur was growing from the forehead all the way down to the jaw was thinner than on the right side. There were more patches along the neck, the back, and both shoulders where the fur thinned.


    Half its body must have been burned, and yet it had somehow survived. Even though fire was supposed to kill especially those monsters cursed by the Sun God. Just like silver was supposed to be especially deadly to werewolves, and yet the Morgulon had survived for days with the bolt lodged into its skin.


    Any other werewolf Lane had ever hunted would have been dead before the moon rose again after new moon.


    ¡°So why didn¡¯t you die?¡± Lane whispered to herself. ¡°What makes you so damn special?¡±


    There was no answer, of course.


    They stayed for another two nights with the dead horse, despite the fact that the Rot was drawn to the same place. Lane didn¡¯t have to look for firewood once. Instead, the dead wood came to them. Lane burned as much of the Rot as possible and was shocked when Morgulon tried to eat the other parts.


    On the morning of the third day, Lane was woken by someone poking her. She jerked awake, grunting, and saw Morgulon, crouched low, as far away from the little campfire as she could manage, but with one paw extended to poke Lane in the side.


    The large tongue was lolling out of her mouth, and Lane got the strange impression that the werewolf was grinning at her.


    When she was sure that Lane was awake, the huge wolf got up and limped to the edge of the camp, then back towards Lane.


    Lane stared. After a few seconds, she rubbed her eyes to be sure she was actually awake.


    ¡°Ready to leave, are you?¡± Lane muttered.


    She should have been awake hours ago, damn it!


    She had expected the werewolf to leave today: Since last night, there was nothing left of Lane¡¯s dead horse; Morgulon had found every last scrap of meat, and chewed through every bone to get to the marrow. So Lane had expected her to move on soon. She just hadn¡¯t thought that the werewolf would wake her up before she did.


    ¡°Right,¡± Lane muttered when the werewolf wagged her tail a little. ¡°I just need a moment.¡±


    She had compiled a list, in her head, of the things she would take and the things she would leave with the saddle which she had no way of carrying, but when she started emptying the saddlebags, Morgulon came limping over, scratching the leather. When Lane stared at her blankly, the werewolf bit into the leather, dragging it a few inches over the frozen ground, then let go and turned her head as far as she could.


    Lane felt her jaw go slack. ¡°You want to carry this?¡±


    Morgulon shook her head but began to dig out those things Lane had decided to leave behind, fabric for bandages, her small hatchet, a long rope, and smaller strings to make traps, some dirty clothes, though she wore most of the clothes she had brought. Lane watched for a minute while the werewolf fought to open the latches with her paws until it finally dawned on her what Morgulon was trying to tell her.


    ¡°Not the saddle. But this stuff?¡±


    That earned her a proper nod, not just a wagging tail


    ¡°Right,¡± Lane muttered and began to string together what she had. Morgulon watched impatiently for a while, but eventually turned her back on Lane, and sniffed around the remains of the horse some more without luck.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do about finding some food,¡± Lane promised, since it was pretty clear that Morgulon wouldn¡¯t be able to hunt with her bad shoulder. It had barely healed at all, and Lane wondered how far Morgulon would be able to walk.


    It took some time to fix the bundle Lane had tied onto the werewolf¡¯s back, especially since Morgulon did not seem particularly interested in the process, despite the fact that this had been her idea. She didn¡¯t stop her foraging, while Lane tried to find a position for her things that would stop them from sliding off Morgulon¡¯s back, without aggravating the injured shoulder any more.


    When they were finally ready, Lane let the werewolf lead the way, since she still had no idea where they were. Morgulon raised her head, sniffed the air, and then set out along the flank of the mountain. South, as far as Lane could tell. Her compass was annoyingly unreliable in these mountains, so she could only judge from the sun.


    New Market should be north of them, Lane was almost certain.


    ¡°Are we going back towards the coach road?¡± Lane asked.


    Morgulon wagged her tail once.


    ¡°Really?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Because we¡¯re going south, and the road should be north of here.¡±


    Morgulon paused, looked back at her, and sort of shrugged before she simply started limping forward again. When Lane didn¡¯t follow, the she-wolf stopped, wagged her tail some more, and stepped forward, waited again.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Lane swore, but she followed. Not that she had any other option.


    At least the werewolf seemed to have a clear goal of where she was going.


    There had to be other roads through the Argentum Formation, right? There were certainly other passes across the Crucible Ridge, and with silver in such high demand, surely there were some settlements all along the Formation?


    Lane could only hope so. She had never bothered to learn much about Loegrion¡¯s geography beyond the heartlands.


    It was slow going. Morgulon needed two breaks before it was even noon, and she was still leaving a thin trail of blood in the snow. Lane was a little amazed that she hadn¡¯t bled to death yet.


    She still looked starved, though, as if she hadn¡¯t eaten a whole horse over the past few days. When Lane thought about it, she wondered if maybe the werewolf was needing all that sustenance to replenish the blood she was losing. If that was true, what would happen if she had to go without food for a night or two?


    Morgulon collapsed after just a few hours, with a half-strangled whine, and didn¡¯t get up again. Lane bit her lips and had to force herself to step closer to the huge wolf. Suddenly she felt nervous again around the creature, though she wasn¡¯t sure herself if she was scared that Morgulon would attack her, or die on her.


    The monster was breathing unsteadily. Lane looked around nervously.


    ¡°Anything I can do to help?¡± Lane asked, and took the pack off of Morgulon¡¯s back.


    The werewolf did not react.


    ¡°If you can tell me if the Rot is about, I could try to find some food,¡± Lane offered with a sigh. She wasn¡¯t even sure that the werewolf was able to reliable sense the Rot. But she needed to keep her alive, and all she could offer was food.


    Morgulon wagged with the tip of her tail.


    ¡°Does that mean I¡¯m safe to go?¡±


    In answer, the werewolf finally gave a clear reaction: The faintest nod of her head.


    Lane looked around. ¡°Sun, I hope you¡¯re right,¡± she muttered. She shouldered her crossbow, and set off again, even though her own legs were protesting. At first, she tried to stay within sight of where Morgulon lay, but all the game had fled. Finally, Lane squared her shoulders and set out in a straight line away from the werewolf.


    She had to keep the beast alive, at least until they reached a road. Or a settlement. Some modicum of civilization. Once they reached that...


    Lane bit her lips. She wasn¡¯t sure what she would do once they reached other people. Take Morgulon to the mad duke, as she had been ordered? Shoot her? Or let the werewolf go, just once, and head onwards towards Clyde¡¯s Pass?


    ¡°Worry about that later,¡± she whispered to herself. ¡°Find some game first.¡±


    She had really hoped for some mountain goats or sheep, something with a lot of meat, but couldn¡¯t find any trace. She was just about to give up for the day ¨C there was no way she would walk around the trees past dusk ¨C when several large birds took flight from the underbrush right in front of her. Lane shot without even thinking about it, the double crossbow singing twice. Two of the birds fell, and Lane collected them quickly. Some type of wood or mountain grouse, she guessed, when she examined her prize. Just one would have kept her fed for a couple of days, easily, but for a werewolf, it probably wasn¡¯t much more than a mouthful.


    It would have to be enough.


    The next day, it snowed some more, and Lane couldn¡¯t find any prey at all. Again, Morgulon only managed a few miles, and the day after, after a long night with no food, the werewolf wouldn¡¯t walk at all.


    Lane set out alone again and was finally lucky enough to shoot a young boar. She had to cut the game to pieces to carry it, and she was shaking with terror as much as with exhaustion by the time she had dragged all of the dead animal back to where she had left Morgulon. She had felt the Rot several times, but each time, Morgulon¡¯s bark had echoed through the trees. It made Lane wish she knew more about the werewolf¡¯s abilities.


    After the meal, Morgulon was at least strong enough to continue their journey.


    They reached the coach road several days later. Lane stared at the street that carved like a scar through the forest, then back at Morgulon.


    She could rid herself of the werewolf now. Finish the job and her revenge. Do as Mithras commanded.


    She knew she wouldn¡¯t, though.


    Maybe her father had been right, and there was something wrong with her, some taint deep inside that kept her from god. Because the conviction that had driven her for the past ten years? It had been shaken the moment Morgulon had destroyed the Rot.


    How could something be wrong, even cursed by Mithras, that so effortlessly destroyed the worst corruption in this world?


    Blasphemy, her father whispered in her ear.


    Morgulon gave no sign that she was going to walk away, either.


    Lane stared towards the East, then the West. Do as the duke had commanded, or run away?


    But she didn¡¯t feel like running. She had a home. A duty to her people.


    ¡°I need to find a settlement,¡± Lane said aloud. ¡°If you will wait in the forest close by, I can bring food. How does that sound?¡±


    Morgulon wagged her tail again, a sign of agreement, as Lane had learned by now.


    ¡°Do you want me to find clothes for you?¡±


    The werewolf shook her head at that.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s go east, all right?¡±


    Morgulon simply started walking in the direction Lane had named, and Lane wondered. Did the werewolf know where east was? Or had she simply picked a random direction and been lucky? Or had she meant to go in that direction anyway?


    And was this the same coach road Lane travelled before, or a different one?


    ¡°When I come back, I¡¯m going to need to talk to you,¡± Lane said.


    She was pretty sure Morgulon rolled her eyes at that.


    About an hour after lunch, they reached a settlement. Not New Market, which was a bit of a relief. Lane wouldn¡¯t have known what to tell people there. This one was just a roadhouse, and nothing more. Lane was almost certain that she had ridden past this place before.


    The guards questioned Lane for the better part of an hour. But her reputation had apparently even reached this flame-forsaken place and it was enough that they eventually let her into the main room of the inn. The innkeeper there confirmed that she had reached the main road. Lane stayed the night and bought as much food as she could carry the next day. She could feel the guards stare at her when she left on foot to find Morgulon.


    The werewolf stepped out of the forest as soon as Lane was out of sight from the inn, and she still didn¡¯t really look any better. The wound was still oozing fluids, and the skin around it was red, hot, and swollen when Lane checked. She tried to convince the werewolf to turn human, while Morgulon wolfed down the food she had brought, but was ignored.


    Who knew that werewolves liked bread?


    Walking on the road was much, much easier than through the forest, and despite Morgulon¡¯s injury, they reached the next coaching station, ten miles away, before the sun set. Just outside, Lane shot a lone boar that wandered across the street, bold as brass.


    It wasn¡¯t until Morgulon was happily feeding on the meat, just out of sight from the inn, and Lane stood at the gates of the roadhouse, that she looked up into the sky and realized that in less than an hour, the first night of full moon would be upon them.


    People at this place were very surprised when she knocked so late, but they accepted that she was a huntress who had lost her horse once she caught the silver tossed at her with her bare hands. Lane however sat awake for hours at night.


    If she wasn¡¯t going to shoot her, she needed to talk to Morgulon, to have an actual conversation about the future. And Morgulon would need to be human for it.


    But how to convince her to transform? It wasn¡¯t like Lane hadn¡¯t tried over the last few days. She had used every argument short of threatening the werewolf, and she was fairly sure that pointing another silver bolt at her wouldn¡¯t help convince Morgulon to listen.


    Lane stared at her wine glass. Threats wouldn¡¯t do her much good. But maybe bribery could work?


    The next morning, right before she left, Lane bought a bottle of the finest whiskey they had, mostly for herself, and also, though the prices out here were ridiculous, some honey cakes and candied fruits for Morgulon. Also enough bread and meat for a week of travel, or a single day for a werewolf.


    Morgulon was once again waiting for her just around the corner, only half-hidden behind the trees. Despite the cold, the werewolf was panting like a dog trying to cool down. Lane took a few steps into the forest and smiled when she found a fallen tree.


    ¡°I¡¯ve brought something special,¡± she said when Morgulon followed, and placed her offerings on the trunk. ¡°Have you ever had candied fruits? Or honey cakes? Yes?¡±


    She unpacked the cakes and watched Morgulon limp closer. There was something in the stiff-legged way the werewolf moved, the tail waving left and right hesitatingly, that made her think Morgulon knew exactly what she was talking about.


    ¡°I¡¯ll share,¡± Lane said. ¡°But not with a wolf.¡±


    Morgulon sniffed twice, and then stumbled forward in a hurry, changing shapes between one step and the next, much more elegantly than Greg had.


    ¡°So you¡¯ve had honey cakes before?¡± Lane asked.


    It took forever, but eventually, Morgulon nodded, her eyes fixed on the food. Her good hand ghosted up to the scar on her face, and she said: ¡°Before.¡±


    ¡°Before what?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Wait ¨C you mean before the fire? When you were with the circus?¡±


    Morgulon nodded without looking at her. Lane offered her a long woollen dress, to cover herself up, and Morgulon hesitated again, but eventually accepted the simple garment. Pulling it over her head seemed to take a lot of consideration as if she had to first remember how it was done. Then Lane had to help her with her bad shoulder.


    ¡°Food?¡± Morgulon asked, sounding hopeful, once she was dressed.


    Lane broke one of the cakes in two and handed one half over. Morgulon stared at her, never directly, but from the corner of her eye. Only when Lane took a bite herself did the werewolf start eating. As soon as she did, a smile crept over her face, and she closed her eyes.


    ¡°You like that?¡± Lane asked. ¡°You could have more food like this,¡± she added when Morgulon didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Regularly, I mean. If you come with me. There is a man ¨C Duke George Louis is his name. He is looking for werewolves to protect his workers from the Rot. So that they can build him a railway line.¡±


    Lane paused, unsure whether Morgulon was even listening. ¡°Do you ¨C do you understand that?¡±


    She had to wait a long, long time, but eventually, Morgulon said: ¡°Fight Rot. Get food. Yes. I understand.¡±


    ¡°And... would you be willing to come with me?¡±


    ¡°More food?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Lane muttered. She handed over a second honey cake and watched Morgulon break it apart slowly, carefully, savouring each piece.


    ¡°There will be more food, yes,¡± Lane promised. ¡°I will hunt some more, too. If you come with me.¡±


    ¡°Food first.¡±


    Lane huffed in frustration. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve brought more food. Bread, and butter, and sausages.¡± She sighed. ¡°We need to go to Eoforwic,¡± she continued. ¡°Do you know where that is?¡±


    ¡°Northern heartlands,¡± Morgulon said, surprising Lane.


    ¡°Yes ¨C yes, that¡¯s right. Do you know how far that is?¡±


    Morgulon seemed to think about that, looking up towards the sky, as if she could find an answer there, then back down onto her cake. ¡°Hundred and fifty miles?¡± she finally said. ¡°Two hundred?¡±


    Lane opened her mouth and closed it again, because, really, she didn¡¯t know it any more accurately, either. ¡°Right,¡± she finally managed. ¡°Are you willing to travel that far with me? And then work for the duke?¡±


    ¡°Work for food?¡±


    ¡°Yes, work for food. Maybe some money, as well. Copper,¡± she quickly added, because Morgulon flinched back. ¡°No silver.¡±


    ¡°Food,¡± Morgulon repeated, nodding to herself.


    Lane sighed but decided to take that as a yes.


    ¡°Help?¡± Morgulon added.


    ¡°Help with what?¡±


    Morgulon swallowed the last piece of her cake and pointed at her injured shoulder.


    ¡°I ¨C I don¡¯t know how to help you,¡± Lane said. ¡°I don¡¯t know why it¡¯s not healing.¡±


    ¡°Silver.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes. But I cut the bolt out, and I don¡¯t know what else to do.¡±


    ¡°Some silver left.¡±


    ¡°No, that ¨C are you sure?¡±


    Morgulon nodded. ¡°Help,¡± she repeated.


    Lane opened her mouth and closed it again. ¡°I¡¯m no doctor, Morgulon,¡± she said. ¡°I really don¡¯t know if I should...¡±


    But there was no one else, was there? And even if there was a doctor around here, they most certainly wouldn¡¯t treat a werewolf.


    ¡°I can¡¯t really make it worse, can I?¡± she sighed.


    Morgulon tilted her head. ¡°Yes,¡± she said slowly, forming the word very precisely. ¡°Silver.¡±


    Lane opened her mouth and closed it again, and found herself laughing despite herself. ¡°Right. No, I won¡¯t use the silver blade. Let¡¯s eat first, though.¡±


    Morgulon was quite enthusiastically in favour of that.


    Lane couldn¡¯t help but watch her while they ate. Her father had described this face hundreds of times for her, had called it monstrous and scarred and beastly.


    It wasn¡¯t, though. The only thing inhuman about Morgulon¡¯s face were the eyes. The rest, Lane might even have thought to be rather attractive, had Morgulon been human. There was a strange elegance to the werewolf¡¯s long slender limbs, a perfect symmetry to those high cheekbones, despite the scars. She was very tall, for a woman, would have been fairly tall even amongst men.


    ¡°Why did you save me?¡± Lane asked.


    Morgulon looked up from her piece of bread and for once faced Lane directly, then huffed softly. After a moment, Morgulon seemed to realize that she was staring, and looked away again, shrugging.


    ¡°You must have had a reason,¡± Lane tried again.


    Morgulon repeated the soft huffing sound, shaking her head, a little tired it seemed, or maybe frustrated. ¡°Stupid,¡± she finally said.


    ¡°Stupid reason?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Stupid question?¡± she added because Morgulon kept shaking her head.


    ¡°No,¡± the werewolf sighed. ¡°But too. Humans are weird.¡±


    Lane had no idea what to make of that. After a few minutes of silence, Morgulon suddenly said, very slowly, as if each word took effort: ¡°Stupid. Death. For revenge.¡±


    Lane stopped eating and stared down on her own piece of bread. Somehow, she couldn¡¯t help but laugh about that, though it really wasn¡¯t funny. ¡°What¡¯s a good way to die then?¡± she asked.


    Morgulon considered the question, turning the bread in her hands. ¡°Late,¡± she said.


    ¡°Late, of course,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°What I meant was, what is a good reason to die for? If revenge is a stupid reason, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Humans are weird,¡± Morgulon repeated, which seemed to exhaust her limit for philosophical discussions.


    They ate in silence, or at least Morgulon ate, and Lane watched her, trying to decide what to make of this conversation. How much thinking was going on behind those golden eyes? Or rather ¨C how different was that thought process? Morgulon spoke slowly, as if she had to struggle with each word to get it out. Yet she did seem to understand quite well, and she was clearly able to contemplate abstract concepts, like death and revenge. Had she really understood what Lane had offered? What the duke was offering? If she had, shouldn¡¯t she be asking more questions?


    But the werewolf seemed content with the silence.


    ¡°Where will you go tonight?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Since it¡¯s full moon?¡±


    Morgulon just waved at the trees surrounding them.


    ¡°Forest, right,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°I meant, how will I find you again?¡±


    Morgulon chewed on that question. ¡°Won¡¯t,¡± she decided. ¡°Find you.¡±


    Lane didn¡¯t like that answer at all but didn¡¯t argue. If she knew where about Morgulon would enter the forest, she should be able to track her down. That might take days, though.


    ¡°Find you,¡± Morgulon repeated. ¡°Bring food?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Lane said, rolling her eyes, and reaching for the bottle of whiskey she had brought. She had meant to save it for later, but really, it was almost full moon, and she was sitting on a tree trunk in the forest, having breakfast with a werewolf, which she was about to cut open. Not to kill it, but to save its life. Or at least help it heal. She deserved a drink.


    Morgulon eyed the bottle, clearly curious. So Lane took a swig and asked: ¡°Want some?¡±


    Morgulon sniffed the mouth of the bottle and grimaced, handing it back.


    Lane laughed. ¡°What, you¡¯ve never had whiskey before?¡±


    ¡°Breakfast,¡± Morgulon pointed out, sounding scandalized.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never had whiskey for breakfast,¡± Lane sighed, and had another drink, because what the hell, she was being lectured about the appropriate time to drink by a werewolf.


    Then she held out the bottle again. ¡°It might help,¡± she said. ¡°With your shoulder. Make it hurt less.¡±


    Morgulon considered that and took the bottle slowly. She sniffed the whiskey again, before taking a tiny sip. Lane couldn¡¯t stop herself from laughing about the expression on the werewolf¡¯s face, the look of surprise and total disgust.


    ¡°You don¡¯t like whiskey, fine,¡± Lane laughed. She had another quick sip herself when Morgulon handed the bottle back. She was really not looking forward to this, to cutting that shoulder open again. When she had done it the first time, she had at least been able to see part of the bolt and had an idea of where to cut. This time, she would have to cut basically blindly, and rummage around until she found the piece that was still in there.


    Provided Morgulon was even right about that.


    ¡°This is going to be a mess,¡± she sighed and put the bottle away. ¡°And it¡¯s going to hurt like hell, too, you know that, right?¡±


    Morgulon shrugged with her good shoulder. ¡°Hurts now,¡± she pointed out.


    Lane sighed again and pulled her knife out, felt the blade to make sure it was sharp. Morgulon was already struggling to get out of the dress, something she clearly hadn¡¯t done in a long time. Lane had to help her.


    Lane shuddered when she saw the injury underneath, hot, and red, and swollen.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± she muttered, and took a deep breath before she made the first cut. ¡°This is the most disgusting thing I¡¯ve ever done,¡± she complained, to distract herself.


    Blood and other stuff she didn¡¯t want to look closer at trickled over her hand.


    ¡°And I¡¯ve gutted a lot of deer, believe me. Hell, I¡¯ve reached into a mare¡¯s backside to help her give birth, and that wasn¡¯t nearly as disgusting as this.¡±


    Morgulon made no sound at all while Lane dug around inside her flesh. The splinter she finally found was tiny, and she would have missed it completely if Morgulon¡¯s flesh hadn¡¯t looked so different around it, burnt. As if an ember had travelled through the muscle.


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure this is it,¡± Lane said, and tried to show the piece to Morgulon. The werewolf flinched back, though, and while Lane still stared, she changed shape.


    ¡°You really can¡¯t stand being human, huh?¡± Lane asked, but of course, there was no answer. Morgulon just sniffed at her bag of food, so Lane gave her another sausage before they finally got moving.

 Chapter 15

    Lane stared out of the window of her room, at the full moon just climbing over the trees. She could hear a wolf howling in the distance and wondered if that was Morgulon or just an ordinary animal. Were there hunters out there right now?


    It seemed unlikely, but still. It was possible.


    Lane looked back down at the glass in front of her. How strange that she of all people worried about a werewolf. And not just any werewolf. The Morgulon. The legendary Morgulon. A werewolf who could fight the Rot as if it was nothing at all. Duke George Louis should better be happy about this.


    The werewolf who had killed her parents.


    Was there any point in trying to talk to her about that? Did she even remember? And if she did, would she be willing to talk, or just repeat how strange humans were?


    Lane sighed and sipped her wine. It was probably pointless to reopen that old wound. It seemed rather unlikely that Morgulon would apologize, even if she did remember, and Lane wasn¡¯t sure if she deserved an apology, anyway. And other than that, what did she even want to hear?


    Mostly, she wanted to know, that was all.


    There was something else nagging at Lane, though, something that had fairly little to do with Morgulon herself: Duke George Louis wanted werewolves to protect the workers building the railway, and no doubt he would send her to cover the worst part of it, the swamp right and left of the Savre. And sure, eventually, people would profit from that. Not Lane¡¯s people though, not the people of the earldom she had inherited from her mother, Wardshire. It would take years for the railway to reach them, and even then they would profit in very small ways at best.


    It didn¡¯t seem good enough. It didn¡¯t seem good enough to Lane that it should be her who brought Morgulon out of the wild, back into civilization, and her people wouldn¡¯t even profit. Especially since they wouldn¡¯t start building the railway until spring.


    Lane hesitated a moment longer, then went to round up some paper and an envelope.


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± she began and hesitated. There was always the risk that a letter was intercepted, so she continued:


    ¡°I have found another hound of that rare mountain breed we talked about at our last meeting, a young bitch of quite impressive talent. I¡¯m taking it home to Warden Hall to complete its training. If you are still interested in acquiring the dog for your collection, please let me know.


    Yours respectfully


    Countess Lane deLande¡±


    She read it again, but she was fairly certain that not even the Inquisition would guess what she was really writing about, especially since Duke George Louis did breed hunting dogs. Maybe she could buy a dog somewhere along the way, but it probably wouldn¡¯t be necessary.


    Outside, the howling started again. It sounded pained, Lane thought, but maybe that was just the worry clouding her senses. She needed Morgulon alive, or there was no telling what the duke would do. Lane didn¡¯t feel too confident that he would believe her if someone else killed the werewolf she¡¯d been hunting all her life.


    She lay awake in bed for hours, listening for the faint sounds from outside. The howling still sounded pained to her, and there was an echo to it that sounded like screaming. She had left the windows open, despite the winter cold, but after a while, the howling stopped altogether. Lane closed her eyes and tried to convince herself that the werewolf had simply moved further away.


    Lane was one of the first guests of the inn at breakfast, despite the short night, and as soon as it was light enough to deter the Rot, she was on her way. There was no Morgulon waiting for her around the corner today. Maybe she had gotten turned around during full moon. Or maybe she had decided she didn¡¯t want to go with Lane after all. Or maybe she had been injured again.


    Lane turned around and walked back to the point where she had left Morgulon last night, and soon found the werewolf¡¯s trail. There was still some blood, which made it easier to follow. It criss-crossed back and forth, crossing the road several times, almost as if Morgulon had circled the inn. Maybe she had been trying to find a way inside, in her full moon rage, to kill every single soul inside the walls.


    Lane shuddered at the thought, but still followed the trail deeper into the forest, and suddenly stumbled out of the forest and onto a battlefield. The site of not just one, but two battles.


    The first one had been many, many years ago, probably back when the Valoisian Empire had first claimed these lands. Ancient muskets, pikes, swords, and pieces of armour were scattered everywhere, and half-buried in the ground right in front of Lane was a line of rusted cannons. It took her a while to understand what else she was looking at:


    In the middle of the field was a mountain, a mountain of bones, all piled up like a macabre anthill. The husks of dead ¨C or rather destroyed ¨C Rot creatures were littered around it as if they had died defending the mountain. There had to be dozens of them.


    The stink of the Rot was still lingering on the field, thicker than Lane had ever smelled it, and she turned around, retreated, swallowing hard to keep her breakfast down. She tried to find the trail again, but she couldn¡¯t concentrate. The mountain of sun-bleached white bones was stuck in her head, and Lane couldn¡¯t help but wonder if maybe it didn¡¯t just look like an anthill. What if it was some kind of nest? Was there such a thing as a ¨C as a queen of the Rot, laying eggs or otherwise creating more of them? Was that why the creatures had defended the place?


    Lane lengthened her strides without even thinking about it, her crossbow ready, even though supposedly there was little point in shooting the Rot. Lane had never tried.


    She was so distracted that it took her a while to realize that she was being followed. When she finally did, she brought her crossbow around without even thinking about it and fired a bolt, jerking the weapon away in the same movement.


    ¡°For flame¡¯s sake, Morgulon,¡± she called when the shot went wide. ¡°Don¡¯t sneak up on me like that!¡±


    She sighed when the werewolf kept her distance and took the remaining bolt out of the action. ¡°Look, you surprised me. Don¡¯t do that.¡±


    Morgulon growled softly, and Lane froze, every instinct screaming at her to put the bolt back where it belonged and draw the string again. She didn¡¯t move, though. There was no way she could fumble the lever out of her pocket that fast anyway. If Morgulon wanted to kill her, she was dead.


    The werewolf just huffed, a sound Lane was beginning to recognize. When Morgulon shook herself, a full body shake, like a dog trying to dry its fur, she managed a slow, unsteady breath.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get going,¡± she said, turning around, and almost managed to sound like the werewolf hadn¡¯t scared her to death just now.


    She had only taken a couple of steps, when Morgulon shoved her from behind, hard enough that she lost her balance and almost ended up on her face. Lane threw herself around, her heart beating high in her throat again, painfully fast, but the huge wolf just sat there, tongue lolling out between the gleaming cursed teeth, tail thumping the snow-covered ground. While Lane still stared, Morgulon changed.


    ¡°Told you,¡± she said, and the self-satisfied grin vanished from her face as she spoke, turning serious again. ¡°I find you.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Lane muttered, staring at Morgulon blankly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.


    Morgulon remained crouched in her human form for a few seconds longer, for once not avoiding Lane¡¯s gaze. When she turned wolf again, it was the fastest, smoothest transformation Lane had seen yet.


    The werewolf did not turn human again a single time for the next two weeks. To her own surprise, Lane found herself wishing Morgulon would. She felt stupid when she was trying to carry both sides of a conversation. The silence was starting to feel oppressive, even though Lane was used to travelling alone, and had never been bothered by it before.


    The only positive thing was that Morgulon¡¯s injury finally started healing, though it was slow going.


    Lane left Morgulon some clothes when she left her alone on the last night before new moon and was surprised when Morgulon was still wolf when she found her again the next morning, carrying the clothes around in her mouth. They had been walking for less than an hour, when Morgulon stumbled, fell, and landed in the snow human. This transformation seemed to take longer and looked like it was more painful than Morgulon¡¯s usual transformation. She just remained laying in the snow for a minute.


    Morgulon groaned softly while she struggled to her feet. At the sound, Lane hurried to pick up the clothes Morgulon had dropped, and shake the snow out of them.


    ¡°Here,¡± she said, offering Morgulon the dress.


    Morgulon groaned again, but eventually accepted the clothes, staggering across the road and vanishing between the trees. Lane followed her, bewildered.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Sleep,¡± Morgulon said, stumbling on blindly. Somehow, she had managed to get completely tangled up in the dress.


    ¡°Hang on,¡± Lane said, but she had to grab the fabric to stop Morgulon. ¡°Here, let me help you.¡±


    ¡°Hate new moon,¡± Morgulon grumbled, while Lane managed to get each of her arms into a sleeve, and her head through the right hole.


    ¡°You really want to go to sleep now?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Morgulon said, trying to pull the sleeves over her hands. ¡°Tired,¡± she added, then paused. ¡°Bring food?¡±


    ¡°I brought food, yes,¡± Lane said. ¡°Do you want to eat now?¡±


    Morgulon wrapped her arms around herself. ¡°Shelter first,¡± she sighed. ¡°Then food. Then sleep.¡±


    Lane considered protesting that plan, but there didn¡¯t seem to be much point to it. She couldn¡¯t force Morgulon to keep going, so she just said: ¡°All right, fine. What kind of shelter?¡±


    Morgulon just swung her head left and right and continued walking, always going downhill. Sometimes, she tested the snow but seemed either unwilling or unable to describe what she was looking for. Eventually, she stopped in front of a bank of snow higher than Lane was tall.


    ¡°Stay?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Stay here?¡± Lane asked, and was surprised when Morgulon reached for her hand, shaking her head.


    ¡°Stay,¡± she repeated.


    ¡°Oh, will I stay?¡± Lane asked. ¡°I ¨C I guess,¡± she replied.


    Morgulon gave her a brief smile and started digging into the snowbank using a stick. When Lane offered her the small hatchet, she accepted but didn¡¯t want any help beyond that. So Lane left to gather firewood and maybe find some more game.


    It was a bright, sunny day, almost blindingly so. Lane often had to shield her eyes against the glare of the reflected sunlight on the snow, and there was almost no wind. It would have been a good day to travel.


    As it turned out, it was a good day to hunt as well. Lane managed to shoot two snow hares that were out and looking for food, and also another of the big grouse-like birds. Hopefully, that would be enough meat to keep a werewolf happy over the two days of new moon.


    When Lane returned to the snowbank, Morgulon was nowhere in sight. All there was, was a hole in the bank, big enough to crawl into. When Lane pushed her head in, she came face to face with a load of discarded snow, which Morgulon was pushing out with her feet, as it seemed. Lane jumped back.


    ¡°I¡¯ve brought food,¡± she announced. She could hear scraping on the snow, and then Morgulon came tumbling out of the hole she had dug.


    ¡°Shelter,¡± she explained, gesturing at the opening. ¡°Almost done. Come see?¡±


    She seemed excited to present her work, so Lane pushed her head through the opening again. She had to crawl up a short slope, and found herself inside a surprisingly large cavern dug out of the snow. Light filtered through the roof, showing a room high enough that she could sit easily, and both long and wide enough for two humans to lay down. A long, straight branch was poked through the ceiling, the hole widened a little. To let in fresh air, Lane guessed.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done this a lot, huh?¡± Lane asked, impressed with how much work Morgulon had been able to do.


    ¡°Every new moon,¡± Morgulon said, following behind. ¡°All winter.¡±


    ¡°How many years have you been hiding out here in the mountains?¡±


    Morgulon shrugged. ¡°Long.¡±


    ¡°Long, right,¡± Lane said, smiling. ¡°Want to go outside again and eat? I¡¯ll get a fire started.¡±


    ¡°Soon,¡± Morgulon said.


    ¡°I see. Want to finish first?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Morgulon said, a look of intense concentration on her face. ¡°Since soon after. Your father. Came back, sometimes. Bad winters. Bad summers.¡±


    Lane opened her mouth and closed it again. ¡°You remember? You know that ¨C who my father was?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Lane couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    ¡°Smell,¡± Morgulon said. ¡°Smelled you. With your mother.¡±


    ¡°Why did you kill her?¡± Lane took a deep breath but couldn¡¯t quite calm herself. ¡°Why did you ¨C she wasn¡¯t even a hunter!¡±


    Morgulon shrugged.


    ¡°Oh, come on. You can¡¯t just start on this, and...¡± Lane stopped when Morgulon raised a hand. She could see the werewolf¡¯s jaws working, and clamped her own teeth together.


    Eventually, Morgulon said, her speech halting, as if each word was a fight: ¡°Seemed fair. Back then. Your father ¨C killed my family. Mother. Father. Brothers. So. Kill his family. Seemed fair.¡±


    ¡°You ¨C you had a family?¡±


    Morgulon tilted her head to the side. ¡°Course.¡±


    ¡°Right, sorry, I just assumed ¨C people say you were ¨C were born a werewolf. So I always thought your parents must have been dead before you entered the circus.¡±


    Morgulon shook her head. ¡°Mother. Werewolf. But pretty. Not like me.¡± She pulled at her hair, grey, and brown, and black, so much like the markings on her werewolf face.


    Lane frowned and almost said that Morgulon was pretty too. ¡°She was a werewolf, but she looked human?¡± she guessed.


    Morgulon nodded. ¡°Trained dogs for father. Had a cage, like mine. For full moon. Lots of cages in a circus.¡±


    ¡°Your father, was he human?¡±


    ¡°Human, yes. Tried to save us, that night. Got me out first. Went back for mother and my baby brothers.¡± Morgulon looked away. ¡°Mirko was baby. Tiny baby. Steven just started walking,¡± she growled. ¡°Fire took them all. Your father. Murdered. Them all.¡±


    Lane flinched back when Morgulon turned her golden eyes on her. ¡°It was not enough. For him. He would not stop. Hated himself too much, hated how I made him feel. Too much. To stop.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Lane asked, bewildered.


    ¡°Lust,¡± Morgulon said with a hollow laugh. ¡°Strong smell. Very strong. He saw me naked, and he. Felt like you.¡±


    ¡°What are you ¨C you were what, eight years old back then? Nine?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Morgulon whispered. ¡°Child. But he wanted, still. Hated it. Came back every night anyway. Watched me perform. Sometimes three times. In one day. Came to my cage, too. One night he brought fire. Murdered them all.¡±


    The werewolf was quiet for a long time, her eyes glowing faintly with anger in the gloom. Then she just blinked, shrugged, and the tension, all the grief, and all the fury seemed to bleed away. ¡°Stupid,¡± she said. ¡°To kill for revenge. Changes nothing.¡±


    ¡°Stupid,¡± Lane whispered to herself. Had her father really been ¨C had he really lusted after a child? A werewolf child, but still?


    Why didn¡¯t this sound like slander? Why was she even entertaining the idea, why wasn¡¯t this making her angry, after all those years he had spent trying to drive her down the straight path of what he considered righteousness?


    But maybe she had always known that a man who could lead her onto that path by example wouldn¡¯t have needed to beat her bloody quite so often.


    ¡°Food, now?¡± Morgulon interrupted her thoughts.


    ¡°Right, food,¡± Lane said. ¡°Let me start a fire and grill some meat, then we can eat.¡±


    Morgulon nodded. She didn¡¯t quite flinch on the word fire, but she was perfectly happy to dig in the snow some more, while Lane built a fire pit outside and skinned one of the rabbits. She had bought bread and some hard cheese and sausage, and there was also a piece of the candied fruit left for each of them.


    Morgulon was clearly torn between wanting the warmth and keeping her distance from the flames when she came out of her snow cave to eat.


    ¡°Do you usually eat the meat raw?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Even on new moon?¡±


    Morgulon rubbed the scar on her face. ¡°I hate fire,¡± she said. ¡°No lighter, too.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re speaking more, today,¡± Lane noted.


    ¡°New moon,¡± Morgulon said, ¡°makes it easier.¡±


    ¡°Did you use to talk more?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Back when you were with the circus, I mean. Before you lived out here on your own.¡±


    ¡°Never liked being human much,¡± Morgulon shrugged. ¡°Never felt right. Mother. Different. They worried, first, that I would. Be dangerous.¡±


    ¡°But you weren¡¯t,¡± Lane said. ¡°Are there others like you? Werewolves that were born, not bitten?¡±


    ¡°Now? Don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Do you think it makes a difference?¡±


    Morgulon tilted her head. ¡°Difference how?¡±


    ¡°Well, you were able to fight all those Rot-creatures on that battlefield on full moon, and there must have been dozens of them. A few months ago, I watched another werewolf almost get killed by one single Rot-creature. He managed to destroy it, but it took him hours, and he got injured, too.¡±


    ¡°Young one,¡± Morgulon said, nodding along.


    ¡°Not that young,¡± Lane said. ¡°He must have been seventeen or eighteen.¡±


    ¡°No. Young werewolf. Not young human.¡± She paused, forehead furrowed. ¡°Strength of a hundred full moons,¡± she finally said. ¡°And the Rot becomes...¡± She waved vaguely. ¡°Queens are still hard, even now. But they¡¯re rare. Thousand full moons, and even they become...¡± Morgulon shrugged.


    Lane raised her eyebrows. ¡°A thousand full moons?¡± she asked and tried to estimate what that meant. ¡°You¡¯d have to be a werewolf for what, eighty years? Ninety?¡±


    ¡°There was someone,¡± Morgulon said. ¡°Someone like me. He¡¯s gone now, but he protected the Torrent¡¯s wellspring.¡±


    ¡°He protected the wellspring of the White Torrent?¡± Lane repeated. ¡°Wait, is that why the river was never overtaken by the Rot?¡±


    ¡°Will be,¡± Morgulon said, shrugging. ¡°Soon. The Old One died, a while ago.¡±


    ¡°Well, shit,¡± Lane muttered.


    That explained a lot. The White Torrent was the second biggest river of Loegrion after the Savre and the only navigable stream of Loegrion that was free of the Rot. Or had been, at least. It passed right through the heartlands, cut Deva in half, and reached the sea at Deggan. Last time Lane had been in the capital, there had been no other topic of interest.


    She¡¯d have to let the duke know, but it would have to wait until they could actually meet.


    Lane took the meat out of the fire and checked on the tin pot that she had filled with snow, to make tea. Morgulon was hesitant to accept a cup and then set it down on the ground. She didn¡¯t drink it until it couldn¡¯t be more than lukewarm. She was very enthusiastic about the grilled rabbit, though.


    After they had eaten, Morgulon retreated into her snow hole, and Lane followed her after a moment of hesitation. The sun was already vanishing behind the mountainside, and it was getting cold, fast. Inside the shelter the werewolf had built, it was at least a little bit warmer.


    ¡°Bad night,¡± Morgulon muttered, while Lane tried to get comfortable. It was too early for her to go to sleep, so she sat, leaning against the back wall of the cave.


    ¡°Why is it a bad night?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Cold,¡± Morgulon sighed. ¡°Outside. Very, very cold.¡±


    Lane nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. ¡°When you killed my father,¡± she said because this might be her only chance to ask, ¡°was that before or after you decided that it is stupid to kill for revenge?¡±


    ¡°After,¡± Morgulon said.


    ¡°So why did you do it?¡±


    ¡°No choice,¡± Morgulon sighed. ¡°Too much hate. He followed. Everywhere. Paid others, too. Killed him. So they would forget me.¡±


    ¡°Do you know that they¡¯re still telling stories about you?¡± Lane asked. ¡°There¡¯s no other werewolf who ever lived that long and escaped from so many hunters.¡±


    ¡°Tired,¡± Morgulon muttered, closing her eyes. ¡°Tired of running.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing that Duke George Louis wants you alive, then,¡± Lane said.


    A few minutes later, Morgulon was snoring softly. There was no sign, no hint at all, that she was still scared of Lane. Even though she was at her most vulnerable tonight.


    Lane reached for her knife ¨C her normal knife, with a blade of steel. She had left the silver one outside the cave, together with her crossbow and quiver. But tonight, even the steel blade would be deadly to Morgulon.


    Lane sighed and threw the blade at the opposite wall of snow. It hit hilt first and tumbled to the ground.


    Lane stared at it for a few seconds, but then got up to pick it up again. She threw it a second time with the same result, which annoyed her to no end. Granted, it wasn¡¯t meant as a throwing knife, and she hadn¡¯t practised in a while, but still. This was embarrassing.


    Throwing the knife was a welcome distraction from all the other things that kept running through her mind in a circle. What Morgulon had said about her father. What Morgulon had said about her.


    Lust is a strong smell.


    When the knife finally got stuck in the snow like it was supposed to, Lane rubbed her face with her hand. She hadn¡¯t even allowed her thoughts to wander in that direction, not once when she had seen the werewolf naked in her human form!


    Lane glanced over to Morgulon, then back at the knife that was still stuck in the snow. She picked it up once again.


    Abomination, she heard her father¡¯s voice.


    ¡°You were worse,¡± Lane whispered into the cold air. It was still bright enough that she could see her breath turn into fog. ¡°Weren¡¯t you? That¡¯s why you had to flee to Loegrion. Why you weren¡¯t allowed to go through the first trial. Because you ¨C¡°


    Touched a child.


    She couldn¡¯t bring herself to say it out loud, but that made no difference. She knew it was true. Because suddenly, it all made sense.


    Lane waited for the anger to come, but she just felt cold. Lost.


    After a while, she glanced over at Morgulon again. She should kill her. Kill the monster.


    ¡°The only godly desire you ever expressed,¡± her father whispered promptly. ¡°Hold onto that hate. We¡¯ll kill the werewolf, avenge your mother, and wash you clean of your sins in its blood.¡±


    But the hate was gone, wasn¡¯t it? Lane couldn¡¯t even imagine shooting Morgulon, no more than she would shoot any other person in the street.


    She threw the knife again.


    When Lane woke up the next morning, Morgulon had rolled up to her, so that they were laying back to back. Lane sat up abruptly and brought some distance between them. The werewolf didn¡¯t wake when she crawled out of the hole, closing the snow door behind herself that Morgulon had made. The air outside was completely dry and so cold that every breath hurt. Lane hurried to light the fire again and get a fresh pot of tea going.


    Morgulon didn¡¯t wake until noon. By that time, Lane was roasting the second rabbit she had shot yesterday. The smell of sizzling meat finally got her moving. The werewolf didn¡¯t talk much, though, and transformed as soon as the slightest sliver of moon was visible again.


    Three days later, they had left the Argentum Formation behind for good, and another day later they crossed the river Abhain. Lane stopped for the night at the road house on the western side of the heavily fortified bridge, high above the icy, dark, Rot-infested waters. Morgulon found her own way across.


    After another two days of quick travel, they reached a fork in the road. Lane asked at the little village that sat right at the crossroads and was assured that both routes were lined with coaching inns and would take her across the Crucible Ridge. Lane picked the southern one since she had abandoned the plan to take Morgulon straight to Eoforwic.


    They spent another full moon up in the mountains, and then the Winter Solstice, too. It was the first time in her life that Lane didn¡¯t attend the Sun¡¯s Rebirth Ceremonies at church. She tried to at least pray, but no words would come to her, so she just fasted.


    Finally, they reached more densely populated areas which meant that soon, they were travelling mostly after dark, when everyone else was behind closed doors. The deeper they moved into what Lane considered civilized lands, the more nervous and impatient Morgulon seemed to become. Sometimes she went so far as to nudge Lane with her nose to make her walk faster, her ears constantly flicking back and forth.


    ¡°I only have two legs,¡± Lane sighed when Morgulon shoved her so hard that she nearly lost her balance. ¡°And if you make me break one, I¡¯m not likely to walk faster, either.¡±


    Morgulon growled softly, and raised her head, sniffing the breeze, then shoving Lane again, even harder, as if she was trying to push her huge head between her legs from behind.


    ¡°What the ¨C what is wrong with you?¡± Lane hissed, stumbling out of the way.


    Morgulon threw her head around as if she was trying to point at something behind them. Lane stared at her.


    ¡°Are you ¨C are you offering to carry me?¡± she finally asked.


    Morgulon nodded vigorously, giving Lane another push.


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy,¡± Lane said, but Morgulon just crouched down like a dog that had been told to lay down.


    ¡°This is insane, Morgulon,¡± Lane sighed, but after a moment, she stepped closer, and carefully swung one leg over Morgulon¡¯s back.


    ¡°This would be less awkward if you weren¡¯t laying down,¡± she muttered, so of course Morgulon jumped up to her feet and nearly threw Lane off again.


    ¡°Very funny,¡± Lane muttered, but she managed not to fall when Morgulon took off in a quick sort of trot. Lane could feel her teeth chatter together while she was trying to find a way to hold on without tearing Morgulon¡¯s fur out. She had always hated riding bareback, and the werewolf¡¯s gait wasn¡¯t nearly as smooth as the Grey¡¯s had been. They were moving a lot faster, that much was true, but they hadn¡¯t yet gotten very far when Lane heard the howling. There was another werewolf nearby.


    Morgulon started running.


    ¡°That one of the mad ones?¡± Lane asked quietly.


    There was no answer, of course, but Morgulon didn¡¯t even slow down to shake her head or nod. Which was probably as good as a yes. Besides, it was just a night after half-moon, and a sane werewolf would not be calling attention to themselves like that.


    The howling came closer until Morgulon slowed down. There it was, another werewolf, just as tall as Morgulon, but heavier, wider in the shoulders. Probably stronger than Morgulon, Lane thought with a shudder. Its fur was darker around the muzzle. Or maybe wet. Or bloody.


    The stranger moved sideways, circling Morgulon awkwardly as if its front half wanted to attack right away while the other half was more careful. Morgulon waited, eyes and ears fixed on the other werewolf, calm, now that the confrontation was unavoidable.


    Lane reached for the crossbow she had slung across her back, which she kept loaded with silver when she wasn¡¯t hunting for food. She trusted Morgulon to defend her against the Rot, but Lane wasn¡¯t about to put her life into her paws when it was another werewolf.


    The stranger leaned its head back and howled again, a shrill, piercing sound that didn¡¯t sound like a regular wolf at all. Morgulon growled softly in warning, and to Lane¡¯s surprise, the howling stopped, and the stranger retreated a couple of steps. It didn¡¯t look like the other werewolf was even aware of Lane¡¯s presence. Its full attention was on Morgulon. Suddenly, it jumped forward, but landed wrong, almost falling over and still looking as if its two halves wanted to go in two different directions. Its jaws were working and there was foam around its muzzle.


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    When Morgulon growled again, louder, it actually ran away a few yards, but then came looping back with a mad scream.


    Lane¡¯s shot hit it right in the eye.


    It staggered a couple of steps further, and then collapsed, almost silently. Morgulon walked up to the body slowly, sniffed it, and shook her head with a sigh. She circled the body, still swinging her head left and right, and eventually stopped, ears flickering, head raised into the icy breeze. Then she went down on her belly.


    Lane obediently jumped to the ground, and before she could say anything, explain anything, Morgulon took off. Lane cursed silently and stared after her. She clamped her teeth together over the urge to call for her, to scream the werewolf¡¯s name. She wasn¡¯t going to apologize for defending her own life, no way. But maybe she should at least follow the werewolf? Trail her, so that she¡¯d be close when she calmed down?


    Just as she was about to step into the darkness between the trees, she finally noticed the sound of hooves on the frozen ground.


    Lane spun around, her heart suddenly beating high in her throat. There were other hunters in this forest with them. Morgulon hadn¡¯t left because she was angry, but because she trusted Lane to cover for her.


    Lane pulled out her silver knife, stepped closer to the dead werewolf, and tried to remember what she would be doing if she were in this forest alone, to actually hunt. Only she wouldn¡¯t be in this forest alone, because hunting a mad werewolf on foot, in a forest she didn¡¯t know, was reckless even by her standards.


    She took a deep breath and cut the werewolf¡¯s throat because that was routine. That was something she should have done right away, to make sure the monster was truly dead.


    Blood welled out of the wound and sizzled on the silver blade, just as four riders appeared from between the trees, three of them armed with crossbows, one with a pistol. Lane¡¯s heart sank. She knew two of these guys, Little Roy and Big Bart. They didn¡¯t just sound like a circus act, they hunted like one, too. Bart was a decent enough guy outside of the forest, but he sat on his poor horse like a man who had learned to ride only yesterday, and Roy...


    Lane called him Little Rat in her own mind, because he wasn¡¯t above the occasional swindle if he thought he could get away with it. Thought himself a big inventor, but half the stuff he came up with was completely useless, and the other half often more dangerous than helpful. The pistol was a point in case. What good was a weapon, no matter how high its penetration power, that would alert not only the prey you were currently hunting but every other living thing for miles about your exact position? For war, sure, for war firearms were useful. But that was because killing humans was easy.


    Lane ran her knife through the fur of the werewolf to get most of the blood off and straightened up.


    She was fairly sure that she had met one of the other hunters as well, the tall, lean one with the long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She couldn¡¯t remember his name, though. The last one was hardly more than a boy, rather short and stocky, who was looking around nervously. Probably on his first hunt.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Big Bart called, when he saw Lane, and climbed cumbersomely out of the saddle. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing? That was our...¡±


    He broke off when he recognized Lane.


    ¡°Miss ¨C I mean Madame?¡±, he asked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. We didn¡¯t know you had taken this contract, too.¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t,¡± Lane said. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize there was one. That bastard killed my horse.¡±


    Everybody stared at her after that.


    ¡°It ¨C killed your horse?¡± Big Bart asked. ¡°Are you saying you went after it on foot?¡±


    ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t going to let it get away with that,¡± Lane gave back coolly, trying to sound as aloof as she possibly could, hoping that it would stop them from asking for more details. She wasn¡¯t even sure where exactly they were, and she had no idea what route the dead werewolf had followed, so if they asked her where she had lost her horse, the best she¡¯d be able to say would be something like ¡°two villages back,¡± and hope that the other hunters hadn¡¯t been on its tail there.


    ¡°You followed a werewolf on foot,¡± Little Rat repeated. ¡°And you killed it.¡± He sounded a little faint.


    Lane shrugged, trying to look like nothing about this was unusual for her.


    ¡°Well, damn,¡± muttered Little Rat.


    The youngest of the group was already eying the dead werewolf. ¡°Right in the eye,¡± he announced.


    At which point the man with the long ponytail raised a horn to his lips and gave a short signal.


    ¡°How many werewolves are you after?¡± Lane asked, trying to sound casual. Morgulon might be in trouble if these people were expecting a pack.


    ¡°Just this one,¡± Little Roy said. ¡°Been a tricky, one, though.¡±


    Lane nodded. ¡°Who put up the bounty?¡± she asked.


    ¡°You really haven¡¯t heard about that?¡± Little Roy asked. ¡°His Excellency himself, High Inquisitor d¡¯Evier.¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t heard, no,¡± Lane managed to say. ¡°I was following a different trail, up in the mountains. I didn¡¯t know that the Inquisitor was back in Loegrion.¡±


    Inside her head, she wanted to scream. D¡¯Evier back in Loegrion, that was just about the worst news imaginable. Everybody in the country, Loegrians and Valoise alike, had been relieved when the High Inquisitor had returned to the capital of Valoir. He was absolutely merciless in his thrive for power, and a fanatic to boot, so unlike his predecessors, he didn¡¯t focus on the rest of the Empire, and kept trying to advance the Inquisition¡¯s cause in Loegrion. The worst thing was, that one could never be sure which urge would win out. D¡¯Evier might spare someone who was guilty of a deadly sin, or he might have somebody tortured to death for the slightest transgression, depending on whether or not he considered that person useful. What he did consider useful, however, seemed completely arbitrary to Lane.


    So far, d¡¯Evier had not sent the Inquisition after Duke George Louis, but Lane was fairly sure that it was just a matter of time. She really didn¡¯t want to get caught in the crossfire.


    But it was too late for that, wasn¡¯t it? She had saved Morgulon, and she had no intention of handing her over to d¡¯Evier, or anyone else for that matter. Maybe not even to the duke.


    Lane noticed how Big Bart and Little Roy looked at each other, and a shudder ran down her spine. She had taken their kill, and then she¡¯d been dumb enough to tell them that nobody was likely to miss her for a while. And it was so easy to get yourself killed when hunting werewolves.


    ¡°Perhaps we can offer you some help in getting the creature into town,¡± Little Rat said. ¡°And share the profits?¡±


    Lane tried not to sigh in relief and instead look like she considered the offer. She hadn¡¯t expected to make any money at all until she got back home, but she was really low on silver, after the long journey and trying to keep Morgulon fed.


    ¡°I would be willing to split half and half,¡± she said after a moment. She expected the men to haggle about it, especially since she had no hope in hell of getting the dead body out of the forest on her own, but Big Bart just said:


    ¡°You are most generous, Madame.¡±


    Even the little Rat looked relieved. How good was the price for this one?


    Before she could ask, two more riders came down the road.


    ¡°You got it?¡± one of them asked. ¡°Finally.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t,¡± Big Bart said. ¡°Lady deLande beat us to it.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s willing to share the profit, though,¡± Little Roy added quickly. ¡°Since she¡¯s on foot.¡±


    ¡°On foot?¡± repeated the newcomer.


    ¡°The bloody beast killed my horse,¡± Lane said, waving vaguely into the direction from which she and Morgulon had come. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to just let it walk away after that.¡±


    The newcomer who hadn¡¯t spoken yet said: ¡°We should get a move on. We found tracks of at least one other werewolf, and there were no other bounties in the area. I checked, and I don¡¯t want to risk my life for a general warrant.¡±


    ¡°Kilby is right,¡± said Big Bart. ¡°Let¡¯s get this mess packed.¡±


    The werewolf was tied to a long branch so it wouldn¡¯t drag over the ground and ruin the pelt when Bart and the man with the long hair shouldered the wood. Lane climbed onto the horse behind Kilby, and off they were.


    When she looked over her shoulder, Lane was almost certain that she could see the faint glow of a pair of golden eyes in the pitch black underneath the trees.


    ¡°Everything all right behind us?¡± Kilby asked when Lane craned her neck for the third or fourth time.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s all good,¡± Lane said. ¡°I thought I had seen something, but must have been a trick of the shadows.¡±


    Kilby looked over his shoulder as well. ¡°I have some extra bolts,¡± he said, ¡°if you need some. I swear, there¡¯s at least one other werewolf out there, I saw the tracks.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Lane said. ¡°I¡¯m good.¡±


    She knew that there was another werewolf behind them, but she still replaced the quarrel she had fired and tightened the string again. Just in case, and also to keep up appearance.


    No werewolf showed its fangs, though, and Lane hated it. She hated leaving Morgulon behind without knowing when and where they could meet again, hated letting her out of her sight.


    When the morning dawned, they reached Northwold, a good-sized town that was surrounded by a bunch of smaller villages. A large cathedral towered over the quaint city centre. Industrialization hadn¡¯t yet turned all the houses black, but it was just a matter of time. Down by the river, there were factories sprouting up, weavers mostly, if Lane remembered correctly.


    The town was already wide awake when they passed the gates, and people stopped to stare at the dead werewolf. Several of them made the sign against evil.


    They rode straight down the main road, towards the cathedral. In its shadow stood the town hall, which included the Imperial magistrate for the county. They put the dead werewolf down in the small square in front of the huge building with its excessive decorations. Guards stepped forward to keep away the people who were already gathering.


    One of them led Lane and Little Roy inside, to the door of the responsible bailiff. There was some back and forth, because Lane hadn¡¯t been officially on this contract, and the bailiff claimed that therefore she could only collect the general warrant. Lane didn¡¯t really give a damn either way, but Roy did some fast-talking, and suddenly she was officially a subcontractor of his and Bart¡¯s.


    ¡°Only for this hunt,¡± Roy assured her softly.


    The bailiff didn¡¯t look happy, but he pushed his fat bottom out of his chair. ¡°Let¡¯s go see if it¡¯s even the right werewolf,¡± he grumbled.


    The bailiff made a show of comparing the dead creature to the warrant, but of course it was the right werewolf. Big Bart and Little Roy weren¡¯t entirely useless.


    The headsman was already standing by with his huge axe, the dead body was propped up, and a big cheer went up when the head fell. Lane never quite understood this part; after all, the werewolf had been dead for hours. But the spectators cheered as if something huge had been accomplished before their very eyes. A procession followed the two guards who picked up the head to put it onto one of the spikes in the centre of the market square. Still grumbling, the bailiff handed over the reward, and when Lane saw the chest full of silver, she understood why Roy and Bart had been so eager to get this contract.


    They split the silver half and half, just as Lane had said. The four hunters Little Roy and Big Bart had hired to help out each got a share as well. They actually looked quite happy.


    ¡°Are you going to buy a new horse now, Milady?¡± Big Bart wanted to know, as she bagged the money.


    Lane considered it. ¡°I might,¡± she said slowly. ¡°Only if there is a good one on offer, though. I¡¯ve got a young mare back at home, all trained and ready, and I can always take the coach, if necessary.¡±


    She kneeled down next to the headless corpse, to start skinning it. The fur was grey, and white and black, just like Morgulon¡¯s, and Lane could feel her fingers shake when she put the knife to the thick skin. Which made no sense at all. This wasn¡¯t Morgulon. It was one of the mad ones. Hell, Morgulon hadn¡¯t even tried to stop her from killing this creature.


    She still felt dirty as she carefully cut along the inside of the legs. The less damage there was to the pelt, the more money it would fetch. And if the huge paws were still attached, even better. Lane pulled the claws, though. Those would sell separately, alchemists paid even more for them than the tanners. For the customer, they¡¯d be replaced with horn, cut to look like claws, and the buyer would never be the wiser.


    ¡°Want a hand?¡± Big Bart asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Lane said curtly, though she could feel a cold sweat forming on her forehead. She wanted the other hunters to go away, to leave her alone, so she could sell the pelt and get out of town, to find Morgulon, and be on her way.


    Hell, she should just leave the bloody pelt.


    But the fur was worth a lot of money, just like the claws, and people would talk if she just left it behind. It was one thing to be out hunting on foot without backup, that was daring, or foolhardy, maybe a little fanatic. But leaving a perfectly good pelt behind was just plain insane, and people would talk.


    They would talk in any case, but Lane was okay with being known as a crazy fanatic who hated werewolves so much that she risked her life to avenge a dead horse on foot. With people knowing that she was badass enough to pull it off. That way, at least people weren¡¯t likely to believe that she was riding home on the back of the legendary Morgulon. Or that she would support Duke George Louis and his mad schemes.


    Lane looked up because her name was called. A young woman was standing over her, about her age, Lane guessed, with the just slightly darker, olive tinted skin and black hair of the native Valoise. She was holding a notebook and a pencil and looked at Lane with a slightly worried expression.


    ¡°Countess deLande?¡± she repeated. ¡°Is that correct?¡±


    Lane ignored her. She hated talking to the press. If they needed a story with lots of blood and gore, they could go talk to the hangman. Or the constabulary. Or Little Roy.


    ¡°Lady deLande, is it true that you chased and killed this werewolf on foot? Or is that an exaggeration of your partners?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not my partners,¡± Lane groused. ¡°I ran into them in the forest, after I had killed the werewolf. They just helped me bring in the kill.¡±


    ¡°But you hunted on foot?¡±


    Lane sighed. ¡°It killed my horse, and I wasn¡¯t going to let it get away with that.¡±


    ¡°Where did it kill your horse?¡±


    Lane gritted her teeth, cursing herself for not keeping her mouth shut. ¡°I don¡¯t know, exactly,¡± she said. ¡°I was on the trail of a different werewolf, somewhere deep in the forest.¡±


    ¡°And how did you survive the vicious attack?¡±


    Lane sighed. ¡°I came across a group of charcoal burners, I got out of the saddle to talk to them, find out if they had seen or heard anything when this mad bastard here jumped out of the brush and dragged my horse away.¡±


    ¡°You say ¡®mad bastard.¡¯ Can you tell our readers how they can recognize a mad werewolf?¡±


    Lane stared at the woman, who was clearly a little mad herself. ¡°If it attacks them in their homes and it¡¯s not full moon, it¡¯s a safe bet that it¡¯s as mad as a march hare.¡±


    ¡°And outside? How could you tell that this one was mad, and not just hungry? Or did it attack you, or the charcoal burners?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see it attack anyone but my horse,¡± Lane gave back. ¡°But I know it was mad, because I killed it, alone, in the forest, on foot. If it had had half a brain left, it could have easily gotten away from me, but instead of just running as hard as it could, it kept going back and forth. Look, if you want to know the details about all the people this monster killed, go talk to Big Bart and Little Roy.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I shall do that.¡±


    Lane shook her head and went back to her work. At least her hands had stopped shaking.


    Lane should have known better than to send the woman to Little Rat for a story. Hours later, when she had finally managed to sell the hide for a decent price to a tanner and found a horse that would get her home, the evening issue of the city courier was just being sold. The headline read: ¡°MAD CHASE: the monster of Northwold killed by Lady deLande ON FOOT.¡± The layout, admittedly, had been quite cleverly done. From a distance, it just read: ¡°Mad chase on foot.¡± What followed was a lurid tale full of details Lane had never invented herself and came probably from Roy, who, unsurprisingly, had played a much bigger part in bringing down the monster than Lane remembered. It ended with: ¡°The good citizens of Northwold, and indeed, all of Loegrion can rest peacefully. Brave and beautiful Countess Lane deLande and her faithful companions, Little Roy and Big Bart, are tirelessly on the tail of even the most dangerous creatures.¡±


    The word ¡®brave¡¯ could be found no less than six times in the text, along with ¡®daring¡¯, ¡®dashing,¡¯ and of course ¡®handsome.¡¯ Roy was nothing if not vain.


    Lane groaned and rubbed her face. She could only hope that the City Courier didn¡¯t have much of a readership. Because otherwise, the Feleke brothers would never let her live it down that she had needed or even accepted help from the Little Rat and his sidekick.


    And the worst part was that it was too late to leave the city now. Dusk was already falling, and after that article, people might notice if she left for the forest right now. Better if she didn¡¯t draw any more attention to herself.


    For a long time, Lane just stood on the sidewalk, patting the nose of her new horse and staring up into the purple sky, trying to convince herself that it would be okay. Morgulon was smart, she¡¯d be fine, she was safe in the forest. Kilby might know that there was a werewolf out there, but there was no way he would ever catch up with Morgulon. No one had managed for over thirty years. Lane had only managed by sheer luck. And if she couldn¡¯t kill a werewolf, then nobody could, short of, maybe, the Feleke Four.


    Why was she so worried, anyway? It was just a werewolf, damn it.


    But it wasn¡¯t just a werewolf anymore. Morgulon would never be ¡°just a werewolf¡± again. Morgulon was ¨C Lane wasn¡¯t sure what she was. Calling her a friend seemed wrong, Morgulon wasn¡¯t quite human enough for that, except...


    Plenty of people called their dog their friend, didn¡¯t they?


    How would Morgulon react, if she knew that Lane compared her to a dog? But she¡¯d probably just huff and repeat that humans were weird. Lane could see it, easily, Morgulon, not quite looking at her, but shrugging, could hear the exact tone of her voice as she spoke the words.


    Lane froze. Sun, she was in trouble, wasn¡¯t she?


    After a while, Lane realized that people were staring at her, so she climbed into the saddle, and went to find a place to spend the night. She knew where she was going without having to think about it. Northwold was one of those towns at the border between the densely populated and intensely agriculturally used flat areas of the heartlands and the much harsher, mountainous regions. So it had a few hotels catering especially to trappers, silver miners, and other people who only came in from the wild for short periods of time, who, while not necessarily the most refined of characters, still wanted to live like kings for those few days. Especially since they had the money to pay for it.


    Lane had always preferred the loud, boisterous atmosphere of those places over the posh, stuck-up hotels that tried to mimic the life at the Imperial courts and insisted on the same etiquette. There were or course plenty of cheaper places to spend the night, too, but Lane didn¡¯t want to miss the comfort. Just the attitude.


    She really, really did not want to be a lady tonight.


    Her father would have called the Beaver Tail a cesspit, a hotbed of vice and fornication, and would never have set foot in there.


    Or maybe, if Morgulon was right, he would just never have admitted to setting foot in there.


    A few months ago, Lane would have entered with a latent bad conscience, and the promise of a big sacrificial offering as soon as she was home. She could still almost feel her father¡¯s disapproving eyes on her, preaching to her about lust, and sin, and how just one step off the path of righteousness might damn a soul for all eternity.


    ¡°For this is our sanctification,¡± he used to say in that grave voice that had always made her giggle as a child, ¡°that we abstain from sexual immorality; that we know how to maintain our own bodies in holiness and honour, not let them be consumed in the maelstrom and passion of lust.¡±


    Today, it made her grin somewhat bitterly. Her life had been saved by a werewolf, a creature cursed by grand Mithras to suffer for all eternities in the icy pits of the deepest damnation, a creature all the righteous should kill on sight. And she hadn¡¯t just not killed it but saved its life in return. What was a little lust compared to that?


    Besides, it was perfectly possible to do both, at the same time. She could spend hours watching the whores, while still maintaining the ¡°holiness¡± of her own body. All without feeling the need to burn the place down.


    She asked for a room and dropped off her coat and what little else she carried with her. Northwold had hot, thermal springs, so she had a quick dinner and then went downstairs. The baths filled the whole basement, several rooms, some of them warm, some cold. There were divan beds for the guests to rest on, and stoves in most corners, heating big stones. Scantily-clad girls, and some young men, poured water and fragrant oils over the stones to fill the rooms with steam, served drinks, offered massages, danced to the music, and fulfilled whatever other wishes the guests might have.


    Lane smiled a little wistfully to herself as she got out of her clothes but kept a knife in a sheath tied to her ankle, just in case. As she wrapped herself in a towel provided by the Beaver¡¯s Tail, she wondered if Morgulon had ever, or in the past twenty years, had had a real bath, one with hot water, where she could lay all the way down, not sit in a trough and make do with a washcloth. Or worse, rub herself in snow to get clean, as she had done on new moon. Lane really wished she could show the werewolf all this.


    But there¡¯d be a panic, at the very least, if she brought Morgulon here, and she wasn¡¯t even sure how Morgulon would like this, the crowd, the noise from the gambling tables, the music, the heat, the press of naked bodies all around, often half-hidden in the steam. Lust was a strong smell, the werewolf had said. But was it a good smell? Or would the whole room be reeking to Morgulon?


    Lane found a free bench seat and dropped her towel, before climbing into the water. As soon as she did, a young girl appeared to ask what she wanted to drink and if she needed anything else. Lane ordered wine but declined all other offers, and then settled down for a nice, long soak. And then some more wine. For once, the serving girls were barely catching her eyes. Instead, she found herself wondering if perhaps she could buy more sweets to bribe Morgulon into turning human, just for an hour or two. Northwold would have a lot more variety on offer than the inns up in the highlands. She could get some of everything, find out what Morgulon liked best. She was looking forward to new moon, somehow.


    Lane found herself back in her room earlier than she had expected, alone, and a lot less drunk, too. In the past, when she had come to the Beaver, it had been for a night or two of wanton abandon, of too much of everything, and that generally included regret the morning after.


    This time, she wasn¡¯t even hungover, so she got up early, had the new horse saddled, and left for the intersection close to the centre of town where the confectioners, sweet shops, and chocolatiers had their shops. After a quick look around it became clear that ¡°getting some of everything¡± was out of the question; there was no way Lane could transport that much food. Especially not the delicate creations sold here. After a moment of consideration, Lane picked three different shops that looked promising. The plan was to get a small selection from each shop, but it was hard to choose just a little when it all looked so good. And she wasn¡¯t even particularly fond of sweets.


    Lane stared at the large parcel and considered leaving it at that. But Morgulon would need more sustenance, so she went on towards the nearest butchery. And then a bakery, too.


    Despite her early start, it was almost noon by the time Lane left Northwold, packs full of food on her back, and tied to the saddle. Enough for a month, or at least a couple of weeks, if it were just her. As it was, Lane would be surprised if the supplies she had bought lasted until full moon.


    She still should have gotten less. The pack was so heavy, the horse was tired by the time she reached the forest where she had last seen Morgulon. Once she stood underneath the bare trees, she didn¡¯t have to ride very far. Morgulon found her quickly. Lane had to get out of the saddle and calm the panicked horse before it threw her off. Morgulon said hello by bumping her huge head into Lane¡¯s chest for a quick greeting, and then promptly began to sniff out the packs of food. The horse rolled its eyes but didn¡¯t run away.


    ¡°Want some?¡± Lane asked, and tried to sound nonchalantly about it. ¡°I brought some more tuck. That¡¯s what it¡¯s called around here, right? Have you ever eaten chocolate?¡±


    She had expected Morgulon to nod or shake her head, but to Lane¡¯s surprise and secret delight, the werewolf took a couple of steps forward, and somehow, between the first and the second, the huge creature flowed together into her human form.


    She was holding out her hand before it had fully re-formed as a hand and stumbled a little over her missing two paws. She didn¡¯t say a word, but her eyes were huge, and Lane grinned.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking that as a yes,¡± she said and dug into her bags.


    Morgulon stared at the clothes she offered her, then sighed, and took them. Putting them on was a struggle, as usual.


    Lane smiled but looked around. ¡°Let¡¯s get off the road,¡± she said, and Morgulon nodded, somewhat reluctantly. She still wasn¡¯t talking but took the lead. Apparently, she had a destination in mind, deeper in the forest than Lane had expected. She was happy to carry some of the food, though, so Lane didn¡¯t mind following her for nearly an hour, even though the trees were too dense to ride. Eventually, they reached a cave, quite a deep hole in the side of a hill, the entrance narrow enough that it should be fairly easy to warm the air inside. Morgulon looked at her questioningly and put down the pack outside.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Lane asked.


    Morgulon nodded. ¡°Food, please,¡± she whispered after a moment.


    ¡°Sweets first or bread and ham first?¡± Lane asked. When Morgulon didn¡¯t answer, she pulled out the fresh bread she had gotten them, butter, and a large piece of ham. Morgulon started ripping pieces out of the loaf before Lane was finished.


    ¡°Did you see anyone out here?¡± Lane asked while she tied the horse to a tree, giving it some feed as well.


    Morgulon hesitated for a long time, chewing slowly, but eventually nodded, swallowing hard, and pointed at herself.


    Lane frowned. ¡°Another werewolf?¡±


    Morgulon nodded.


    ¡°Trouble?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Should I...¡±


    She broke off when Morgulon shook her head violently.


    ¡°All right,¡± Lane said. ¡°I¡¯ll leave them alone.¡±


    Morgulon relaxed visibly at those words, and Lane sat down opposite from her, pulling her knees to her chest. Trying to make herself less threatening, which was ridiculous ¨C she was pretty sure Morgulon could transform and kill her easily before she could grab the crossbow she had put down with the food. Within arms¡¯ reach, but still.


    And yet, Morgulon appeared to have been worried on behalf of this unknown werewolf.


    ¡°A sane one, I take it?¡± Lane asked, doing her best to sound like she really wasn¡¯t all that interested.


    Morgulon nodded. Since she still wasn¡¯t talking, Lane told her about Big Bart and Little Roy, and the newspaper article. That finally brought a small smile to Morgulon¡¯s face.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Lane asked when Morgulon went back to concentrating on her food.


    She had to wait a long time until Morgulon finally asked: ¡°Eoforwic?¡±


    Her jaws were working like she was trying to force out more words, but then she just began drawing lines into the cold earth.


    Lane considered the question. ¡°I said we¡¯d go there, is that what you mean?¡±


    Morgulon nodded.


    ¡°Right,¡± Lane said. ¡°Sorry, I should have told you about that. I¡¯ve changed my mind. I sent Duke George Louis a letter, to let him know that I¡¯m taking you home. To where I live, when I¡¯m not hunting.¡±


    Morgulon tilted her head and looked at Lane quizzically.


    ¡°Why?¡± Lane smiled wryly. ¡°The duke already has a werewolf who works for him. Guy¡¯s name is Gregory Feleke. I think I¡¯ve mentioned him before. He used to be a werewolf hunter, like his whole family, but got bitten early last spring and has worked for the railway since then. He protected the workers who built the line from Eoforwic to Sheaf. He originally signed up with a crew just to get out, get away from populated areas, but they got attacked by the Rot before his first full moon with them. These workers, they actually asked him to stay, even after they knew. Duke George Louis, he didn¡¯t find out about it until after the line was finished. That¡¯s when he met Greg and sent me and Greg¡¯s family out to find other sane werewolves.¡±


    Lane shrugged. ¡°Anyway. My point is, Greg isn¡¯t like you. Like, at all. You could meet him, and think he¡¯s as ordinary as the next guy. And I¡¯m worried whether Duke George Louis realizes that a sane werewolf isn¡¯t necessarily like that. If he did, he probably wouldn¡¯t have asked us to bring all stable werewolves we find straight to Eoforwic.


    You don¡¯t need to worry,¡± Lane added quickly because Morgulon had put her bread down, looking scared. ¡°There¡¯s a big stretch of forest where I live, nobody ever goes there. There¡¯s an old battlefield nearby, and, well, there¡¯s a lot of the Rot. It¡¯ll be safe, and I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯ve got enough to eat, don¡¯t worry. The duke can come there, meet you, we¡¯ll show him that you aren¡¯t one of the mad ones. He can decide whether he wants you on the railway. And if not, well, it¡¯d be great if you can drive the Rot out of my forest.¡±


    Morgulon picked at her bread, pulling out the soft innards from the crust, nodding slowly.


    Lane hesitated. ¡°Do you think ¨C could you keep the White Torrent free of the Rot?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Morgulon said softly, and Lane found herself smiling at that little word because it was an unnecessary word. But apparently, Morgulon was calming down a little. ¡°Want me?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ¨C it¡¯s not that easy,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°Duke George Louis, he ¨C he will decide what he wants you to do. And me, too,¡± she had to admit.


    ¡°Shoot me?¡±


    Lane frowned. ¡°Did I shoot you because he wanted me too? When I first found you?¡±


    Morgulon shook her head. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then made a fist and opened that again, staring into the forest, visibly frustrated. Her forehead was carved with deep lines.


    ¡°No,¡± she said and repeated the word. ¡°No.¡± That small word seemed to unlock more, and she added: ¡°What if. Now. He says: shoot me?¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t,¡± Lane said. ¡°That wouldn¡¯t ¨C Duke George Louis wants ¨C he wants to become king of Loegrion. He hasn¡¯t outright said it, but it¡¯s pretty clear that he¡¯s after the crown. But that means he first has to drive out the Valoise. And to do that, he has to find a way to fight the Rot, because otherwise, even if he can put together a bigger army than they, they¡¯ll just raise the Rot and the duke will be turned over to the Inquisition.¡±


    ¡°You,¡± Morgulon pointed out. ¡°Valoise.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, he ¨C he knows things about me, stuff that would ¨C would get me killed, too. I can¡¯t prove that he¡¯s planning a rebellion, and he ¨C he¡¯s powerful. And he¡¯s got powerful friends. So he roped me into finding werewolves for him, even though I didn¡¯t think it was really possible. Until you saved my life and killed those Rot creatures in the mountains.¡±


    Lane shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re probably the oldest werewolf in all of Loegrion right now. He needs you. He may not want you on the railway, because he needs to find a lot of people to build that, and you might scare them. But there are a lot of other places where he can still use your help. Use your power. You said the werewolf who defended the well of the White Torrent had seen a thousand full moons. There¡¯s nobody even close to that age, as far as we know. But Duke George Louis will be very interested in keeping the river free, so he might want you to try. Or he might even send you all the way to the source of the Savre.¡±


    Lane thought about it. ¡°Or maybe not. The source of the Savre is probably too far away. He¡¯ll want you closer, in case the Valoise come after him. Hell, he might even want you as a sort of bodyguard, eventually.¡±


    ¡°Chocolate?¡± Morgulon asked, hopeful, when Lane fell silent.


    Lane grinned about that and pulled out the sweets. ¡°I brought more, this time,¡± she said.


    The werewolf stared at the three parcels. ¡°Lots,¡± she said.


    ¡°Yeah, well, I didn¡¯t know what you might like,¡± Lane said.


    Morgulon huffed a laugh. ¡°Food,¡± she pointed out. ¡°I like food. All.¡±


    Lane shrugged. ¡°Figured you might like some things more than others.¡±


    Morgulon seemed to find that funny. Lane grinned, too, about her excitement. She started building a fire since it was getting dark already, while Morgulon tried different sweets.


    ¡°Duke,¡± Morgulon said suddenly. ¡°You say. He wants king. Be king?¡±


    ¡°He wants to be king of Loegrion, yes,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°How?¡± Morgulon asked. ¡°Before Greg. How?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really know,¡± Lane said. ¡°I think his plan was completely based on the railway. You see, if he could get a line built all the way across the mountains, from the east to the west coast, he could open up so much land. All the gold people think is up there could be his, and even if there is no gold, he would control the trade. He wouldn¡¯t just get rich, he would also make a lot of people dependent on himself.¡±


    ¡°But. Mannin? Sheaf?¡±


    Lane couldn¡¯t help herself, she had to laugh so hard at herself, she couldn¡¯t answer right away.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said when Morgulon glared at her. ¡°It¡¯s not a funny question, really, it¡¯s just ¨C I keep wondering how much you even understand, and then you pick up a detail like that.¡±


    Morgulon huffed again but kept staring at Lane from the corner of her eye.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Lane repeated. ¡°Sheaf was a test, I think. And I also heard somebody say that the company needed the iron that¡¯s smelted in Sheaf, to make the rails.¡±


    ¡°Preparation,¡± Morgulon said.


    ¡°Yes, probably,¡± Lane confirmed.


    ¡°Duke,¡± Morgulon continued. ¡°Honest?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on it,¡± Lane said. ¡°But I don¡¯t know him all that well.¡±


    ¡°Greedy?¡±


    ¡°Greedy for power.¡±


    ¡°Count on that?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you can count on that,¡± Lane said, smiling wryly.


    ¡°So. I help, he protect?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll protect you, yes. As long as he considers you useful, he¡¯ll do his best to keep you alive. He¡¯ll throw you to the wolves to save his own hide, though.¡±


    Morgulon smiled at that. ¡°Rot,¡± she said. ¡°Me. Always useful.¡±


    Lane smiled, too.


    ¡°Old plan, railway,¡± Morgulon continued. ¡°Many, many years, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lane said. ¡°The duke¡¯s old plan would likely have taken decades. I think that¡¯s why the Valoise have allowed him to continue. They aren¡¯t really worried about it yet, and in the meantime, they will profit from his railways as much as everyone else.¡±


    Morgulon nodded. ¡°One werewolf, help. More werewolves, much faster, yes?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how many more sane werewolves there even are,¡± Lane said. ¡°But I bet the duke will try to find as many as possible, yes, to speed things up.¡±


    Morgulon thought about that for a long time, studying the piece of candied fruit she was holding. ¡°War?¡± she finally asked.


    ¡°What about war?¡±


    There was another long pause. ¡°You say Valoise don¡¯t act. Because no danger. But with werewolves? More danger.¡±


    Lane thought about that. Morgulon was right, unfortunately. If Duke George Louis found enough werewolves to pose a significant danger, the Empire would act. Decisively.


    ¡°I guess he¡¯ll try to keep it all a secret,¡± Lane said slowly. ¡°But I don¡¯t know. He doesn¡¯t exactly tell me the details of his plans. Are you still going to help?¡±


    Morgulon nodded. ¡°Valoise gone. No more Church. Means a chance for us. To get left alone.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Lane said quietly. It was true, probably. The Church was often the only entity that put up bounties on sane werewolves. And without the base prize that the Empire paid for every dead werewolf, the only reason to go after a sane one would be the price of the pelt. A lot of hunters would think twice if that was worth the risk. Some might even stop hunting altogether.


    Morgulon was picking her way through an assortment of biscuits and didn¡¯t speak anymore. Lane wasn¡¯t surprised. She had talked a lot. The werewolf seemed to be less worried about the fire than she had been when they had first met, too.


    They reached Warden Hall two days after the next new moon, late at night, when hopefully all the servants were fast asleep. There weren¡¯t that many to begin with, since Lane was hardly ever home. A handful of guards would be on duty, too, but she knew exactly where they would be patrolling, and it wasn¡¯t hard to avoid them. Lane placed her new horse in one of the paddocks of the estate. Morgulon followed her, human, because it was easier, and very obviously uncomfortable.


    ¡°Are we ¨C breaking in?¡± she asked after one of the guards had walked past them and around a corner.


    ¡°It¡¯s my house,¡± Lane said. ¡°I don¡¯t think that counts as breaking in.¡±


    ¡°Climbing the wall?¡±


    ¡°Would you rather introduce yourself?¡± Lane hissed back.


    Morgulon shuddered but followed Lane without another word. They did, in fact, climb the wall, slipped through the kitchen garden, and in through the kitchen door. It didn¡¯t so much as creak, the hinges well oiled.


    ¡°Your house?¡± Morgulon asked when Lane put the keys away.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lane replied. ¡°Why are you sounding so surprised?¡±


    Morgulon shrugged. ¡°Your father,¡± she said, while they climbed the dark stairs. ¡°Lay priest.¡±


    Lane turned around to stare at her. Morgulon was so nervous, she was almost vibrating out of her own skin ¨C literally. She seemed to have serious troubles to keep her human form, her lower arms and hands shifting visibly even in the low light, fingers growing and shrinking, fur drawing a pattern on her skin and vanishing again.


    Lane shook her head. There was probably no point in asking her where she had heard that, not right now, so Lane continued up the stairs.


    ¡°Father was born noble,¡± she explained. ¡°But he was the youngest of three brothers, and there was nothing for him to inherit. So he was sent away to become a priest. He never said what happened next, but it was pretty clear that he didn¡¯t come to Loegrion because he enjoyed the climate here so much. He never got to go through the first trial, anyway, so yeah, technically he was only a lay priest. He was a zealot, though, and a good preacher. A bit of an ascetic. I guess that¡¯s what impressed my mother. She was a countess, this land was hers. She had to marry to keep it, so perhaps father¡¯s low rank was appealing, too. Gave her more influence than if she had married someone higher born.¡±


    Lane opened the door to her bedroom. ¡°There we are.¡±


    Morgulon looked around the generous suite. Another shudder shook her body, fur sprouting all over her skin and vanishing again within a heartbeat.


    ¡°Stay here?¡± she asked. She did not sound happy.


    Lane sighed inwardly. She had known that this was a bad idea, and still hadn¡¯t been able to stop herself. ¡°We won¡¯t make it all the way to the safe parts of the forest tonight,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s just for the day. I¡¯ll get you out of here tomorrow, soon as it¡¯s dark.¡±


    Morgulon¡¯s face said quite clearly that she would have preferred an unsafe part of the forest over spending a whole day indoors.


    ¡°I¡¯ll round up some food, how about that?¡± Lane asked.


    Morgulon was still hesitating, which just showed how freaked out she was.


    ¡°Half a deer,¡± Lane offered. At which point Morgulon breathed out in relief, shredding the clothes Lane had given her, as she transformed.


    ¡°Right,¡± Lane said. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    She closed the door behind herself and stopped at the landing, listening for a few seconds. There was no sound beyond her own too-quick breathing. She really should have just taken Morgulon to the forest. If one of the maids ran into her, someone would have a heart attack, and Lane wasn¡¯t sure who it would be. Morgulon did not like being indoors. At all.


    Lane shook her head and walked downstairs, not bothering to be quiet. Everyone was fast asleep, and most of the servants slept in a different part of the building anyway. She had thought the biggest issue would be keeping Morgulon hidden, and that wasn¡¯t such a big issue after all. She could always hide Morgulon in the dressing room, which she never used and therefore got dusted only once a week. She hadn¡¯t expected Morgulon¡¯s reaction to be the far bigger issue.


    Lane sighed softly. She had half hoped she could keep Morgulon around, at least until Duke George Louis demanded her help on the line to Mannin. They could make some room, down in the coal cellar, close the trapdoors, it would be fine for full moon. The people working here were long since used to crazy. With her father, it had been the introduction of obscure fast days he had made everybody observe, overly strict sumptuary laws, prayer times that would change with his moods, ceremonies he would sometimes force them, sometimes forbid them from attending. After his death, Lane knew she hadn¡¯t been much better, sometimes demanding that everybody upheld the strict rules her father had set, sometimes yelling at them just for mentioning L¨¦on deLande.


    Later, it had been the awkward attempts at flirting with the girls and women on staff, especially after a bottle of wine, which even Lane would have liked to forget. And always the dirty, bloody clothes, strange injuries, the fights she got into with guests, when they wouldn¡¯t take no for an answer, the all around inappropriate behaviour for a lady.


    It could have worked. If the servants hadn¡¯t turned her over to the Inquisition yet, they likely wouldn¡¯t do it for bringing a werewolf into the household, especially once they saw what Morgulon did to the Rot.


    But it would only work if Morgulon was willing, and it didn¡¯t look like she was. A frightened werewolf was a lot scarier than a happy one.


    Lane reached the cold cellar underneath the kitchen, were in a corner, meat was hanging to ripen. Mr. Alby the gamekeeper regularly turned in his kills, and there was, in fact, half a deer hanging there. Lane took it down and grabbed herself a bottle of gin on the way out.


    Morgulon had hidden herself behind the large four-poster bed, which was actually big enough to shield her from view, at least to anybody standing in the door. The torn clothes on the floor, of course, were not exactly inconspicuous. When Lane came in, the werewolf raised her head, eager for the meat, but hesitant to come out of her corner.


    Lane put down the game right by the door, because a half deer was bloody heavy, and watched how Morgulon skulked up to it, ears flicking and nose working as if she expected a trap. Then she grabbed it with her teeth and pulled it with her, but instead of eating, she laid down, sniffed one of the carpets, got up again, and dragged the half deer a little further. Finally, she turned to Lane, head slanted, and pawed at the floor.


    She had to repeat the gesture before Lane got it. ¡°You are ¨C you are worried about the rugs?¡± she finally asked, a little incredulous. ¡°Right. Here.¡± Lane pulled one of them away, revealing the ancient oak floors underneath. There was already a stain there, probably from when somebody had dropped a pot of gleaming ash. Lane had forgotten about that, but Morgulon placed the deer right on top of it.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°I swear it is, don¡¯t worry about the bloody floor. Or about getting the floor bloody.¡±


    Morgulon growled softly and finally sunk her teeth into the meat. Lane sat down in one of the armchairs by the cold fireplace and opened her bottle. The sound of Morgulon chewing through bone should have been disturbing, but somehow wasn¡¯t. She could sleep to that sound, actually. And Morgulon was calming down as well.


    ¡°Should I get you something to drink as well?¡± Lane asked, and took a sip of gin.


    Morgulon¡¯s ears flicked, but she never looked up.


    Lane looked around the room. ¡°Are you fine with drinking from a flower pot? Right, of course you are.¡±


    Morgulon didn¡¯t look up, when Lane left the room again and walked down to the kitchen a second time. There was still some water there, from the little well outside. She filled a carafe, and back in her room poured the water into a large flower pot. Morgulon lapped some but quickly returned to her meal.


    Lane watched her in silence, sipping from her bottle every now and then. She wasn¡¯t quite sure how it happened, but eventually, she found herself back on the floor, Morgulon curled up against her back. Just like when Morgulon first saved her life.

 Chapter 16

    Greg jogged alongside Dolly in his wolf form, out to where Eyal, Isaac, and the rest of the crew were working on the line to Northwold. Some of the workers looked up when he and Andrew passed them, and some even waved at them, before turning back to felling trees. It was raining slush that turned the ground into mud, and the sun hadn¡¯t shown itself for days, but the work was progressing anyway.


    There was only the faintest whiff of the Rot in the air.


    Andrew stopped when he spotted Isaac and Thoko and waved them over.


    ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Porter¡¯s boring,¡± Isaac said promptly, grinning at Greg. ¡°And the weather is getting on everybody¡¯s nerves, ye know. But other than that, can¡¯t complain.¡±


    ¡°Eyal¡¯s over there somewhere,¡± Thoko added.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Isaac sniffed. ¡°He¡¯s keeping an eye on the new ¡®volunteers¡¯. Those guys are way more trouble than the werewolves, I tell ye.¡±


    Greg wasn¡¯t surprised. The new ¡°volunteers¡± were once again mostly prisoners, who hadn¡¯t been given much choice.


    ¡°So the boy is fitting in okay?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Kid¡¯s great,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Weird, but great. Can barely lift a shovel, but still wants to help with the work, when the weather is fine. Porter just sits on his arse and drinks beer, when he¡¯s not needed. Speaking of the devil.¡±


    The kid¡¯s name was Oli, and he had been brought to the crew by his parents just recently, as a result of the rumours that Eyal had spread. He was only eleven, but had been a werewolf for even longer than Porter, kept well hidden by his father, who was the knacker for the villages north of Eoforwic. Oli cheerfully admitted that he had lived pretty much on the carcasses his father had been tasked to take away and that he really hadn¡¯t minded eating carrion. He was very happy, though, that he could roam free now, as long as he stayed near the crews, and didn¡¯t have to hide in the coal cellar all the time.


    Whenever Greg saw him, he could absolutely understand the resentment the Morgulon had stirred against werewolf hunters. There was something about the huge puppy with the grey and black and brown fur, the awkwardly large paws, and the one floppy ear that was just too charming. Greg could see that every single worker he clumped past had to smile. His thin tail wagged excitedly when he saw Greg, and if he hadn¡¯t been so large, he could have easily passed for a normal puppy.


    Unlike Greg and Porter, he was equally at home in both forms, maybe even a little more comfortable as a wolf.


    Andrew and Isaac laughed when Oli walked up to Greg and sniffed him, curious. When Greg shouldered him away because he tried to push his nose up his backside as well, Oli grinned a doggy grin, tongue lolling out at the side, and retreated.


    ¡°No butt sniffing, huh?¡± Isaac asked, smirking. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯s tried it on all of us.¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes at Isaac.


    ¡°How¡¯s Gavrel settling into his new role?¡± Andrew changed the topic.


    Isaac shrugged. ¡°Pretty well, I think. Not seeing much of him though, cause he got to stick to his crew. Haven¡¯t heard about any issues, though. I reckon Ruadh is finally working out.¡±


    Ruadh had been the second new werewolf who had hired on with the Lackland Company. Porter had been the first, and it had been surprisingly easy to convince him once he had seen that Greg had survived his meeting with Duke George Louis. Afterwards, Greg had been free to go with his brothers. That way, at least a couple of werewolves had been willing to talk to them, but only Ruadh had actually signed up. He had been a hunter and had gotten bitten a few months before Greg. David had sniffed him out. Ruadh didn¡¯t get along with Porter, though. This had led to Gavrel forming a crew of his own quicker than originally planned, like Eyal¡¯s crew mostly made up of Wayfarers.


    ¡°To what do we owe this visit, anyway?¡± Thoko asked.


    ¡°Duke wants to make sure everything here is going smoothly,¡± Andrew explained. ¡°Since Greg and I are going to be away for a while.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°Home,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Officially, to see if there¡¯s anyone around that stretch of the woods worth sending here, but mostly because mother finally wants to see with her own two eyes how Greg¡¯s doing.¡±


    ¡°Seems rather pointless, looking for werewolves around Deva,¡± Isaac pointed out.


    ¡°Which is why we¡¯ll be going to Courtenay,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Oh, I see how it is,¡± Isaac quipped. ¡°Leaving us peasants for your cosy country get-away.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Andrew said, grinning. ¡°Until the winter is over.¡±


    They didn¡¯t get to hear what Isaac thought about that, because Oli was running towards them, growling and barking. The young werewolf went past them as if somebody had set his tail on fire, vanishing behind the trees. Greg stared after him for a second, and then he, too, caught the distant splatter of hooves in the mud. He took off after Oli and hoped that Porter had gone into hiding as well. Dolly ran alongside him.


    When the trees closed behind them, he realized that Thoko and Isaac where jogging after them, as fast as their heavy boots allowed it in the mud. They had barely made it out of sight from the aisle the crew had cleared when a group of riders appeared. The foremost one was a priest of Mithras, recognized easily by his red robes. He was followed by a dozen guards ¨C not just any guards, but the elite Uronian Guards which only the Inquisition could send out. They, too, were impossible to mistake, for they carried the banner of Mithras before them.


    ¡°Well, shit,¡± Andrew muttered.


    Eyal arrived just as the priest ¨C or rather the inquisitor ¨C reined in his horse, which was already snorting nervously. No doubt it could smell the werewolves just barely hidden out of sight.


    ¡°Who¡¯s in charge here?¡± called the priest.


    ¡°I am,¡± Eyal said. He sounded a lot calmer than Greg would have been in his place. ¡°How can we serve the Church today, Monseigneur?¡±


    ¡°We have received word of a witch who is protecting this camp,¡± the priest said. ¡°She is to be handed over immediately, or we will search this camp and take those hiding her.¡±


    Eyal didn¡¯t blink. ¡°You are certainly welcome to search our camp,¡± he said. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid you have been misled. There is no woman here.¡±


    ¡°So you are saying that there is no heathen witch, black as the devil, protecting your workers? Make no mistake, we have talked to the Duke of Mannin, and he, too, has told us about a dark-skinned girl wearing men¡¯s clothes among you. He said her name was Thoko Banda.¡±


    Next to Greg, Thoko was taking a few involuntary steps away from the inquisitor. Andrew held out a hand.


    Behind the inquisitor¡¯s back, Anshel was giving Eyal signs, probably to tell him that Thoko had gotten clear.


    ¡°There was a girl by that name, yes,¡± Eyal said. ¡°But she left us at Eoforwic a while ago, and I have not seen any magic from her.¡± He spread his arms. ¡°Please, have a look, Monseigneur.¡±


    The inquisitor wasn¡¯t stupid, unfortunately. ¡°You six,¡± he said, pointing at the soldiers to his right, ¡°search the forest. The rest of you, search the camp. Double rations for the man who brings me the witch.¡±


    Andrew cursed. ¡°Greg, get Thoko out of here. Oli, go with them. Isaac, help Thoko.¡±


    Greg crouched as low as he could and he took off, as soon as Isaac had hoisted Thoko onto his back. He didn¡¯t wait to see what else happened, but he could hear Andrew ride forward, calling to the soldiers.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± he warned them. ¡°There¡¯s a werewolf in the area.¡±


    Greg could only hope that that would give them pause. Thoko was hanging on with both arms and legs, painfully tight, and Greg thought he could hear her crying.


    Oli only followed them a few hundred yards, before he stopped. Greg would have preferred it if the kid had put some more distance between himself and the Inquisition, but he couldn¡¯t slow down ¨C and even if he could, he wouldn¡¯t have known how to tell him without changing shape.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Greg ran until even the supernatural strength of his wolf form began to falter, and each breath felt like he was breathing acid. They were miles and miles away from the railway, and probably any other human being, too.


    He slowed down to a walk, circling back, his breath coming in painful bursts.


    ¡°Are you going back?¡± Thoko asked, her voice shaking a little, but she loosened her death grip on Greg¡¯s neck.


    Greg nodded.


    ¡°What if they¡¯re still there?¡± Thoko whispered. ¡°I can¡¯t go back yet, Greg. I can¡¯t go back to the crew at all! If they return in a few days, and they find me... They¡¯ll kill everybody. Not just me.¡±


    Greg nodded again. He would have liked to reassure her that he just wanted to find Andrew again. That was the most annoying part of being wolf, that he couldn¡¯t talk. He would have liked to tell her that she could come with them, all the way to Courtenay, hide there, as long as necessary.


    ¡°Why would the duke tell them my name?¡± Thoko asked, sounding forlorn. ¡°What if they go after my mother, too?¡±


    Greg could only guess that the Inquisition had pressured the duke and that Thoko had been the weakest link, the one the duke had felt would be the smallest loss if he hung her to dry.


    ¡°I guess your brother warned me about him,¡± Thoko muttered after a while, sounding bitter. ¡°That he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to turn somebody over to the Valoise.¡±


    It¡¯ll be fine, Greg wanted to tell her. There was certainly enough room for her mother as well at Courtenay. She could even bury her father there, bury him in purified earth, as safe from the Rot as a burial in the ground could be in Loegrion.


    But he could only carry her onwards.


    It was getting darker, though it was hard to tell if that was because of the time of day or if the snow clouds were yielding to darker rainclouds. Greg forced himself to pick up the pace again. Better if he got Andrew and Thoko out of this forest tonight. And if the Inquisition was still there, well, then they¡¯d find out just how hard it was to kill a werewolf.


    The priest and his entourage were gone by the time Greg reached the camp, the fire grilles set up around the tents, and Oli and Porter on their guard, while the workers were eating dinner. At a first glance, it looked as if everybody was still there. Andrew sat with Eyal and Isaac at the biggest fire. All heads went up when Greg walked in through the breach in the fire grilles.


    Carefully, a little unsteadily, did Thoko sink to the ground. She stumbled when she hurried over to Eyal, and he caught her before she could fall, wrapped his huge arms around her.


    ¡°How...¡± Thoko began and stopped herself. ¡°Did they... Is everybody...¡±


    ¡°Nobody here was harmed,¡± Eyal reassured her. ¡°It¡¯s all right. They searched the camp, but they didn¡¯t find anything they could use as an excuse to kill anybody. It¡¯s all right, Thoko. They¡¯re gone.¡±


    ¡°What if they come back?¡± Thoko whispered.


    Eyal held her even tighter, his face full of grief. ¡°Come, sit down,¡± he said. ¡°Andrew has a suggestion to make.¡±


    When he let go of her, Isaac stepped in to hug her as well. Andrew offered her a smile while running a hand through Greg¡¯s fur.


    ¡°If you want to stay, you can,¡± Eyal said when Thoko finally sat down at the log next to the fire. Greg laid down behind her on the ground.


    ¡°We¡¯ll never send you away, I want you to know that. We¡¯ll do our best to hide you.¡±


    Greg could feel Thoko shudder, and she bowed her head. ¡°But it would be dangerous,¡± she whispered. ¡°For all of you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s already dangerous for all of us,¡± Eyal pointed out.


    ¡°You could come with us,¡± Andrew said, ¡°to Courtenay. Mother will find a place for you somewhere within the household. It¡¯ll be a lot harder for the Inquisition to find you there.¡±


    ¡°What about my mother?¡± Thoko asked softly.


    ¡°Bring her too,¡± Andrew said, shrugging.


    ¡°For ¨C for how long?¡±


    ¡°As long as it¡¯s necessary,¡± Andrew said. ¡°It¡¯s not all the way north of Mannin, but it¡¯s still a place where the arm of the Church rarely reaches. The house is barely staffed, too, so nobody will bat an eye when we bring in more people.¡±


    When Thoko didn¡¯t say anything, Eyal handed her a bowl of stew. ¡°Eat,¡± he said. ¡°Take some time to think about it. There¡¯s no point in risking the journey back in the dark, anyway.¡±


    Greg groaned softly. He would have liked some food as well, and he would have liked to eat it with a spoon, not straight from the bowl.


    He jumped when Andrew threw his clothes at him.


    The three of them left long before dawn the next morning, Andrew on Dolly¡¯s back, and Thoko once again on Greg¡¯s. There had been a lot of hugging, and even Eyal had shed a few tears. He had made them promise that they would stop by Gavrel¡¯s crew to warn them and say goodbye.


    Thoko was very quiet when they left that second camp. Andrew made some attempts to draw her out, but when it became clear that she wasn¡¯t in the mood to be cheered up, he let her be.


    Greg could have turned human again, and they could have all walked, but he didn¡¯t, and for once he didn¡¯t mind that he couldn¡¯t talk as a wolf. Because while Thoko wasn¡¯t speaking ten words a day, keeping her distance from Andrew and wearing her silence like armour, she often ran a hand through his fur. At night, at the campfire, she would lean against his flank, and even bury her face in the thick mane around his neck. Greg was pretty sure that she simply forgot that he wasn¡¯t a giant dog or a very strange horse, or some other animal after all. He didn¡¯t mind. At least he could offer a little comfort to her this way.


    ¡°It feels like losing even more of my family,¡± Thoko said, out of nowhere, when they stopped for lunch the next day, and Andrew looked up from stoking the fire.


    ¡°I mean, they aren¡¯t really my relatives,¡± Thoko continued, brushing her fingers through Greg¡¯s mane over and over in an absentminded motion. ¡°Just...¡± She broke off again.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said after a moment, running a hand across her face. ¡°This is stupid.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Andrew said. ¡°You lost your father, and now you¡¯re losing the people who took you in afterwards, and helped you find a purpose again. There¡¯s nothing stupid about this.¡±


    ¡°Some people would say I should be grateful for being alive and having even more people who are willing to help me,¡± Thoko said, still not looking at Andrew.


    ¡°Some people are idiots,¡± Andrew said calmly. ¡°And also probably didn¡¯t have their parents murdered by the Inquisition.¡±


    There was a long silence, and for a moment Greg thought Thoko would retreat back into it. But then she whispered: ¡°Thank you. Thank you,¡± she repeated, ¡°for risking your life for me.¡±


    Andrew smiled at that. ¡°Not much of a risk,¡± he pointed out. ¡°Not if you compare it to everything else going on. The Inquisition doesn¡¯t even know what you look like. All they have is a name and the fact that you are black. Use a different name, and they have nothing. Asides, they¡¯re looking for a witch, and you aren¡¯t, are you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Thoko said softly. ¡°But what difference does that make? It¡¯s not like the Inquisition never uses trumped-up charges.¡±


    Andrew shrugged. ¡°They do,¡± he admitted, unperturbed. ¡°But this isn¡¯t like that. They truly believe that you are a witch. They¡¯ll be looking for you in places where unsanctioned magic users get their supplies, question herbalists, and maybe even use alchemy to find somebody who actually carries the stink of magic. None of which will do them any good, since you aren¡¯t who they think you are.¡±


    ¡°Father was a healer, though,¡± Thoko said quietly, pulling up her knees and wrapping her arms around them. Her back was still leaning against Greg¡¯s flank. ¡°If they find that connection, they might find people who remember me, get a better description. And they might guess that Eyal warned me somehow, widen their search area.¡±


    ¡°Did you keep any of your father¡¯s equipment?¡± Andrew asked.


    Thoko shook her head. ¡°We couldn¡¯t. The Inquisition took it all, piled it onto his pyre. I found a copper amulet, when ¨C when we took ¨C took him down...¡±


    Greg shuddered when her voice broke and she made herself even smaller. After a moment, she pulled a slightly deformed pendant out from underneath her clothes and stared at it.


    ¡°It was supposed to be a protective charm for me,¡± she said softly. ¡°But there¡¯s no magic left, after it burned in the fire for so long.¡±


    ¡°Nothing they can use against you then,¡± Andrew said, gently.


    ¡°Should I throw it away anyway?¡± Thoko whispered. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly a forbidden symbol, but if they find it on me while I¡¯m with you...¡±


    Greg shook his head.


    ¡°If they find it on you, while you¡¯re with us, they¡¯ll need something more solid than a bit of copper,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Since you¡¯ll be in the company of the highly respected Baron of Courtenay, famed werewolf hunter. How old are you, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Almost twenty,¡± Thoko said. ¡°What¡¯s that got to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°Got a dress?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Andrew grinned. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll find you something suitable, for your mother, too. Then we call you lady so-and-so and claim you¡¯re Nathan¡¯s bride-to-be. Or mine. Or David¡¯s, if you prefer. Then the Inquisition will have to bring something really solid to bear if they want to touch you. Your mother can pretend to be your handmaiden.¡±


    Greg huffed, a little amused at the crazy idea and a little annoyed that Andrew hadn¡¯t even mentioned his name, though in Thoko¡¯s place he¡¯d probably have picked David. At least he was the heir.


    ¡°Yeah, not you, Greg,¡± Andrew said. ¡°We don¡¯t want any attention on you.¡±


    Thoko jumped when Andrew addressed Greg as if she only now remembered that he was there.


    Andrew continued as if he hadn¡¯t noticed: ¡°Actually, David is out, too. He¡¯s too highly eligible, being the heir and all, somebody is bound to take an interest if word gets out that he¡¯s engaged. We¡¯d have to present you in court, at the very least.¡±


    Thoko shuddered, leaning a little away from Greg, and poked around their small fire with a stick. ¡°I ¨C I don¡¯t know how I feel about that idea,¡± she finally said, which Greg thought was rather diplomatic.


    ¡°Greg thinks I¡¯m crazy,¡± Andrew said, grinning. ¡°I know that face, even on his other face.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Thoko asked, and turned to look at Greg. ¡°What, you don¡¯t think I could be a lady?¡±


    Greg tilted his head and frowned, because, wow, that wasn¡¯t just misconstruing what he had said, but words he hadn¡¯t said at all, too.


    ¡°Na,¡± Andrew said. ¡°I bet he just thinks you should be his lady. But seriously ¨C is there anyone? A fianc¨¦, or a husband even, or anyone else who might object?¡±


    Thoko shook her head, and after a few seconds relaxed back against Greg¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I have no idea what mother would say to this,¡± she said after a while. ¡°There¡¯s no one else, though, no.¡±


    She tugged at one of her braids. ¡°I never ¨C I never thought I¡¯d have to marry to save my life,¡± she said quietly.


    ¡°Not marry,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Just pretend to be engaged. And you don¡¯t have to, obviously. It was just an idea. If we protect you, we have to claim you as one of our own. And that means we either make up some kind of family connection or make you a servant of the household. I figured you¡¯d prefer the former, and making you some sort of distant cousin would be too easy to verify for the Inquisition if it comes down to it. But if we claim you¡¯re a lady from some southern province, the sheer distance will mean that disproving our story would take ages.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C I¡¯ll have to think about it,¡± Thoko said.


    Andrew just shrugged, and finally handed over bowls of food.


    ¡°Do you want to pack up alone, tomorrow?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°Or do you want us to give you a hand?¡±


    Thoko shook her head wildly, sending her braids flying. ¡°No, I ¨C Mother will help me,¡± she said quickly. She ate a few spoons full of stew, and added: ¡°When were you planning to leave for Courtenay?¡±


    Andrew shrugged again. ¡°We weren¡¯t in a hurry,¡± he said. ¡°Take a day or three to get everything ready ourselves, rest the horses, all that. Now I¡¯d say, the faster we leave, the better.¡±


    Thoko nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll be quick,¡± she said.

 Chapter 17

    They made it to the barony of Courtenay without needing to resort to Andrew¡¯s plan. Nobody challenged them, not even when they boarded the brand new Imperial Line, which was being built to connect the heartlands. Greg was pretty certain that the Valoise had only entered the race ¨C they were building a line from Deva to Eoforwic, while the Lackland Company had started in Eoforwic and was building towards Deva ¨C because the Roi Solei hated the thought of being outdone by Loegrians.


    Or maybe it was an attempt to impress the people of Loegrion. In any case, it saved George Louis the money of building a bridge across the Stour, though he would need a depot. Because of course the Imperial track''s gauges were different from the ones the Lackland company used.


    At every corner, it was evident how much more money this line was receiving, compared to what the duke had started. And yet, they didn¡¯t dare venture outside of the heartlands.


    ¡°If we had these kinds of resources, we¡¯d be halfway to Mannin already,¡± Thoko said darkly when they boarded their First Class compartment. ¡°Maybe even further.¡±


    ¡°Only if we could find enough people willing to work alongside werewolves,¡± Greg pointed out.


    ¡°Nah,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Look at this. Gilded ashtrays. If the duke could throw that kind of money around, we¡¯d find plenty of people. Finding werewolves might still be a little tricky,¡± she admitted as an afterthought.


    ¡°Think Lane deLande found anyone?¡± Greg asked, looking at David.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± his oldest brother said. ¡°She¡¯s a bloody good huntress, after all. Question is, can she convince anyone to go with her?¡±


    ¡°More like, can she stop herself from killing every werewolf she comes across,¡± Nathan said.


    ¡°I¡¯d reckon,¡± David said. ¡°I have no idea what George Louis has on her, but if he really owns her, she¡¯d be risking her own neck, if she goes against his orders. It¡¯s not like she¡¯s very popular with the Valoise.¡±


    Thoko frowned and played with her braids. ¡°I thought she¡¯s one of them?¡±


    ¡°That just makes it worse,¡± David explained. ¡°You know all those laws about cross-dressing? And proper women¡¯s work, and all that balderdash?¡±


    Thoko huffed. ¡°Intimately, yes.¡±


    David smiled thinly. ¡°See, technically, Lane deLande wears a very big woollen skirt that hides her legs, so even though it has slits for riding, they can¡¯t rightfully get her for that. But she still doesn¡¯t exactly look very ¡®demure¡¯ and ¡®lady-like¡¯ sitting astride her horse like a man, does she? And the hunting isn¡¯t proper ¡°woman¡¯s work¡±, but they can¡¯t get her for that either, because of the edict that every faithful follower of Mithras should do everything in his or her power to defeat the evil of werewolves. So while she¡¯s sticking to the letter of the law, it¡¯s not really the spirit of the law, is it?¡±


    ¡°And we all know how much priests love to have their own rules turned against them,¡± Andrew added.


    ¡°A farmer¡¯s wife in her working clothes doesn¡¯t exactly look like a lady, either,¡± Thoko pointed out.


    David shrugged. ¡°A farmer¡¯s wife doesn¡¯t own an earldom, a fortune, and a prestigious title that might just fall to the Church if only the bothersome shrew wasn¡¯t still attached to them.¡±


    ¡°Aah,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Now I see.¡±


    ¡°Also, your average farmer¡¯s wife doesn¡¯t have newspaper articles written about herself, setting an example for other young ladies,¡± Nathan said. ¡°DeLande is a hero to a lot of people, which is probably the only reason why the Inquisition hasn¡¯t moved against her, technicalities be damned.¡±


    ¡°Now I almost feel sorry for her,¡± Thoko muttered.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± Greg said darkly. ¡°I wish the duke had found somebody else.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he does,¡± David said, crossing his hands behind his head and relaxing into the plush upholstery of his seat. ¡°He needs a lot of werewolves if he wants to make it all the way to the west coast.¡±


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    ¡°The west coast isn¡¯t the issue here,¡± their father spoke quietly for the first time. ¡°There¡¯ll be war if George Louis tries to take the crown in earnest. The Valoise may not care much for Loegrion, but if they let us secede, too many other colonies will try to follow. I guarantee you, it¡¯s just a matter of time until the duke offers convicts a choice between the rope and a bite. He¡¯ll need an army of werewolves, or the High Inquisitor will simply raise the Rot and crush him like a bug underfoot. We all saw what just one tiny amulet did to those monsters.¡±


    Silence fell at those cheerful words, and they each settled into their seats, watching the landscape go by. Only Greg couldn¡¯t stop himself from glancing over to Thoko. He was so used to seeing her in her workman¡¯s clothes that it was always a little weird to see her in anything else. Especially in something as nice as the dress she was wearing now. He hadn¡¯t even known that Thoko knew how to ride side-saddle. Which was stupid, of course. Any woman living within the rule of the Valoise had to know how to ride side-saddle, unless she wanted to take the coach all the time.


    After a few seconds, he realized that Thoko¡¯s mother was watching him watching her daughter, and he felt the heat creep into his face. Luckily his skin was dark enough that he wouldn¡¯t blush like a strawberry. Yamikani had been so quiet throughout the journey, he sometimes forgot she was with them.


    She had been surprisingly fine with his affliction, with travelling with a werewolf. Or maybe she¡¯d just had a lot of time to get used to the idea of sane werewolves.


    They reached Courtenay exactly one month after the winter solstice, late in the afternoon. An icy cold wind was clawing at their faces and eating through their coats, and Greg was the only one who wasn¡¯t worried about freezing off his toes, because it was also just a few hours until the first night of full moon, and he had bigger things to worry about. He was riding Dolly again because no other horse would even let him come close, which had caused Andrew to sing praises on her bravery for hours, but even he had fallen silent sometime after lunch.


    Greg was trailing behind the others, so he wouldn¡¯t spook their mounts, and he was the only one who hadn¡¯t pulled down his hat and pulled his collar up over his nose. Despite the cold, he kept craning his head left and right, his gaze constantly searching the landscape. A year ago, riding down the familiar roads would have filled him with calm. Courtenay barony, and especially Heron Hall, used to be safe spaces. He had spent his summers here, played in the beautiful gardens, learned to ride in the wide-open fields, fired his first crossbow in the bright forest. He knew every tree and every stone around here, yet now he felt like he saw it all for the first time, the tiny villages with their meagre wooden palisades, the lonely farmsteads that often didn¡¯t even have that. Werewolves rarely ventured into these lands, since the Feleke family had been hunters for generations. The Rot was always looming, but even that had been hardly an issue, here in the heartlands, until all the trouble with the White Torrent had started.


    And now the danger came from the family itself.


    Greg shuddered at the thought, or maybe the cold. He wouldn¡¯t have to transform tonight, as long as he stayed awake, but tomorrow? He really hoped his mother had figured something out.


    ¡°How much further is it?¡± Thoko asked, her teeth chattering slightly, when the sun broke through underneath the clouds. ¡°I thought you¡¯d said we¡¯d reach Courtenay today?¡±


    ¡°We crossed the border about an hour ago,¡± David said. ¡°It¡¯ll be another two hours to the House, maybe a little more in this weather.¡±


    Thoko didn¡¯t say anything, but Greg saw how both she and her mother raised their faces out of their shawls and eyed the landscape with new interest.


    ¡°You okay, back there?¡± David called. His gelding pranced and threw his head nervously when he tried to lead him closer to Dolly.


    Greg had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snapping at his brother, and ended up not saying anything at all. He wished they would go faster, or maybe slower ¨C then at least he could have walked.


    ¡°Greg?¡±


    Greg took a deep breath and managed to say: ¡°I¡¯m as good as I¡¯m going to get,¡± with just a slight snarl to his voice.


    ¡°Right,¡± David said. ¡°Get a move on and leave you alone, yes?¡±


    ¡°Got any food left?¡±


    David laughed, and Greg buried his face in his collar to take another deep breath. Dolly snorted nervously as his hands cramped around the reins.


    ¡°Greg,¡± David called again, and when Greg looked up, tossed him a parcel wrapped in greaseproof paper, large as a brick and almost as heavy.


    It landed right in Greg¡¯s lap, and when he cut the many strings in which the whole thing was tied, he had to be careful to stop food from falling out. He found a piece of bread, slices of roasted black pudding, ham, and sausages, together with some hard cheese, and a few roasted vegetables. It looked like David had packed the leftovers ¨C all of them ¨C from their breakfast at the hotel.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he managed, before tucking in.


    David just chuckled and allowed his gelding to put some more distance between them.


    ¡°Why¡¯s he getting extra food, and I don¡¯t?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Cause Mum will have dinner ready when we get there,¡± David sighed.


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°Tell you what,¡± David huffed. ¡°If Greg bites you, I¡¯ll carry food for you round full moon, too.¡±


    ¡°That seems a little drastic,¡± Andrew gave back. David didn¡¯t answer, though, and the banter petered out again. Which was a shame; Greg had quite liked the distraction from the ache in his bones and the worry about what would happen once they reached the Hall. Maybe he shouldn¡¯t have been quite so adamant about being left alone around full moon.

 Chapter 18

    It was pitch black by the time they reached the gates to Heron Hall proper. A footman was waiting for them and hurried to open them wide. Bram tossed him a coin for his troubles, and the man bowed deeply. If the weather had been nicer, Bram might have stopped for a chat, but tonight, everyone just wanted to get inside. As they rode on, the footman sounded a horn, which echoed through the gardens that were hidden in darkness. Only the path to the house was lined with lamps, and they could see the lights from the Hall now. As they were coming closer, Greg could hear voices, too, and without even thinking about it, he slowed Dolly down.


    He had been certain that he had himself under better control than this by now, but suddenly his heart was racing and every fibre of his body was screaming for violence.


    Dolly stood very still underneath him, as if she could guess what was going through his head, as if she could feel his bones shifting even through the thick leather of the saddle. Maybe she could. Somehow, Greg managed to unclamp one of his fists, to place it on her neck. He wasn¡¯t sure which of them he was trying to calm down, but it didn¡¯t matter either way. Dolly pawed the ground with one foot, chewing at the bit, almost as if in warning, and after a few seconds, Greg trusted himself enough to nudge her gently onwards.


    It was a weird thought: that he probably wouldn¡¯t have dared to walk into the courtyard. But it was okay to ride in, to ride in on Dolly, because unlike his family, the mare wouldn¡¯t hesitate to carve his bones in with one of her iron-shod hooves, if he should lose it and turn on them.


    He stayed at the edge of the light flooding the yard in front of the Hall, staying out of the tangle of bodies of people dismounting, greeting each other, footmen leading the horses away, Thoko and her mother getting introduced all around. Yet, his feet had barely touched the ground when his mother was already standing in front of him, worrying her hands nervously. Her dark eyes searched his face, and before Greg could say anything, she wrapped her arms around him, gently at first, then tighter when he didn¡¯t protest, as if she never wanted to let go again.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Greg muttered and then felt stupid that he hadn¡¯t thought of anything better.


    His mother chuckled through the tears. ¡°Hello to you too.¡± She looked up to him and eased her hold on him a little, gripped his shoulders instead. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever dare run away like that again,¡± she whispered.


    Greg kept his mouth shut. He would have to run away again tomorrow unless Imani had found a place for him to go through the transformation safely.


    His mother stared at him as if she was trying to read his thoughts. ¡°Will you come inside?¡± she asked after a few seconds.


    Greg nodded. ¡°Won¡¯t make a difference,¡± he said. ¡°Just can¡¯t go to sleep.¡±


    As it turned out, that wasn¡¯t a problem. Nobody in Heron Hall seemed to sleep this night. Greg couldn¡¯t help but wonder what his parents had told the servants of the house. They gave him weird glances from the side but didn¡¯t seem to be worried about getting near him while they served dinner and drinks. It was past midnight by the time his mother had the tables cleared and they moved over to one of the sitting rooms, where Imani wanted to hear about everything that had happened. This, at least, was somewhat familiar to Greg, only that usually, he¡¯d been filled with a pang of envy when he listened in rapt silence to his brothers and father talk about another successful hunt.


    Tonight, he didn¡¯t really listen at all, just let the words wash over him while he focused on keeping his breathing even and staying awake.


    Eventually, his mother retired with Thoko and Yamikani, to show them where they could sleep, and silence settled over the room, interrupted only by the crackle of the fireplace. His father was reading through letters and messages that had accumulated for him while he had been away, and Nathan appeared to have dozed off. Andrew had found a book, and David was tending the fire within the fireplace with a poker.


    ¡°You don¡¯t all have to stay awake, you know,¡± Greg said softly.


    Nathan opened one eye. ¡°Not awake,¡± he yawned.


    ¡°Well, then go to bed.¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Nathan said, and closed his eyes again. "Too tired."


    ¡°Look, maybe I should get going,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°Tomorrow ¨C¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about tomorrow,¡± David interrupted him. ¡°Mum had the ice house cleared, and a new lock attached. It¡¯ll be fine. Not comfortable, but safe.¡±


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    ¡°Full moon is never comfortable,¡± Greg said. Because yes, the ice house should work. It was essentially a hole in the ground, covered with a domed roof of massive stone. If there was a sturdy lock at the door, even a werewolf shouldn¡¯t be able to get out.


    ¡°What did she tell everyone?¡± Greg asked. ¡°Did she say?¡±


    His father looked up from his reading. ¡°She told Mr. Paxton,¡± he explained. ¡°In case you show up here on your own for whatever reason. Mr. Paxton agreed that it would only worry the rest of the household unduly if they were informed. Imani says, he was surprisingly unfazed by the news.¡±


    Mr. Paxton was the steward of the house and had been in the family¡¯s service for as long as Greg could remember.


    ¡°So they didn¡¯t tell the other servants anything?¡±


    ¡°Well, Imani told them you had run away to join the railway, to explain your absence.¡±


    Greg nodded silently. Of course. His father and his older brothers were gone so much, nobody would even wonder about that. Only he, the baby of the family, was usually wherever his mother was.


    ¡°Look at that,¡± his father said, looking up from one of his letters. ¡°Duke Desmarais wants a meeting.¡±


    ¡°Does he say why?¡± David asked, brows furrowed.


    ¡°Letter just says he wants to uphold the ¡°neighbourly spirit,¡± whatever that¡¯s supposed to mean.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°Just what we needed. The Imperial Viceroy taking an interest in us.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to worry about this,¡± his father said slowly, scanning the letter again. ¡°It doesn¡¯t exactly sound urgent. Or official. Well, we¡¯ll see what this is really about.¡±


    ¡°I can take him your answer tomorrow,¡± Nathan offered, without opening his eyes. ¡°Maybe someone will give me a hint if I show up rather than a servant.¡±


    ¡°Very good,¡± Bram said.


    It was a huge relief when the moon finally set a few hours before dawn. Greg retreated to his old room and dropped onto his bed, without even taking off his clothes.


    David followed Greg over to the old icehouse the next evening. When Greg looked back towards the house, he thought he saw his mother standing in one of the windows, but it might have just been a trick of the light.


    ¡°Ready?¡± David asked when he noticed him staring.


    Greg shook himself out of it. ¡°Have to be, don¡¯t I?¡± he grumbled and climbed the steps down into the half dome of the ice house. There was not much ice left down there, but it was still freezing cold, especially once he started taking off his clothes. David took them from him and handed him a woollen blanket back, and finally locked the door behind him without another word.


    He didn¡¯t go away though; Greg could still hear and smell him right outside the sturdy wooden door. He was still there when Greg managed to turn back to his human shape the next morning. There was a fine layer of new snow on his shoulders when he opened the door at Greg¡¯s knocking.


    David didn¡¯t say anything while he handed Greg his clothes, or when they walked back to the main house. Nathan hadn¡¯t returned from his trip to the Desmarais estate, Castle Blanc, but Andrew was sitting at the breakfast table. Thoko and Yamikani were just joining him.


    Thoko grinned when she saw Greg. ¡°This is a lot easier than in the forest, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Greg dropped into a chair. ¡°It¡¯s nice,¡± he had to admit. ¡°Waking up and knowing that nobody died. Also, not having to find the camp again.¡±


    ¡°Are you actually going to look for werewolves around here, or was that just an excuse so the duke would let you go?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll start looking as soon as full moon is over,¡± David said in Greg¡¯s place.


    ¡°Would you take me along?¡±


    ¡°You want to come along looking for werewolves?¡± David asked. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I can at least tell them about the work at the railway, can¡¯t I?¡± Thoko said. ¡°I don¡¯t know ¨C I just want to do something to help.¡±


    ¡°Even after what Duke George Louis did to you?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t about him,¡± Thoko said, shrugging. ¡°This is about defeating the Rot, and driving out the Valoise.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you really want to,¡± David said slowly. ¡°It¡¯ll be tricky to explain why we take a woman out hunting, though, if anybody asks.¡±


    ¡°I thought you aren¡¯t hunting.¡±


    ¡°Officially, we¡¯re still hunters,¡± David pointed out. ¡°That¡¯s our best cover if we go around looking for werewolves.¡±


    ¡°But it might help, to have me along,¡± Thoko pressed. ¡°If you find a werewolf who¡¯s a woman?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying you won¡¯t be helpful,¡± David said. ¡°But it might be hard to avoid the attention of the Valoise if you do come along.¡±


    ¡°She can go with Greg,¡± Andrew piped in. ¡°Then we use both angles; we go out officially as hunters, and Greg and Thoko just sort of ravel the area, see what they can find.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll still need some kind of story if they start asking questions,¡± David pointed out. ¡°Preferably one that won¡¯t make the Church suspicious.¡±


    But before they could work out a cover, Nathan returned from his visit with His Highness, the Duke Clement Desmarais of Nedor Duchy, Imperial Viceroy of all of Loegrion, and as such representative of the Roi Solei himself.


    ¡°He¡¯s in quite a hurry to meet you, father,¡± Nathan reported on his return. ¡°Wants to talk about the White Torrent.¡±


    ¡°You actually spoke to him already?¡± Bram asked, surprised.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Nathan said. ¡°The reception I got, you¡¯d have thought I was a Marques, at least. Private audience with His Highness.¡±


    ¡°And what did you say?¡± his father asked.


    ¡°Well, I told him you knew about the problem with the White Torrent, of course,¡± Nathan said. ¡°And that you might know a solution.¡±


    His father rubbed his face. ¡°But I don¡¯t, Nathan. I don¡¯t know why the White Torrent is suddenly overtaken by the Rot, after all this time. Sun, we can¡¯t even say with absolute certainty that it is being taken by the Rot. And I certainly don¡¯t have a clue how to fix this.¡±


    Nathan raised his eyebrows. ¡°So you don¡¯t think having a couple of werewolves patrol the shores of the river might help?¡±


    ¡°Might, yes,¡± his father sighed. ¡°But there¡¯s no way to be certain.¡±


    Nathan shrugged. ¡°I also said that the Church wouldn¡¯t approve. He didn¡¯t seem very bothered by that.¡±

 Chapter 19

    Lane played absentmindedly with the lace-hemline of her dress, which fell over the back of her hands almost down to her fingers, as was the fashion this winter. Lady Theresa across the table was babbling about the arrangement of the flower piece between them, and Lane tried her best to look interested. Neither of them gave a damn about the stupid flowers, but as long as Theresa¡¯s family was sitting all around them, they had to pretend. Especially Theresa¡¯s mother, baroness Charlene deCauchy, was keeping an eagle eye on her oldest daughter, to ensure that Theresa didn¡¯t embarrass the family in the presence of a countess.


    Lane hated acting according to her rank, but if it wasn¡¯t for the title she had inherited from her mother, she would never be allowed to set foot inside the baroness¡¯s house, let alone ride out with her eldest. As a mother of five daughters, who all needed to find a suitable husband, Charlene was most careful not to let any scandal taint the name deCauchy. So whenever Lane came over, she played the countess with as much refinement as she could muster. At least until lunch was over.


    Finally, baron deCauchy pushed back his chair, officially ending the meal. Lane and Theresa put on coats, hats, and mittens over their dresses, and allowed footmen to help them onto their horses. And then they were off into the sun that was glaring at the snow-covered fields, as fast as they could.


    ¡°Frolicking like young foals,¡± the baroness always said, but in her eyes, a nice long ride around the barony with another woman of rank was a suitable pastime for a lady such as Theresa, so they were left alone.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a new horse,¡± Theresa asked, once they were out of sight from the house. ¡°What happened to that beautiful grey stallion you had?¡±


    Lane grimaced, and turned the little roan mare around, towards the forest. ¡°Rode him to death,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°How could you!¡± Theresa shrieked. ¡°Such a loyal soul! What happened?¡±


    ¡°I was on a trail, pushed him too hard. Up in the mountains towards Clyde¡¯s Pass,¡± Lane explained. ¡°We got caught in a snowstorm.¡±


    ¡°How did you get out?¡± Theresa asked.


    Lane smiled wryly. ¡°That, you¡¯ll have to see to believe,¡± she said.


    Theresa tried to get more out of her and didn¡¯t seem to notice where they were going. Only when the shadows of the first trees fell onto them, did she stop her horse.


    ¡°We can¡¯t go into the forest,¡± she said. ¡°The sun will be too low in half an hour.¡±


    ¡°Half an hour is all I need,¡± Lane assured her, and after a long moment of hesitation, Theresa rode in after her, but asked:


    ¡°What if the Rot is about? We brought no protection, or did you?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no Rot,¡± Lane said. ¡°It was here, but look over there.¡±


    She pointed at a fallen Rot-beast.


    Theresa clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream at the sight of the husk. ¡°Is it ¨C it¡¯s dead? How?¡±


    Lane reined in her horse and got out of the saddle. She walked over to the Rot-creature, torn apart by Morgulon, and gave it a good kick.


    ¡°Very much dead,¡± she said.


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    Theresa looked around. ¡°There are so many of them,¡± she noted after a moment and dropped to the ground next to Lane. She took off one mitten and very, very carefully touched the gnarled wood that had probably formed one of the legs.


    Which was a lot braver than Lane had expected her to be. Mr. Alby had run away after he had found one of the husks, all the way to the pub, and wouldn¡¯t talk about what he had seen for days.


    Theresa looked around. Under a thin coating of snow, there were at least a dozen broken Rot-creatures scattered around. Lane smiled at Morgulon¡¯s work.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± Theresa wanted to know.


    ¡°Do you trust me?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Right. Hold onto the reins,¡± Lane said, and then whistled sharply.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me these ¨C these things were destroyed by a man,¡± Theresa said, while they waited.


    ¡°No,¡± Lane said. ¡°This is Morgulon. She saved my life in the mountains.¡±


    The werewolf had come from downwind, so the horses didn¡¯t notice her before Lane did. Theresa jumped when her gelding bucked and tried to run. When she saw Morgulon, she almost let him go in shock.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± Lane said. ¡°She won¡¯t harm you.¡±


    This was addressed to both Morgulon and Theresa.


    ¡°Trust me, she¡¯s as nervous about you as you about her.¡±


    Theresa had already reined herself in and was doing a good job of calming down her horse, too. ¡°Are you talking to me, or that ¨C that werewolf?¡± she asked.


    Morgulon had stopped about thirty feet away from them and pranced as nervously as the horses.


    Lane smiled. ¡°Both,¡± she said.


    This was what she liked about Theresa. She looked fragile as a flower, and at court, she could play the damsel in distress with the best of them, but she had nerves of steel when it came down to it.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Morgulon,¡± Lane said. ¡°We talked about this, remember? Theresa is a friend.¡±


    ¡°Morgulon,¡± Theresa repeated. ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡±


    Morgulon was finally moving, giving Theresa a wide berth as she walked over to Lane. There, the werewolf bumped her head into her chest, almost knocking her over, and then began sniffing her pockets for food.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Lane smiled and pulled out some bread. Theresa watched on, as Lane fed the werewolf.


    ¡°Werewolves can destroy the Rot,¡± the young lady asked after a moment. ¡°Or just this one?¡±


    ¡°They all can,¡± Lane said. ¡°But she¡¯s better at it than the others.¡±


    ¡°But then ¨C why have you been hunting them? Why isn¡¯t there a werewolf in every forest of Loegrion? Just think of what a beautiful land this could be!¡±


    ¡°I had no idea what they can do,¡± Lane said. ¡°I only found out late last fall. The men who built the railway for Duke George Louis made this discovery. Now the duke wants us to find more werewolves for him.¡±


    ¡°Who is us?¡± Theresa asked. ¡°I need the whole story, Lane.¡±


    ¡°The Feleke family and I,¡± Lane said. And she told her friend about Greg Feleke, and what little she knew of his time with the railway, and everything that had happened since the duke had sent her out to catch a werewolf alive.


    Morgulon sank down on the ground, head resting on her paws, looking half asleep.


    ¡°What now?¡± Theresa asked when Lane finished.


    ¡°That¡¯ll depend on the duke,¡± Lane said. ¡°Or maybe I can find another sane werewolf. Then perhaps Morgulon can stay and protect the forests around here.¡±


    ¡°That would be nice,¡± Theresa said. ¡°But what about full moon? And what if the Church finds out?¡±


    ¡°Stay out of the forest on full moon,¡± Lane said. ¡°And if the Church finds out, I¡¯m screwed.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Theresa muttered. ¡°So they can¡¯t find out. Can you find a way to clear these ¨C these bodies?¡±


    Lane looked down at Morgulon, who wagged her tail idly.


    ¡°Are you still helping with the Salvation Effort?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°The soup kitchen? Sure.¡±


    ¡°If you come across anyone, with, let¡¯s say yellow eyes,¡± Lane said. ¡°Send them to the Lackland Railway Company in Eoforwic. Make sure to tell them to use the New Gate leading into the new city.¡±


    Theresa nodded. ¡°I was beginning to wonder why you risked telling me about all this,¡± she said. ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll keep an eye out. We don¡¯t get nearly as many takers as we used to, though, these days. Since the High Inquisitor is back, people are wary even about the salvation effort.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t surprising. The Salvation Effort might be the more gentle, charitable arm of the Church, but part of the Church nonetheless.


    ¡°If I have to leave in a hurry, can you make sure Morgulon gets some food?¡±, Lane asked. That was the reason why she had decided to tell Theresa what had happened.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t hunt for herself?¡±


    ¡°Oh, she does,¡± Lane said. ¡°But it takes a lot to keep a werewolf fed. And I¡¯d like to make sure she doesn¡¯t go hungry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± Theresa promised. ¡°You¡¯ll send a message if you need to leave?¡±


    Lane nodded.

 Chapter 20

    As soon as Lane returned to Wardshire, she was greeted by the very excited Ms. Davon, the housekeeper. ¡°We have a visitor, Milady¡± she announced. ¡°A gentleman visitor. And quite a handsome one, too,¡± she added in a conspiratorial tone of voice.


    Lane sighed inwardly. Not another one.


    Pretty much the last thing her father had done before Morgulon had killed him, was to marry Lane off to a high ranking official of the Church, no doubt in the hope of finally being allowed to go to the First Trial and become a true priest. Maxence had been almost thirty years older than Lane at the time of the wedding. He¡¯d also been about three times as heavy as her, with hands like hammers. The night in which they had consummated the wedding still crept up in her nightmares sometimes.


    Lane hadn¡¯t shed a single tear when his first act as lord of the manor had been to go out to cleanse the old battlefield at the border of the earldom off the Rot, never to return. She had put on a show, though, vowing to wear black for seven years out of respect to the great fighter of Mithras that had left them.


    But seven years had been too short, way too short. She should have vowed to grieve for three times seven years, Lane told herself, as Ms. Davon took her coat, and one of the girls did their best with Lane¡¯s hair. Then she would have been ugly and old by the time her mourning period ended, and even the prospect of a title and an earldom couldn¡¯t have drawn in the suitors.


    ¡°It¡¯s you!¡±


    When Ms. Davon finally allowed her to enter her own sitting room, it was only David Feleke waiting for her. Lane stopped in surprise when she saw him. She had to admit, he did look good. It had been ages since she had seen him anywhere but out in the wild, tired and sweaty in his heavy hunting leathers.


    Today he wore a quite fashionable double-breasted vest, narrow at the waist, with the shoulder pads that were seen all over Loegrion recently. His riding boots and breeches, too, were a lot nicer than what he wore out hunting. His curly hair was braided close to the scalp, and his face, clean-shaven and for once clear of blood and mud, was actually not unattractive, either. For a man, in any case.


    Lane exhaled deeply, letting go of the aloof poise she had taken in preparation of yet another clumsy attempt to woo her. ¡°Good evening,¡± she added, a little calmer.


    ¡°To you, too,¡± David said, and bowed deeply, as it was expected of a lord greeting a lady of Lane¡¯s standing. ¡°You¡¯re looking very good tonight.¡±


    Lane could feel herself blushing right away. Of course, he hadn¡¯t seen her wearing a dress in forever, either.


    Ms. Davon beamed, and retreated, no doubt to tell the kitchen that they would have a guest for dinner.


    ¡°Please, have a seat,¡± Lane said and dropped into a chair herself, quite un-ladylike. ¡°Is this a courtesy call?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± David said. ¡°The duke wrote to us, that he received word from you. He said, your last hunt was a successful one?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Lane said and grinned. ¡°You¡¯re not going to believe who I brought back from the mountains. But I can show you tomorrow. How did your hunting go? Is Greg still with the railway?¡±


    David hesitated before answering that question. ¡°Not right now,¡± he said slowly. ¡°There are three others now, so they have been able to split the crews and keep working over the winter, as much as the weather allowed it.¡±


    ¡°How old?¡± Lane asked. ¡°The new ones, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Porter is at least in his fifties,¡± David said, obviously confused by the question. ¡°Ruadh about forty, I¡¯d guess. Oli is just a kid. Eleven, if I remember right.¡±


    ¡°But how long since they were bitten?¡± Lane clarified.


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡± David wanted to know.


    ¡°Something I learned over the past few months,¡± Lane said. ¡°Any werewolf can kill those smallish Rot creatures that are everywhere, but the bigger ones are a fight, as Greg proved. Until they have seen about a hundred full moons. And after a thousand, even Rot queens are no struggle.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a Rot queen?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely certain,¡± Lane had to admit. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure they¡¯re bad, though. I came across an old battlefield, where the Rot had gathered all the bones of the dead soldiers, piled them into something like a huge anthill. That¡¯s the kind of place where you can expect to find a queen.¡±


    ¡°So how do you know this?¡±


    ¡°Cause the werewolf I found? I watched as she killed a creature like the one Greg struggled with. Took her two bites, even after three days with a silver bolt wedged into her shoulder. When I asked how that was possible, she explained about the age. Said there was an ¡®Old One¡¯, who had protected the spring of the White Torrent. Apparently, he died a couple of years ago.¡±


    ¡°Great. And how old is this ¡®she¡¯ of yours?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she knows,¡± Lane said. ¡°But nine full moons more than you would think.¡±


    There was a long pause. ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right?¡± David finally said.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Lane replied, and couldn¡¯t quite stop herself from grinning. ¡°But I¡¯ll show you tomorrow, I promise.¡±


    David frowned, but accepted that. ¡°Oli has been a werewolf the longest, for all that he is just a kid,¡± he said. ¡°His parents hid him for years. Porter has a couple of years on him, maybe three. Ruadh, you should actually know. He was a hunter, too, bitten a few months before Greg.¡±


    Lane nodded. She remembered the name dimly.


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    ¡°So, Oli should be strongest.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on it,¡± David said. ¡°He¡¯s only a little bigger than a great boarhound yet. Terribly cute, though.¡±


    ¡°And how did he survive?¡± Lane asked, ignoring the quip.


    ¡°His father is a knacker,¡± David explained. ¡°Kid got bitten when he brought food to him, out by the pits where the dead animals are dumped. Nobody but his father saw the attack, and his parents decided to hide him. I guess there were no direct neighbours or anyone else to notice that he wasn¡¯t around anymore, the parents apparently had him in the coal-cellar all the time. Only let him out at night.¡±


    ¡°Probably not something we¡¯ll see a lot of,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Unlikely,¡± David agreed. ¡°But it does show that Mr. Levi had merit. We didn¡¯t find Oli. His parents brought him to the Company.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s still risky, spreading the word like that,¡± Lane pointed out. ¡°Sooner or later the viceroy or the Church will find out.¡±


    ¡°Funny that you mention the viceroy,¡± David said. ¡°Duke Desmarais has called father to a meeting, to talk about the White Torrent. As soon as I¡¯m back, we¡¯ll leave for Castle Blanc. I¡¯m not sure you need to worry about the viceroy, though. If we can convince him that a werewolf on his lands will increase the harvests and thus his profits, father reckons he might be quite in favour.¡±


    Lane opened her mouth to protest but closed it again. Would a Valoisian official really allow a werewolf to survive?


    But Duke Desmarais was famously uninterested in Church matters and religion. Feed the body, not the soul, was his motto.


    ¡°You need to be extremely careful,¡± Lane said after a moment. ¡°But it might be worth talking to him, yes. Let me know what he says?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll hear from us, sure,¡± David promised.


    Ms. Devon was standing in the door to announce dinner. She beamed again when David offered his arm to Lane. At the table, they talked about the advancing railway lines and all the advantages they might bring. Only when they were alone again in the sitting room did the conversation return to the Rot, and how many werewolves Loegrion might need, how they might be regulated, made safe over full moon. Possibly even paid.


    Early the next morning, Lane and David were waiting for their horses to be saddled. It was still dark, and Ms. Devon was worried, so everything took longer than it needed too. Lane was just about to start yelling at the old woman when a boy finally led up the two mounts. So Lane just glared at the housekeeper, until she was out of sight.


    David, in the meantime, craned his neck, trying to pierce the darkness underneath the trees with his gaze.


    ¡°You won¡¯t see her,¡± Lane said. ¡°She¡¯s very shy.¡±


    She whistled several times as they rode on, the signal she had agreed on with Morgulon. The werewolf didn¡¯t show, though.


    ¡°Are you sure she didn¡¯t run off?¡± David asked. Probably in jest, they could both see the traces everywhere.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lane said, though her heart felt like it was beating in her ears with worry. ¡°Wait here.¡±


    To her surprise, David obeyed as she spurred her little roan mare on. Lane whistled again, as soon as she was out of sight. Within a few minutes, Morgulon stepped out of the shadows. Lane smiled in relief.


    ¡°I need you to come with me,¡± she said. ¡°To see this man, okay? So he can report to Duke George Louis that I didn¡¯t lie about you.¡±


    Morgulon swung her head left and right, pawing the ground nervously. After a moment, she stepped closer to Lane, gripping her crossbow gently with her teeth.


    ¡°He used to be a hunter, like me,¡± Lane said. ¡°His younger brother is the werewolf I told you about, Greg. I promise it¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Morgulon didn¡¯t seem convinced. Before Lane could think of anything else, though, David stepped forward.


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± he said, raising his empty hands. ¡°I¡¯m not here to harm you.¡±


    He had left his horse and crossbow behind, and Morgulon froze. She seemed just as surprised as Lane to see the Feleke unarmed. Or maybe she was surprised that she hadn¡¯t heard him walk up.


    Damn, David had to be good, to get the drop on Morgulon like that.


    ¡°May I have a closer look at your face?¡± David asked.


    When Morgulon didn¡¯t move, he came closer slowly, carefully, hands still raised. The werewolf stood stiff-legged like a young foal, like she couldn¡¯t quite decide whether to bolt or not. When David reached her, she pulled her head up and back, but still didn¡¯t run or attack. It looked quite comical, really.


    David hummed softly to himself as he stepped a little to the side, so the weak light of pre-dawn wouldn¡¯t be blocked by his body.


    ¡°Burn scars,¡± he finally said. ¡°So it really is you. Morgulon, yes?¡± Morgulon nodded. ¡°Or is there a different name you prefer?¡±


    He looked at Lane, who just shook her head. Inwardly, she cursed herself for never asking that question herself. She should have realized that Morgulon was just a stage name, something with a suitably sinister sound, not the name that loving parents gave to their first daughter.


    David hummed to himself again, reaching out for Morgulon. Slowly, gently, he placed a hand on her neck, stroked the uneven fur there. When he began massaging her ear, Morgulon actually leaned into the touch.


    ¡°So the legend lives,¡± he said finally, stepping backwards. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ¡°We need to think very carefully how much we tell George Louis about this,¡± he added. ¡°I¡¯ll let him know that your hunt was successful, of course. But Morgulon here should be by far the oldest werewolf, and if what you said last night is true, it might be much smarter to send her up the river.¡±


    He paused and turned to Morgulon. ¡°Do you have a preference?¡±


    Morgulon tilted her head quizzically.


    ¡°Lane told you about the duke and the railway?¡±


    Morgulon nodded.


    ¡°And you told her about a werewolf protecting the spring of the White Torrent? Who died?¡±


    Morgulon nodded again.


    ¡°So would you prefer to keep the river safe, or the workers?¡±


    Morgulon shrugged.


    ¡°I see,¡± David said. ¡°I¡¯ll call my horse now, okay?¡±


    He whistled and the brown gelding trotted up quickly. He didn¡¯t even seem very bothered by Morgulon.


    ¡°You said something about breakfast in the forest,¡± David said, grabbing the reins.


    Morgulon¡¯s ears snapped forward at that, and Lane grinned. ¡°Sure,¡± she said. ¡°Barbecue for breakfast.¡±


    So they swung by the main house, to pick up the game. A nice young buck, well hung. David prepared the cuts they wanted to roast, while Lane tended the fire. Morgulon was already feeding on one of the haunches.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know what Duke Desmarais says,¡± David promised before he rode off right after the meal.


    ¡°His lordship seems like an honourable man,¡± Ms. Devon mentioned, as she brought Lane a letter a few hours later. ¡°I¡¯m just saying,¡± she added quickly before Lane could tell her that it was none of her business. ¡°You can¡¯t play the grieving widow forever, Milady.¡±


    Ms. Devon was right, of course. A woman without a man was only half a person, as far as the Church was concerned. Lane was lucky that her closest male relatives lived hundreds of miles away and had no interest in taking the land and the title out of her hands. In fact, they had no interest in setting foot onto Loegrion at all.


    The old laws of Loegrion saw no issue in a woman ruling an earldom, Lane mused. So perhaps, if Duke George Louis was quick enough, she wouldn¡¯t have to remarry to keep what was hers.


    Maybe she should make that a condition of her help to the duke¡¯s cause?


    And in the meantime:


    ¡°There is a good chance that the Honourable Feleke will be around more often in the future,¡± Lane said. ¡°But it¡¯s a little early to talk about it.¡±


    Which wouldn¡¯t stop the housekeeper. Lane did not doubt that word would get out fast that she and David were courting. He wasn¡¯t exactly her rank, but the family was extremely respected and fairly wealthy. And she was a widow, used goods, as some would say...


    At least, this way she would have an excuse to turn down other suitors.


    A smile crept onto Lane¡¯s face. William deVale had promised to challenge any man to a duel who dared to court her. DeVale was a Count, but a chinless, spineless, gormless peacock. Handsome, some ladies said, but vain. Lane would love to see him challenge David Feleke, one of the best ¨C if not the best ¨C werewolf hunters of Loegrion to a duel.

 Chapter 21

    ¡°So. You and Lane deLande,¡± Greg greeted his oldest brother when David returned.


    David frowned at him, clearly confused.


    ¡°It¡¯s all the kitchen maids are talking about,¡° Greg explained.


    ¡°The heir of the family finally finding someone is apparently even more interesting than me bringing home two women,¡± Andrew added.


    ¡°She is pretty,¡± Nathan chimed in. ¡°Good catch, too.¡±


    David just grunted and handed his coat to the servant standing ready. Kicked off his riding boots. ¡°Let them talk,¡± he finally said. ¡°At least then nobody will wonder if I go to see her more often now.¡±


    ¡°Did deLande really find a werewolf?¡± Thoko piped in.


    David laughed wryly. ¡°You could say so,¡± he said. ¡°Crazy woman. Anybody want to guess which werewolf she found?¡±


    ¡°Much more important ¨C did she let it live?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s quite an interesting story,¡± David sighed. ¡°DeLande found the freaking Morgulon. The original one.¡±


    ¡°No way.¡±


    ¡°Impossible.¡±


    ¡°I thought she¡¯s just a legend?¡±


    ¡°How can you be sure?¡± Nathan asked over the others.


    ¡°Remember that crazy Leon deLande burned the circus down? Well, afterwards, he handed out these wanted posters he had drawn himself. Including the burn scars on the werewolf¡¯s face. Father kept one. I used to stare at it, as a kid. Well, and yesterday morning I looked at the real thing. Exactly the same scars.¡±


    ¡°And deLande brought her home. Alive.¡±


    Greg wasn¡¯t the only one who seemed to have issues believing this point.


    ¡°Tried to kill her first. Fired a shot at her, got a silver bolt wedged in her shoulder. Followed the werewolf across the mountains for three days, straight into a snowstorm. Lost her horse. DeLande said she was sure she was dead. Then the werewolf saved her life.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°Snuggled up close, kept her warm.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± Greg muttered.


    ¡°Why?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°Guess the werewolf is smarter than deLande,¡± Andrew said thoughtfully. ¡°Morgulon must have been dying, too, with a silver bolt stuck in her flesh for days.¡±


    ¡°Pretty much, yes,¡± David said. ¡°I saw the wound, it¡¯s still barely healed. DeLande cut out the bolt, and the Morgulon fought off the Rot drawn in by the dead horse. And this is where the whole story gets really interesting.¡±


    By now their parents had also gathered around to listen.


    ¡°DeLande claims that she watched Morgulon kill a Rot creature just like the one Greg fought at Eoforwic, easily, before she had even cut out the bolt.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± Greg said again, rubbing his arm. He still couldn¡¯t sleep on his right side.


    ¡°DeLande says, Morgulon claims it¡¯s a matter of how long ago a werewolf was bitten,¡± David continued. ¡°¡¯One hundred full moons¡¯ being apparently an important mark for fighting the Rot.¡±


    Greg frowned. He had just seasoned his eleventh full moon. One hundred were years away.


    But why should time matter? Or the number of full moons? A werewolf couldn¡¯t ¨C couldn¡¯t absorb moonlight, that made no sense. Moonlight was just reflected sunlight.


    And yet, on full moon, a werewolf turned into a monster.


    Greg shook his head in frustration. ¡°I hate magic,¡± he muttered. ¡°It never makes any scientific sense.¡±


    ¡°But if you ignore the science behind it, it makes perfect sense,¡± his father said slowly. ¡°It would certainly explain why the Church wants every werewolf killed as fast as possible, long before it becomes clear how they will turn out. And the Morgulon is ancient, if you count the full moons she survived.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the other thing,¡± David said. ¡°Lane said that Morgulon spoke of an ¡°old one¡±, a werewolf who had apparently seen over a thousand full moons, and lived at the spring area of the White Torrent.¡±


    ¡°Lived. Past tense,¡± his father noted.


    ¡°Died, yes, probably of old age. Morgulon is not exactly precise about dates and times, but at least a year ago, I reckon.¡±


    ¡°About the same time the Rot appeared on the river.¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± David said. ¡°Morgulon is very certain that the Torrent will look like the Savre soon.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s good,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Great, yes,¡± Nathan drawled. ¡°The heartlands are gonna be crawling with Rot, what a beautiful thought.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Greg said. ¡°I mean, yes, maybe. But look: All the powerful nobles got their seats in the heartlands, yes? They¡¯ll be really interested in keeping the river clean. And Duke George Louis¡¯s got the Morgulon. So that gives him leverage, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± Andrew said. ¡°If the duke does send the Morgulon to clean the river, everyone will profit. He can¡¯t blackmail just those who would support the Roi Solei.¡±


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°But Greg¡¯s not completely off the mark,¡± Nathan said. ¡°The duke can let the White Torrent go to Rot, and just tell everyone about the werewolves. The lords can then hire werewolves to keep their lands clean, which will pitch them directly against the Church, or they stay loyal and risk their peoples¡¯ crops failing.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s harsh,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Can you imagine how many people will die that way?¡±


    ¡°Duke George Louis won¡¯t care if it makes him king,¡± David stated.


    ¡°King of what?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°A land in ruins?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°Trust me. He won¡¯t care. He¡¯ll say it¡¯s all for a greater good.¡±


    ¡°Him becoming king? That¡¯s not much of a greater good.¡±


    ¡°Getting rid of the Church,¡± David said. ¡°Thousands will die now, but once the Empire is defeated? No more mass trials, no more Inquisition? No more tithe and other special taxes? No more farmers getting drafted for a pointless crusade somewhere in the south?¡±


    ¡°Only if he¡¯s a better ruler than the Roi Solei,¡± Thoko pointed out. ¡°Do you think he would be a better ruler?¡±


    David hesitated. ¡°Potentially.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a ringing endorsement,¡± Nathan griped.


    ¡°He is our best chance of getting rid of the Valoise,¡± Greg pointed out.


    ¡°Then the question is: will the duke listen to advice?¡± his father said. ¡°And whose words is he most likely to heed? He used to listen to you, David, did he not?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± David said, sounding tired. ¡°Otherwise Lester and Clarence would still be alive.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Nathan is entirely right,¡± Imani said when nobody else spoke for a few seconds. ¡°Duke George Louis can¡¯t let the White Torrent go to Rot. That would cripple the Valoisian nobles here, yes, but they can just demand aid from the Empire. The duke can¡¯t. If he loses the river, he shoots himself in the foot. But Nathan is right in so far that he ¨C we ¨C can use the werewolves as leverage. When is your meeting with Duke Desmarais, darling?¡±


    ¡°Next week,¡± Bram said.


    ¡°Who is going with you, anyway?¡± David asked.


    ¡°You all are,¡± his father said. ¡°Duke Desmarais sent another message, about a couple of werewolves who appeared after Nathan was back.¡±


    ¡°A most serendipitous coincidence,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s just that,¡± David said darkly. ¡°Might be a trap.¡±


    Greg agreed silently.


    He was nervous, as they left for Nedor Duchy, the land of the viceroy, Duke Clement Desmarais. It would be new moon when they reached it, and the thought made him feel vulnerable. And he missed Thoko. The only good thing about the timing was that they would stay a few days on the Desmarais estate since the viceroy wanted them to hunt down the werewolves on his lands. So they would have time to make a decision about how much they would tell Desmarais.


    Castle Blanc was just that, a proper castle, and like the name suggested, painted all white. Mr. Higgins would have called it a baroque monstrosity in the Imperial style, clonked down on the much smaller, much more elegant earlier building.


    Greg didn¡¯t mind the stucco and grandeur so much. Some of the figurines and ornamentations where even a direct flip-off to the Church. Mr. Higgins would probably say they were too ¡®on the nose¡¯, but Greg had to admit, viceroy Desmarais had vim to show his disdain so openly.


    The great anteroom, where they had to wait for Desmarais to receive them, had a huge mural on the ceiling, the five deadly sins being defeated by the early saints of Mithras. Only on the mural, the sins didn¡¯t look defeated at all. They looked much healthier, prettier, and more radiant than the ascetics that fought them.


    Only Cowardice was actually cowering before the saint about to slay her. Probably the only sin the viceroy thought he didn¡¯t indulge in himself.


    They were not the only guests: At least a dozen nobles with holdings along the White Torrent were waiting with them. Greg recognized about half of them and felt himself grow even more nervous. Andrew was already mingling. So was Nathan, who possessed none of Andrew¡¯s social grace, but didn¡¯t give a damn. David, like Greg, was more reserved, and they found themselves watching from the sidelines until Duke Desmarais made his entrance.


    The viceroy was a large man, tall and heavy-set. In his youth, he was said to have been a renowned fighter, but what muscles he might have once had, had mostly gone to fat now. He looked like somebody¡¯s kind grandfather. His eyes were bright and sharp, though, and underestimating him would be dangerous.


    Greg was glad that as a younger son, he was mostly ignored.


    ¡°If you will join me for dinner, friends,¡± Desmarais announced. ¡°I have called you here because we have unpleasant business to discuss, but let us do so with a full stomach.¡±


    ¡°Nothing useful is ever discussed after one of his dinners,¡± somebody complained close to Greg, and indeed, the table that was presented to them was covered in enough food to feed a small army. And certainly, enough wine to get every single person present roaring drunk.


    ¡°Makes you regret it¡¯s new moon, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Nathan muttered as they dug in. ¡°Otherwise you could show us just how much more it takes to get you drunk now.¡±


    Greg looked at him in alarm.


    ¡°What? Nobody gives a damn about us.¡±


    Their father was sitting quite close to Desmarais at the head of the table, closer than Greg would have expected, considering that Bram was just a Baron, and there were several Counts present. Nathan was right, though, he, Nathan, and Andrew had been placed at the very end of the huge table, and nobody even seemed to notice them.


    ¡°Waste of time,¡± Nathan muttered and refilled his wine glass.


    His father hardly said a word beyond idle small talk, Greg noticed. David, sitting right next to him, was pestered by the other nobles, who wanted to hear stories of gruesome murders and how the monster responsible had been hunted down and brought to justice.


    The viceroy was the last person still eating, but eventually, he too pushed his plate away.


    ¡°Now,¡± he said. ¡°Let us look at the matter at hand. You all must have noticed the increased activity of the Rot on your lands, and the ¨C the things ¨C that are carried on the river even into the cities. It is time, I think, that something is done about that, and as the people most affected, I would like to hear your thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Mithras will protect us,¡± somebody spoke into the silence after that announcement. It sounded like the speaker was rather drunk. ¡°He has protected the river for two-hundred years, there¡¯s no reason for him to stop now.¡±


    ¡°It is the sin of the common people that is the root of all evil,¡± another voice disagreed. ¡°Support the Church in the effort to lead the common man onto the right path. We have been too lenient. This is our just punishment.¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes, and he was fairly sure, so did the viceroy.


    The other nobles didn¡¯t seem to notice. They quickly divided into two camps, with about half of them denying that there was any problem at all, and the other half insisting that Mithras was angered, and sacrifices had to be made, preferably by somebody else. The discussion got quite heated, but as Nathan had predicted: As a whole, it was a waste of time.


    Bram and David never said anything.


    Finally, the viceroy interrupted them again. ¡°It appears to me,¡± he said quietly, ¡°that you are not aware of how precarious our situation is. I suggest you think real hard about what will happen if the White Torrent goes to Rot. There is no diverting it around Deva, or Deggan, or any of the cities it has so far served. If we cannot stop what is happening, where will your wives and daughters give birth in the future? How will you protect them?


    Do not tell me that there is no reason for concern: My very own son was once stolen from his crib, never to be seen again. Do not tell me that my faith was too weak, or our vigilance too lenient. I was once a fighter in Mithras¡¯s army, I believed, I prayed, with all my heart. No child was ever better protected, nor could bigger sacrifices be made than those I made at his birth. And yet it was in vain. Do not tell me that Mithras will protect us. On Loegrian soil, he will not. We can only protect ourselves, and to that end, I expect you to make a contribution beyond castigating the peasants.


    My family came to this country two hundred years ago, to fight for the Empire. And we are still at war, gentlemen. Today, I consider Loegrion to be my home, and I will fight this foul sickness, that is strangling my home country day by day. You can choose to stand with me in this fight. Or I would strongly advise you to leave these lands behind and never return.¡±


    When he glowered at the men, Greg noticed that most of them were suddenly very interested in their glasses or empty plates.


    ¡°We shall resume this discussion tomorrow,¡± the viceroy announced. ¡°I expect you all to think very hard tonight about what could be done.¡±

 Chapter 22

    ¡°Two silvers say it¡¯s going to be a waste of time again,¡± Nathan said as they went to see about breakfast the next morning.


    ¡°If you think I¡¯m touching silver for odds that shitty, you¡¯re clearly delusional,¡± Greg replied.


    Nathan grinned at him.


    ¡°At least the food is likely to be good again,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Yeah, if we really have to stay here till full moon, you won¡¯t fit into your pants anymore,¡± Nathan griped.


    Andrew punched him in the shoulder for that.


    Today, the discussion started right after breakfast. Nathan, Andrew, and Greg weren¡¯t included this time and spent the day roaming the viceroy¡¯s lands. They had no luck in finding the two werewolves, but they weren¡¯t trying all that hard, anyway. The viceroy didn¡¯t have any more luck, but he wasn¡¯t giving up, apparently.


    ¡°There¡¯s going to be one last meeting tomorrow,¡± David sighed.


    By the time Greg, Nathan and Andrew had returned the next day, a bunch of coaches was just leaving Castle Blanc.


    ¡°The viceroy wants to talk to us,¡± David greeted them. ¡°Get clean and then get dressed for dinner.¡±


    ¡°Already?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°He wants to meet us at what he calls the tea room,¡± Bram said. ¡°David is right, we should all look presentable.¡±


    Duke Desmarais didn¡¯t get up to greet them, when they entered the ¡°tea room¡± a little while later, and waved the servant off who wanted to announce Bram.


    ¡°Yes, yes, Lord Abraham Feleke does not need an introduction,¡± the duke sighed. ¡°He¡¯s quite recognizable, is he not?¡±


    They all thought it wiser not to answer to that. Bram was the only noble black man in the rank of Baron in all of Loegrion.


    ¡°And his four sons,¡± the duke continued. ¡°David, Andrew, Nathan, and Gregory. Please, sit down, have a bite to eat. You must be tired after all these pointless arguments. I certainly am.¡±


    He was already following his own advice, filling his plate with cold cuts. The food all around the room was plentiful and much more varied than just tea cakes.


    ¡°Your son hinted that you know why the White Torrent is collapsing, now of all times,¡± Desmarais went on. ¡°Yet you haven¡¯t said anything so far. Nothing at all.¡±


    Their father and David exchanged a long look. When Bram didn¡¯t answer right away, Desmarais clapped his hands, and the servants, who had been serving drinks, left at once.


    ¡°Well?¡± the duke demanded. ¡°Out with it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that simple, Your Highness,¡± Bram said. ¡°Are you speaking to us as the viceroy of Loegrion, or a landowner who doesn¡¯t want his people¡¯s crops to be ruined by the Rot?¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± the duke said softly. ¡°So this is not just about Church law?¡±


    Bram kept his mouth shut.


    ¡°In that case,¡± the duke said, ¡°I would like to speak to you as a man of common sense speaking to another. My family has lived here nearly as long as yours. I would hate to see this land rot away even further. So I ask you again to tell me why the White Torrent is falling to the Rot after such a long time, and what can be done about it? I don¡¯t care how you know. I only ask to be included in this knowledge.¡±


    Bram smiled wryly. ¡°We know what is happening to the river because our family has been hunting werewolves for generations,¡± he said. ¡°Recently, this work led us to a quite interesting discovery: The White Torrent remained free of the Rot because its well was protected. It is collapsing now because its last guardian has succumbed to old age over a year ago.¡±


    ¡°Protected by what? There is no magic or alchemy powerful enough to protect a whole river. Otherwise, the Empire would have cleansed the land long ago and pushed further north.¡±


    ¡°Quite the contrary,¡± Andrew disagreed. ¡°The Empire and especially the Church of Mithras have been working since the emergence of the Rot on destroying the one thing that can effectively fight it.¡±


    ¡°And that is? Out with it!¡±


    ¡°A sane werewolf,¡± said Bram.


    Silence fell between them. The duke¡¯s jaws were working, but he was clearly lost for words.


    ¡°You must be joking,¡± was all he finally managed.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Bram said.


    ¡°One werewolf. That¡¯s all it took to keep the river clean? One werewolf like the two that have been killing my people¡¯s sheep?¡±


    ¡°No, probably not like those,¡± Bram replied. ¡°One exceptionally old and powerful werewolf.¡±


    ¡°I hope you are going to tell me that there are others as powerful,¡± Desmarais said.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± Duke Desmarais echoed. ¡°None at all?¡±


    ¡°Werewolves grow more ¨C resistant ¨C against the Rot as they age,¡± Andrew explained. ¡°Since the law is to kill any werewolf, not just the mad ones, there hasn¡¯t been a sufficiently old one for years. Except for possibly one.¡±


    ¡°But?¡± the duke asked. ¡°What¡¯s the issue with this one?¡±


    ¡°Duke George Louis already has a claim on it,¡± Bram explained.


    ¡°So that¡¯s how he had his railway through the forest to Sheaf built?¡± Duke Desmarais wiped his broad forehead with a silk handkerchief. He looked thoughtful. ¡°And you are sure that there is only one werewolf capable of keeping the Torrent clear?¡±


    ¡°Only one that we know of,¡± Bram said.


    ¡°I take it you have been looking?¡±


    Bram just took a sip from his wine glass. So far, he had not admitted to actually doing anything himself that would break the law.


    ¡°If I were to order you,¡± Desmarais tried another angle, ¡°would you obey?¡±


    ¡°If the viceroy, voice of the Roi Solei on Loegrian soil, were to order us, how could we resist?¡± Bram replied.


    ¡°Fine then.¡± Duke Desmarais pushed himself out of his chair. ¡°I hereby order you, Lord Abraham Feleke, and your sons, to do everything within your power to find a werewolf capable of keeping the White Torrent clear of the Rot.¡±


    He fell back into his chair. ¡°And now that treason has been committed, will you finally speak openly?¡±


    ¡°There is little more to say,¡± Bram answered. ¡°Yes, we will look for werewolves. I would suggest starting with those already on your lands. But we have to warn you: There is no simple test to see if a werewolf is sane and stable, or not. Newly bitten ones have been known to turn mad as late as four months after the bite. And we don¡¯t know why they go mad, either.¡±


    ¡°Or how the rate of sane to rabid werewolves stands,¡± Greg added.


    ¡°But you are certain that a werewolf can, what, resist the Rot? Repel it?¡±


    ¡°Fight it,¡± Bram said. ¡°Literally. A werewolf can fight the moving shapes the Rot takes, and destroy them. Kill them, for lack of a better word. We have all witnessed those fights.¡±


    ¡°Are they even?¡± the duke wanted to know.


    ¡°Depends,¡± David said. ¡°A sufficiently seasoned werewolf can destroy even the largest manifestations of the Rot without much of a struggle. A younger one risks its life if it goes up against too many or too large a Rot creature.¡±


    ¡°And how old is ¡®sufficiently seasoned¡¯?¡±


    ¡°To defend a camp of railway navvies? About eight years should do. To keep a whole river clean? We¡¯ll have to see.¡±


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°What significance does the number eight have here?¡±


    ¡°About a hundred full moons,¡± David explained. ¡°The ancient one who defended the river had lived through over a thousand full moon transformations.¡±


    ¡°And this werewolf that Duke George Louis has?¡±


    ¡°At least four hundred but we don¡¯t know the exact number,¡± David said. ¡°You might remember the circus act known as the Morgulon? Over thirty years ago.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I do,¡± the duke said.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be in the chronicles,¡± Bram continued. ¡°The circus toured with a very young werewolf-girl they called the Morgulon. Due to the unrest this caused, they were banned from Loegrion for five years. It was one of your father¡¯s last acts as viceroy, I believe. Right after their return, Lord Leon deLande set fire to the circus to kill the werewolf.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that circus. Yes, I remember,¡± Desmarais said. ¡°I¡¯ll look up the details. And I suppose I should contact Duke George Louis. Perhaps we can come to an agreement regarding this Morgulon.¡±


    He wiped his forehead again. ¡°Perhaps if you can catch these two sheepkillers alive, he will agree to a trade.¡±


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± Greg started and then bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something untoward.


    ¡°Yes. Speak your mind, young man.¡±


    ¡°What my brother wanted to point out is the difference between hunting a werewolf and bringing one in alive, your Highness,¡± Andrew said. ¡°All we can do, what Duke George Louis has done, is to offer them work.¡±


    ¡°Work. You mean to tell me that he pays them?¡± Desmarais asked.


    ¡°Strictly speaking, Duke George Louis pays the butty gangs, and the gangs hire and pay the werewolves,¡± Greg said. ¡°But yes, they do get paid.¡±


    ¡°Paid in food? Clothes? Do they actually hand them silver?¡± Duke Desmarais asked, looking flabbergasted.


    ¡°Some take silver,¡± Greg said. Porter did, in any case. ¡°Others won¡¯t touch coins. They just expect food and a safe place to stay over full moon. But the point is, you cannot force them to fight the Rot, because you cannot chain them up to do so, nor send guards with them into the forest. So you need to create some other incentive.¡±


    ¡°And not having them killed won¡¯t be enough?¡± the duke asked archly.


    ¡°You mean to send them away, Your Highness,¡± Bram pointed out. ¡°Far away into areas where no man can follow them. Depending on how scared they are of hunters, they might still do what you demand, but you should be aware that your threats are empty. And as soon as your werewolves realize that, they will be gone. And I doubt they will come back, no matter your offer. Also, any time they have to spend hunting or scavenging for food will be time during which they won¡¯t fight the Rot.¡±


    ¡°You all have worked on these issues before. Or do you deny that?¡±


    ¡°We did help Duke George Louis to find werewolves for his crews,¡± Bram said. ¡°And he, too, has ordered us to find more.¡±


    ¡°And whose order do you intend to follow?¡±


    ¡°Both, of course,¡± Bram said. ¡°As my son already pointed out, we cannot force a werewolf to work for either of you. So it will be up to you and Duke George Louis to hire them. Obviously, we won¡¯t drag those two sheepkillers all the way to Eoforwic.¡±


    ¡°Very kind of you. And what does Duke George Louis pay you for your services?¡±


    ¡°The basic rate for a living werewolf is double that of a dead one,¡± David replied.


    ¡°And if I were to pay you more?¡±


    ¡°All we could do is give you ¨C preferred access,¡± Bram said. ¡°And even that would be hindered by geography. Since the Church cannot find out about this, it is generally rather difficult to travel a longer distance with a werewolf in tow.¡±


    Duke Desmarais rested his face heavily on one hand and turned to his plate of cold cuts.


    ¡°So what you are telling me,¡± he said after a while, ¡°is that suddenly, after hundreds of years, after generations of killing them, you have now created a demand and thus competition for living werewolves. You speak of sane ones and mad ones. But in the end, these creatures are at best unstable. Howling mad at worst.¡±


    ¡°Well, first of all, we did not create this ¨C demand,¡± Bram said calmly but firmly. ¡°We did not put the Rot into the ground, and it wasn¡¯t our idea to build a railway through these lands. And we most certainly did not want the protector of the White Torrent to die. Before you ask ¨C he was dead ere we even learned of his existence. But things are what they are. My personal interest is simply to keep Courtenay barony safe.


    ¡°Secondly, and this will be harder to believe, I¡¯m sure, there are werewolves which are far from unstable. You do not hear about them, Your Highness, because they commit no crimes, except for vagrancy. And in that they are swallowed by the many itinerant people to whom poverty leaves no choice but to travel up and down the country, to sell what services they can offer. Some of them look entirely human, and behave entirely human, except for full moon. Once the full moon is in the sky, and darkness has fallen, they are as dangerous as any werewolf and often killed alongside the mad and mean-spirited of their kind. But they possess none of the malice, irascibility, or unpredictability of a truly mad werewolf. In fact, they will go to great lengths to ensure that even on full moon they will not endanger humans.


    The Church does not acknowledge their existence. On the contrary, the Church has made a lot of effort and paid a lot of money to have them eradicated both from folk¡¯s memories and our forests. Even to speak of them is blasphemy, for how could a creature cursed by Mithras be sane?¡±


    Duke Desmarais sneered at that. ¡°Always bending the facts to suit their teachings,¡± he grumbled and stared into his cup of wine.


    Greg helped himself to some more food to stop himself from fidgeting.


    ¡°But do you have proof?¡± the duke finally wanted to know.


    Bram looked at David, who shrugged.


    ¡°What?¡± the duke growled when Bram remained silent. ¡°If you do have proof, then I demand to see it.¡±


    ¡°There is only the proof of your own eyes,¡± Bram said after a long moment. ¡°One of my sons was bitten a year ago. Can you tell which one? You have seen them all over the last few days, talked to each of them a little, yet would you have guessed?¡±


    ¡°This ¨C this is not a funny joke,¡± the duke gasped. He had turned pale like goat cheese.


    ¡°It is not a joke at all,¡± Bram replied.


    Duke Desmarais nervously wiped his forehead again, looking back and forth between the four of them. After a minute of tense silence, though, he got a grip on himself.


    ¡°You are having me on,¡± he declared like he could dictate the truth.


    ¡°Would you like proof?¡± Bram asked mildly.


    The duke looked again from David to Greg to Andrew and Nathan. ¡°Yes.¡± His voice was rough. ¡°I¡¯m calling your bluff.¡±


    Bram nodded and looked at Greg. Greg stared back, almost as shocked as Desmarais, but when his father arched his eyebrows, he dutifully began to take off his shoes.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± the duke hissed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to ruin them,¡± Greg explained. ¡°They finally fit properly.¡±


    He shrugged out of his vest and shirt, too. When he started on his pants, the duke looked away from him at Bram and groused: ¡°Are you running a circus now?¡±


    Greg smiled, found the tightrope in his mind, and jumped down on the other side. It would have probably looked a lot more dramatic if he had stripped down completely, and he had also misjudged how much he still staggered around while turning, so he almost fell over his chair and ended up with one foot still covered by his sock.


    ¡°No points for style,¡± Nathan promptly commented but got up to stop one of the little food-covered tables from falling over.


    Greg threw one look at the duke, who was either about to faint or yell for his guards and decided the more comical he looked, the less threatening he would appear. So he sat down like a well-behaved dog and tried to take the remains of his sock off with his teeth.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°Why do you always ruin your stockings?¡±


    But they all kept a watchful eye on the duke, who was dabbing at his forehead with his silk handkerchief again. Sweat was running down his jowls in little rivulets. His colour was changing from very pale to beet red now.


    His eyes were glittering.


    He still hadn¡¯t called the guards.


    ¡°Quite a troupe you have here,¡± he finally managed, looking at Bram. ¡°Quite a show. I take it he is amongst those Duke George Louis pays?¡±


    ¡°He was the first,¡± Bram said. ¡°Now he helps us find others. He understands us just fine, by the way.¡±


    ¡°You understand me?¡± the duke asked, turning to Greg.


    Greg rolled his eyes, but nodded, then looked questioningly at his father. He would really prefer it if the secret didn¡¯t pass even further. Bram nodded, and Andrew got up.


    ¡°Where is he going?¡± Desmarais wanted to know.


    ¡°Bringing more clothes for Greg,¡± Bram explained.


    ¡°You do have this well-rehearsed,¡± the duke said softly. ¡°And yes, quite convincing as far as proofs go. I would never have guessed.¡±


    He still, maybe even unconsciously, moved as far away from Greg as his chair would allow.


    ¡°Could he protect the White Torrent?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Bram said. ¡°Not for years.¡±


    ¡°But he has protected the railway workers. Did you not say that a werewolf should be at least eight years old for that job and that your son was only bitten a year ago?¡±


    ¡°Greg was bitten a year ago, yes,¡± Bram said. ¡°And on the short line to Sheaf, he was able to protect the work crew. The new line to Mannin though will have to cross the Savre, and thus much more dangerous areas. The crews will need to be larger, too. At least the proposed bridgework, right at the riverbank, will require somebody older.¡±


    ¡°Always the rivers and waters,¡± Duke Desmarais mused. ¡°They could make these lands the richest part of the Empire. Instead, we are constantly crippled by the Rot that hides in their cool floods. Duke George Louis wants to be king, yes? I can see the shape of this vision now ¨C each stream, each creek, lake, and pond with its own werewolf on guard, the swamps along the Savre drained, the river¡¯s powers harnessed. And ¨C king ¨C George Louis ruling over the prospering, green lands, expanding into the western mountains and further North, everywhere the Empire could not reach for fear of the Rot. Or am I wrong?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know what Duke George Louis plans,¡± Bram said. ¡°But I can imagine worse futures than the one you just described, Your Highness. Most of them start with you informing the Inquisition about what you just learned.¡±


    ¡°I could arrest you all on the spot.¡±


    ¡°You could try,¡± Bram said, almost serenely.


    There was a long, long moment of silence. The duke looked at Greg, but then seemed to realize that it was both Nathan and David, who had both gripped the hilts of their dress swords, which weren¡¯t actually dress swords but real rapiers. They returned his gaze calmly.


    Finally, the duke huffed, not quite a laugh, and looked away. ¡°I do not doubt that I would never finish calling for help,¡± he said. ¡°And strangely, it¡¯s not the werewolf I feel the most threatened by. But let us not do anything that we would all regret later.¡±


    Bram smiled and Nathan leaned back a little in his chair. David, too, relaxed but moved his hand barely an inch further away from the hilt of his sword.


    ¡°What do you intend to do with your new knowledge?¡± Bram asked.


    ¡°As I said repeatedly in the recent days,¡± the duke replied, ¡°my family has lived here for over two centuries. My ancestors conquered these lands for the Empire, and we are still fighting, fighting the Rot every day. As a reward, the Empire seemed to have forgotten about us. And now you tell me, that perhaps it is the Roi Solei himself, but certainly, the Church and High Inquisitor d¡¯Evier, who are crippling us in our defence against this foul sickness that is strangling Loegrion day by day. The Rot is my enemy since it killed my son. Anyone who chooses to stand in my way in this fight should consider himself my enemy, too. If you will side with me against the Rot, then we can be allies.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we should start by finding your sheepkillers, then,¡± David suggested. ¡°See how their state of mind is. Even if they are only newly turned, together they should be able to at least protect the castle from attacks.¡±


    The duke looked at Greg. ¡°And if they turn out to be ¨C unstable? My daughter will give birth soon. We took all the precautions with my son, and yet he was ¨C was stolen.¡±


    ¡°I suppose we can stay a while longer,¡± Bram said. ¡°If you can think of a safe place for Greg to wait out full moon.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it,¡± the duke promised, just as Andrew opened the door.

 Chapter 23

    Greg turned human again, and soon they were on the hunt.


    ¡°¡¯Sheepkillers¡¯ sounds promising, right?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope they haven¡¯t already moved on,¡± Bram said.


    Several hours later, they had split up to cover more ground. Greg hadn¡¯t even questioned it when his father had told him to go with David into the forest, while Nathan and Andrew and Bram each went on alone into the villages. It wasn¡¯t until David actually found a track, that Greg began to wonder about this arrangement.


    ¡°What if the others find them first?¡± he asked David. ¡°Won¡¯t that be dangerous for everyone? Shouldn¡¯t we have stuck together?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll be fine,¡± David said absentmindedly. ¡°They can handle themselves, and besides, they¡¯re supposed to go door to door, remember? Not track.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Greg said. ¡°But why do I need a babysitter?¡±


    ¡°Because you are the babysitter, idiot,¡± David replied. ¡°This way.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Greg said and nudged Dolly gently forward.


    Andrew had reluctantly agreed to lend him his horse once again.


    Together, they followed David, who moved on as certainly as if the track was lined with torches. Greg could have followed the wolf¡¯s nose, but they had agreed that it would be better if he could talk to the two sheepkillers first.


    But after several hours, they reached a river, and David cursed. ¡°They went in there,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s go a little up and down the shore, but I¡¯m afraid they crossed over.¡±


    Greg looked doubtfully at the waters. He couldn¡¯t see much of them, for the moon had already set, and the starlight was clouded, but he could hear an ominous sound that suggested quite a torrent.


    ¡°They must be really good swimmers,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°It¡¯s water,¡± David replied. ¡°Not fire or silver. Is it even possible for a werewolf to drown?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Greg admitted. ¡°I¡¯d rather not try, though.¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± David sighed. ¡°The horses will never make it. As I said, let¡¯s make sure they didn¡¯t just double-back, and then meet with the others.¡±


    Greg was tired and a little cranky about the failure when they rode back towards Castle Blanc. David on the other hand wasn¡¯t perturbed.


    ¡°Lots of hunts go like this,¡± he pointed out. ¡°On the bright side: I¡¯m fairly sure they are sane. Quite smart, too. They knew exactly how long they could stay in the area before someone was on their trail, and then they left in a way that makes it really hard to follow.¡±


    ¡°And what do we tell the duke?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°What I just told you.¡±


    ¡°But it could take ages to catch up with them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the nature of the beast,¡± David said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll send a message to deLande, we¡¯ll go after them together, take Nathan. You stay here, guard the castle, and Dad and Andrew take care of politics.¡±


    ¡°You and deLande? They¡¯ll never go with you. Take Andrew, at least he¡¯s good at calming people down.¡±


    ¡°Hush,¡± David said, reigning in his gelding.


    Greg wanted to argue his point, when he heard it, too: A howl.


    ¡°Think that¡¯s them?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°No,¡± David said, reaching for his crossbow. ¡°Unless they suddenly lost their minds. It¡¯s only three days past new moon, and we¡¯ve nearly reached the next village. So far, our pair of sheepkillers have tried hard to stay inconspicuous.¡±


    They moved towards the howl anyway. Greg was half hoping it might be a perfectly normal wolf, but those were about as rare in these lands as sane werewolves.


    ¡°Sun¡¯s bloody ashes,¡± David swore when they exited the forest.


    They were too late again. Even from a distance, it was clear to see in the first light of morning, that there had been an attack. One of the doors on the meagre huts closest to the forest had been smashed in, and they could hear somebody screaming.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Begging, by the time they jumped out of the saddle. Villagers with pitchforks and knives had already gathered around the broken door, and a woman was wailing, begging for mercy for her children.


    ¡°Make way,¡± David ordered harshly.


    The people did, all except for the youth who had held the door against the villagers.


    ¡°Come to kill us, yes?¡± he shrieked. ¡°Kill the monster, not my little brothers!¡±


    David sighed and simply muscled him aside, pushing his way into the sparse bedroom, where the crying woman cowered between the children.


    Two dying children.


    ¡°Your belt,¡± David ordered Greg, already ripping the sheet off the one empty bed. ¡°We need to staunch the bleeding. Move!¡± he barked at the mother. He only paused for a second to pull his gloves up, before bending down over the kids.


    ¡°Let me do it,¡± Greg said, taking off his belt, then his own gloves. ¡°Make sure the mad one doesn¡¯t come back or strike elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± David said. And off he was.


    Greg took a deep breath, swallowed bile. The monster inside him was reacting to the smell of fresh blood in a completely different way, but he fought it back down.


    Stem the bleeding, first.


    ¡°You,¡± he said, turning to the youth. ¡°We need more sheets. Go.¡±


    One of the kids had been bitten into the thigh, with enough force to break the bone. Greg could see the white through the torn flesh. He nearly gagged but started to wrap the sheet as tightly around the wound as possible, then his belt, too.


    It would be a miracle if either of these kids survived, he thought, but he did what he could, aided by the mother and oldest son. Neither of them said a word until all the wounds were bandaged, and neither of them knew what else to do.


    ¡°You¡¯re a hunter,¡± the kid finally said. ¡°You kill werewolves. They will be werewolves.¡±


    ¡°Times are changing,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Have they found a cure?¡± the mother asked, looking up.


    ¡°No,¡± Greg said. ¡°But the duke has need for a werewolf on his lands. To fight the Rot.¡±


    ¡°Fight the Rot?¡± somebody in the door asked, and Greg jumped. He had forgotten about the villagers. But of course, they were still watching.


    ¡°Fight the Rot?¡± people murmured.


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± the first man said. ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Not for a werewolf,¡± Greg said loudly. ¡°A werewolf can fight the Rot. But you need the right kind of werewolf The one that attacked here was the wrong kind.¡±


    He stepped closer to the door. The people backed off. ¡°Who¡¯s got the fastest horse in the village?¡±


    There was a murmur and much staring at boots, but eventually, a name was volunteered:


    ¡°Aggy.¡±


    ¡°And is Aggy around?¡± Greg asked. ¡°The duke needs to know what happened here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Aggy,¡± said a rather frail-looking elderly man, just as a young woman pushed forward.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go inform the duke,¡± she announced.


    Aggy seemed fine with lending her the fastest horse in the village, and Greg relaxed a little. Help would be on the way soon.


    Nathan arrived first. He took one look at the bleeding kids and decided to go after David. Andrew and Bram showed up with the duke himself a couple of hours later, together with a band of soldiers and a very unhappy veterinary. The guards were equally unhappy, so it was Greg again and Andrew, who escorted the man into the hut, to watch how he treated the injured children.


    ¡°Should have run like the doctor,¡± the man grumbled.


    ¡°The doctor will be hunted down and hanged,¡± Andrew pointed out in a perfectly conversationally tone.


    This gave the veterinary pause, and he started his examination over, though he was still clearly reluctant to touch his patients.


    ¡°The blood can¡¯t harm you,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Only the teeth are cursed. We all touch it every time we cut a werewolf¡¯s throat. Don¡¯t let their blood mix with yours, and you¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    With that reassurance, the veterinary went to set the bone as much as possible, stitched some tissues together, and put new bandages on the wounds, to staunch the bleeding.


    ¡°It¡¯s not clotting,¡± he stated. ¡°The big blood vessels are both intact, but the way it¡¯s bleeding, I can¡¯t make any promises.¡±


    The younger boy was a little better off. He was awake, too, and could report that the werewolf had gone straight for his hand.


    ¡°Could have killed them both easily,¡± the veterinary wondered. ¡°Why just bite them each once?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± Greg yawned. ¡°But it¡¯s actually not that unusual.¡±


    ¡°Some of them seem to have this urge to pass on the curse,¡± Andrew added. ¡°They start about three days after new moon, attacking either early at night or right at sunrise, and they keep going until they¡¯re permanently stopped. Why they do that, we have no idea. It¡¯s a really fast way to get killed.¡±


    Nathan and David did return not much later with the dead werewolf. Usually, this would have received a loud cheer, possibly even an impromptu holiday. But today, the villagers all just cared about ¡°the right kind of werewolf¡± to fight the Rot.


    It was mostly Andrew who answered their questions. Andrew was not just better at making friends than Greg, he had also caught a few hours of sleep. It would have been far less of an issue, Greg thought, if they weren¡¯t on the wrong side of half-moon. Or maybe not.


    He still would have been a lot less patient with the scared and confused villagers.


    Finally, the duke decided to have the two injured children taken to Castle Blanc, and Greg volunteered to ride on the cart with them. He promptly fell asleep, but since the two boys hardly even stirred, nobody noticed. At the castle, David and he managed to take a bath and catch some more rest, before they met the duke at the dining table. Dinner was as excessive as all the meals at the castle had been so far. After the sleepless night and the trying day, Greg was for once hungry enough to appreciate all the food that was put in front of him. He only listened to his father and the duke discussing the future.


    Nathan was to race to Eoforwic, to inform Duke George Louis of all that had happened, while viceroy Desmarais would send a missive to Lane deLande, to order her after the escaped sheepkillers. David would go with her. The rest of them would stay at Castle Blanc. How long, was a matter of debate. Desmarais tried to order Bram to stay ¡°until the two boys could be made safe,¡± while Bram only wanted to wait the one month until the duke¡¯s daughter had had her child.


    Desmarais grew very quiet when Bram asked: ¡°Are you ordering me as viceroy of the Roi Solei, or as a duke of Loegrion? Because a duke does not have that power over a baron.¡±


    Eventually, Andrew offered to stay, if necessary until summer.

 Chapter 24

    It almost felt like summer, Greg thought, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he followed Andrew through the forest to the little hut to which Marc and Henry had been exiled. Their mother and older brother had gone with them, but everybody else kept their distance. The change in them had been too drastic.


    It had been David, to Greg¡¯s slight surprise, who had argued that the boy¡¯s altered behaviour, mainly their preference for their wolf-shape, was not necessarily a sign that they were dangerous. ¡°The Morgulon is the same,¡± he had pointed out.


    And so far, there had been no violence from either of them.


    Today was Greg¡¯s last visit to the hut. The spring equinox lay behind them, and he had promised Eyal to return to the crew as soon as winter was over. In fact, it was getting late, but he hadn¡¯t been able to make himself move before the Spring Festival. Not that they had observed any of the Mithran rituals ¨C but Duke Desmarais had thrown a huge party, and it was likely the last such event Greg would ever be able to attend. Sooner or later word about him would spread.


    Now, Nathan and Thoko would go with him. Andrew, as promised, would stay at Castle Blanc, while Bram, now that the duke¡¯s daughter had had her child, would return to Heron Hall.


    After nearly a month, David and Lane deLande had brought the two sheepkillers in ¨C their real names were Lee and Marianne. Lee used to be a hunter who had been bitten four years ago, Marianne had been a werewolf for two. Now Lee, who could pass as human, travelled with David and deLande to help them find others like him, while Marianne had agreed to stay around Castle Blanc to babysit Marc and Henry, and fight the Rot. All she asked in return was a safe and warm place to sleep and ¡°proper food.¡±


    Marianne smiled tiredly when Greg and Andrew arrived. Greg felt with her. Full moon was just over ¨C the second one for Marc and Henry. Her smile widened, though, when she saw the supplies Andrew and Greg had brought.


    ¡°You have no idea how tired I was of raw meat,¡± she said, grabbing an apple from the cart.


    ¡°I bet,¡± Greg said. ¡°How are the boys?¡±


    ¡°Same as three days ago, as far as I can tell,¡± Marianne said and ran a hand through her black and brown hair. ¡°But step into the castle, have a look for yourself.¡±


    Lea, the boy''s mother, eyed them worriedly when Greg and Andrew did just that. The ¡°castle¡± had only two rooms and the basement. Lea and the boys, or rather puppies, were in the fairly generous kitchen. When Greg and Andrew entered, Marc and Henry jumped up to greet them, tails wagging. There was no malice in them as they came to sniff out the food. Not much humanity, either.


    ¡°They¡¯re good boys,¡± Lea said, by way of greeting.


    ¡°Looks that way,¡± Andrew answered, when Marc took his bag into his mouth and dragged it over to the bench. ¡°Thank you, Marc.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll tell the duke? You¡¯ll tell him that they are no danger? They can help Marianne keep the forest safe.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell him that all is looking well here,¡± Andrew said. ¡°But we need to wait a little longer, Lea. It¡¯ll be better for them, too. In fact, I¡¯m thinking we should maybe wait longer than four months before we tell the duke that they are safe for sure. The older they are, the less the Rot will be able to harm them. Let them be kids a little longer before they have to become guards. Soldiers.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Your Lordship,¡± Lea said. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Greg looked away. It had been Bram¡¯s suggestion to wait longer. Four months, that was the latest a werewolf had turned bad, as far as they had been able to verify. But there was so much they didn¡¯t know, and Marc and Henry were the first two they took responsibility for in this way. They needed to be absolutely certain.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be ready to start work for lambing season next year, at the very latest,¡± Andrew said. ¡°The Rot won¡¯t scare them, then.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t scare them now,¡± Lea said proudly. ¡°They tear it to pieces when it comes too close to the house.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear.¡±


    Andrew sat down with Lea, keeping up the conversation while keeping an eye on the two young werewolves and his crossbow at hand.


    Marc¡¯s leg hadn¡¯t healed right and never would. The flesh wound had finally closed shortly after his first full moon transformation, though it had bled for a long time. But the bone hadn¡¯t set correctly. As a wolf, it was hardly noticeable, but when he was a boy, he had difficulties running. It wasn¡¯t a big issue, but Greg took note of it anyway. Here was another thing, that could permanently hurt or even cripple a werewolf: The bite of another one.


    Something else to watch out for.


    The next morning, Greg, Thoko, and Nathan set out for Eoforwic at the first light of dawn. Andrew saw them off, and Duke Desmarais had another letter for Duke George Louis.


    ¡°Do not, under any circumstances, let this fall into the hands of the clergy,¡± Desmarais had warned them. As if they needed warning.


    Greg still wondered how much longer they could keep this secret. There were just too many people involved now, too many people who knew that a werewolf could fight the Rot. The Church would have to find out soon if they didn¡¯t know already.


    Yet the three of them reached Eoforwic unchallenged. They weren¡¯t even checked as they boarded a train of the Imperial Line.


    The yard in front of the Lackland Railway Company was crawling with people, when Greg, Thoko, and Nathan rode up the street. There were three or maybe four times as many people as when Greg had first hired up with Eyal and his crew.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Busy,¡± Nathan noted.


    ¡°Hard to believe they are all here to build a railway to Mannin,¡± Thoko said.


    They would need a dozen werewolves to protect these many people, Greg thought, even with the Morgulon, who deLande had sent here before even riding out with David.


    Eyal and crew were gathered at the same inn as a year ago, and it was just as dirty and dark as Greg remembered. The only difference was that there were four more like it now, and still people were camping out in the street. Thoko relaxed as soon as they were inside.


    Nathan raised his eyebrows. ¡°This is where you stayed?¡±


    ¡°One night,¡± Greg replied. ¡°And I didn¡¯t miss it.¡±


    ¡°The roof doesn¡¯t leak, and we¡¯re amongst friends,¡± Isaac said and hugged Greg in greeting.


    Greg was so surprised, he barely managed not to pull back.


    ¡°Still not a hugger, huh? It¡¯s less than half-moon.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just grouchy about the sleeping arrangements,¡± Nathan said and hugged Isaac back.


    More of Isaac¡¯s relatives were already gathering around to greet Thoko. Oli almost ran her over in his enthusiasm. He looked human today, and chatted away excitedly, to tell Thoko all she had missed over the last few months.


    ¡°What¡¯s with all the people outside?¡± Greg asked Eyal, once everybody quietened down a little.


    ¡°They all want their piece of the cake,¡± Eyal said. ¡°Don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll never make it,¡± Greg said, shocked.


    ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t be so sure,¡± Eyal replied. ¡°Word got around, you see. Rhuad left us for a different crew, couldn¡¯t stand being around Porter, I guess. And Duke George Louis, well, he had a shakedown around the beggars, both here in Eoforwic and up around Mannin. Had four more werewolves brought down here.¡±


    ¡°What about the Church?¡± Greg asked.


    Eyal laughed. ¡°Oh, the clergy? The brave defenders of all that¡¯s rotten? They aren¡¯t welcome round here anymore. Just a couple of weeks ago, Bishop-something-or-other came riding up here, you see, with his bloody guard, ordered the duke to hand over his werewolves or suffer the consequences. Duke laughed in his face. So the bishop, he raised the Rot, small and large, sent it against the new walls they finally pulled up. Oh, let me tell you, we were all about to wet our pants. But the duke, he just sent forth this one werewolf, one. Gangly creature, too. But the moment that wolf is between us and the Rot? We couldn¡¯t even feel the ugly things anymore. They just got ripped to pieces.


    And the most beautiful part of the story? Half the city watched the bishop turn tail. And people started thinking, you see. This close to the Savre, lots of people get killed by the Rot, and livestock, too. By werewolves, not so much. By sane werewolves? Nobody at all.¡±


    ¡°So they drove out what Mithrans remained in the city,¡± Isaac added. ¡°All except for the nuns in the hospital.¡±


    Greg shuddered and looked at Nathan. His brother just grinned gleefully.


    ¡°Why are ye looking like that?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°I¡¯d have thought ye¡¯d be happy.¡±


    ¡°This is going to get really ugly,¡± Greg said. ¡°We can fight the Rot, yes, but not an army. And that¡¯s what the High Inquisitor will send to Eoforwic.¡±


    ¡°No, he won¡¯t,¡± Nathan disagreed. ¡°Can¡¯t, in fact. Only the viceroy can command the Imperial troops.¡±


    ¡°What about the Uronian Guard?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Okay, d¡¯Evier got those,¡± Nathan admitted. ¡°But there¡¯s not that many of them. And I bet Duke George Louis has a few regiments of his own.¡±


    ¡°And what if the viceroy throws in with the Church?¡± Isaac¡¯s cousin Gavrel asked.


    ¡°He won¡¯t,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Duke Desmarais hates the Rot more than anyone else here. He was really angry when he found out the Church had been keeping secrets about how werewolves can fight it.¡±


    Greg nodded slowly. He still felt worried, but there was nothing more to do.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go find George Louis,¡± Nathan said. ¡°I still need to deliver a message.¡±


    Thoko preferred to stay with the crew, to catch up about what happened in the past three months. Greg went with Nathan. They had to push their way through the mass of people in front of the company¡¯s headquarters, and then argue with the guard at the door. They had clear orders not to let any more people inside. Only the seal of the viceroy finally convinced them to let them pass.


    Inside, there were almost as many people as outside. Men stood lined up in long queues in front of the heavy counters in the main hall, to get their names registered onto the endless lists. Only one clerk had nothing to do at all: A poster was pinned to his table. ¡°Werewolves wanted ALIVE¡± it said, and instead of guards with shiny breastplates and the colours of George Louis, this clerk was flanked by a couple of men in sturdy leather, crossbows at the ready.


    Nathan swayed over to greet them. ¡°Ronon, Lafayette, how did you land yourself in this?¡± he called the two hunters, who turned and grinned, and held out their hands when they saw him.


    ¡°Nathan bloody Feleke,¡± one of them greeted. ¡°Good to see you, man. How¡¯s your family? The Valoise haven¡¯t got them yet, I hope?¡±


    ¡°This is Greg, my little brother,¡± Nathan said. ¡°And the rest of them are fine, too. But how did you end up in this mess?¡±


    ¡°Volunteered,¡± the other man said, who hadn¡¯t spoken yet. He, too, shook hands with Nathan and Greg. ¡°Been getting tired of the killing for a while,¡± he continued. ¡°Bringing them in alive sounded like a nice change.¡±


    ¡°Not much to do here, though,¡± Nathan noted.


    ¡°Today is boring, yeah,¡± said the first man. ¡°Yesterday we had a couple.¡±


    ¡°How many have been here, total?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been here eight days, we¡¯ve seen three who actually walked in here. Werewolf¡¯s got to have balls to just walk up like everyone else. More show up at night, or get stopped at the gates.¡±


    ¡°In the past month, eleven werewolves have joined the company,¡± the clerk piped up. ¡°Not including the four who were already registered last fall, but including the werewolf sent here by Countess deLande.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a special one, all right,¡± the two hunters nodded. ¡°Trust deLande to go above and beyond everyone else. Rumour has it, she caught the bloody Morgulon, alive.¡±


    ¡°David reckons it¡¯s true,¡± Nathan said. ¡°But we better get moving, and see for ourselves.¡±


    They had to dissuade an overexcited clerk who had pegged them as werewolf hunters and wanted to lead them somewhere to get ¡°read in¡±, but eventually, they reached the office of Duke George Louis. Inside, they could hear a heated argument. Greg was a little surprised when he realized that the topic was mathematics and the yelling contenders were engineers.


    After several minutes, the duke had the two kicked out and warned them that he¡¯d have them stand underneath their bridge while the first train went over and that they better be sure about their numbers. Greg couldn¡¯t help but grin when the two elderly gentlemen walked by, their sombre suits in disarray. They were still arguing and didn¡¯t seem to notice either him or Nathan.


    Nathan simply walked in, before the door closed again. ¡°Message from Duke Desmarais,¡± he called when a guard tried to stop him.


    ¡°The Honourable Nathan Feleke, very good,¡± Duke George Louis said, and held out his hand.


    Greg followed Nathan quickly, who strode up to the duke¡¯s table as if he owned the place, to hand over the letter.


    ¡°Any word from your oldest brother and Countess deLande?¡± Duke George Louis asked.


    ¡°They were inquiring on a rumour, Your Highness, about another elder werewolf. I don¡¯t think they had much hope, though, of actually finding anything useful when we last got word of them,¡± Nathan replied. ¡°They planned to continue on to Northwold, to see if they can find anyone in the surrounding forests.¡±


    ¡°Very good,¡± Duke George Louis said absentmindedly, scanning the letter. ¡°Yes, very good indeed. I¡¯ll need you to stay close, Sir Nathan.¡±


    He never looked at Greg when he added: ¡°Werewolves may stay at the workers¡¯ accommodations provided Mr. Levi will vouch and take responsibility for them. All other werewolves may choose between staying downstairs in the basement cells or staying in the forest. Food is delivered to them once a day, so they can focus on clearing the swamp alongside the river. They are not allowed inside the city without a hunter.¡±


    ¡°Noted,¡± Nathan said.


    Greg decided it was probably safer not to speak at all

 Chapter 25

    Greg and Nathan returned to the inn. Greg had considered finding a hotel somewhere in the old city, but apparently, he was stuck. He was quite surprised when Nathan asked for a cot, too.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to hang around,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that Eyal will be willing to vouch for me.¡±


    ¡°And where would you have me go?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°I¡¯m not keen on riding down here from the old city every time the duke wants me.¡±


    ¡°Engineers get rooms at the main building,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°I bet they¡¯d give you one, too.¡±


    ¡°And listen to them argue numbers all night? No thanks,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that. I¡¯ve stayed at plenty of worse places than this.¡±


    ¡°And here I was thinking you all grew up in the same ivory tower,¡± Isaac interrupted.


    Nathan threw himself onto his cot, arms crossed behind his head. ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, Isaac. The only werewolf who lives in an ivory tower is the one I won¡¯t hunt. And hunters go wherever the prey goes. That includes sleeping where the prey sleeps.¡±


    Nathan was right, of course. He, and Andrew, and most of all David, had grown up in the wild as much as in Deva or Heron Hall. Only Greg had always been kept behind. Maybe he wouldn¡¯t even need a guard today and somebody who would vouch for him, if they had all trusted him a little more, let him come along a little earlier. If his first hunt hadn¡¯t gone after the biggest pack in who knew how long.


    ¡°You¡¯ll still need to find a place where the horses can stay,¡± he told Nathan as calmly as he could. ¡°They can¡¯t remain tied up outside for the next few days, and I doubt this place has stables.¡±


    Nathan sighed but sat up. ¡°I hate it when you¡¯re right,¡± he complained.


    Greg watched him go, then grabbed his knapsack. It was packed with the bare necessities needed to survive in the forest for a few days, plus his money.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Isaac asked when he moved for the door.


    ¡°I need to find Eyal,¡± Greg said. ¡°I need him to vouch for me, or the company will have me locked up in the basement cells with the other werewolves.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Eyal¡¯s in the refectory, last I saw him.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Greg said. To his relief, Isaac didn¡¯t follow him. He had no intention to talk to Eyal. He liked the crew, and he loved all his brothers, but there was no way he would sit on his cot all day, listening to Isaac and Nathan joke about him.


    The guards at the gate let him pass again, and as soon as he was out of their sight, he started undressing. He stuffed all his clothes into the bag, then rearranged the straps. Andrew had helped him fix them so that when he transformed, the pack still sat securely on his back.


    His wolf-self barely noticed the weight, but the frustration he had felt as a human carried over, amplified by his transformation. Without thinking about it, he threw his head back and howled his anger out into the world.


    The answer followed promptly: he could tell four different voices apart. Two carried a warning to stay away, one felt just like a neutral hello, while the third gave him an impression of ¡°welcome,¡± of ¡°come on over.¡±


    Greg shook his head in annoyance. Of course, the first impression he gave to his fellow werewolves was that of an insolent teenager.


    He stood there, stiff-legged and uncertain. He had chosen the forest because he had wanted to be left alone, but curiosity got the better of him. One of the voices had invited him, despite the mood his own howl had no doubt conveyed.


    He set off at a swift run. The other part of him liked to run, wanted to eat the distance. The underbrush didn¡¯t slow him down, and neither did the increasingly marshy ground. Every now and then, he passed the remains of a Rot creature, some of them as big as the creature that had broken Greg¡¯s shoulder blade. He wondered if the other werewolves in the area would come to his aid if he had to face another one like that.


    He should better work at making a decent second impression, after he had so thoroughly botched the first.


    It was hard to judge how long he had been running when he finally reached a small pack. Three werewolves greeted him, all in their wolf-shape. Two of them were female, one male. He had no idea how old they might be as humans, but he knew just by meeting them that they had been werewolves longer than him. One of the female ones was only a little older than him, then came the male, and the second female was the oldest of them, which made her the leader. It had been she who had called him, Greg knew that without a doubt, and he would be allowed to stay as long as she decided.


    All three of them seemed friendly enough, though, curious about him and the pack on his back. They communicated easily amongst themselves. Greg didn¡¯t understand, which didn¡¯t seem to bother them. He was swept along when they patrolled what he later realized was their territory. Their stretch of land to clean of the Rot, right at the banks of the Savre.


    The actual work began late in the afternoon, and by then Greg was at least getting an inkling of what their body language meant. The older she-wolf gave the signal to start the hunt when the shadows grew long, and she led it, too. Between the four of them, even the bigger Rot creatures that climbed out of the swamps were no trouble.


    Food was delivered the next morning, and here, too, a strict hierarchy was followed. The first one to approach the cart was a single she-wolf. Greg was watching with his new pack, and even over the distance of at least several hundred yards, maybe half a mile, Greg could feel her power, like static in the air. After her came a male wolf, strong but not even close to her. And then Greg¡¯s pack was moving.


    Greg could understand Marianne a lot better after that meal of cold, raw beef. At least it was fresh meat, not just old offal.


    Food at the inn probably isn¡¯t much better, he reminded himself. And at least out here, nobody laughed about his ¡°refined palate.¡±


    The pack returned to its territory and settled down on a dry, sunny spot of ground. Greg dozed off quite happily.


    Nobody came to get him. Greg wasn¡¯t sure what to make of that. It wasn¡¯t that he minded, not exactly. It was nice to be left alone, to be allowed to make the decision to stay in the forest. Still ¨C it was unexpected.


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    And he was maybe a little disappointed?


    If somebody had come to get him, he would have turned them away. There was no way he would stay at Eyal¡¯s heel like a good dog or let himself be escorted by Nathan and his loaded crossbow, even if it was purely for appearance¡¯s sake.


    But he hadn¡¯t expected Nathan to understand that. Or the rest of the crew.


    Of course, it was perfectly possible that nobody dared to enter the Rot-infested swamp to come and get him.


    Time flowed strangely when he was in this shape. When he woke up in his human body, it seemed both a very long time and very shortly since he had made the decision to stay in the forest. It had been three days, Greg realized with a glance into the sky, where a narrow crescent was paling in the sunrise.


    He could have forced another transformation, but this close to new moon, it would have been really painful. He didn¡¯t see the point. Instead, he pulled his clothes out of his pack, got dressed, and went over to a clean little creek for a drink.


    When he returned, at least two of his new packmates had turned human as well, the guy and one of the women. He was a small, wiry man somewhere in his mid- to late thirties, Greg guessed. She was older, in her early fifties at least. They both had wolfish eyes, even in this form, and the multi-coloured hair that gave so many werewolves away. He had the very pale skin of the native Loegrians, she the darker bronze tone most of the Valoise shared. Still much lighter than Greg¡¯s own dark brown skin, of course.


    They both didn¡¯t seem to mind Greg¡¯s inquisitive looks, despite the fact that they were stark naked.


    ¡°Bernadette,¡± the woman said, offering Greg a hand. He introduced himself as well.


    ¡°Boris,¡± added the guy.


    ¡°Fleur should be back in a moment. She¡¯s shy,¡± Bernadette said.


    When Fleur returned, she was dressed, and brought clothes for the other two as well. Greg had no idea where they had hidden them.


    Fleur could pass as human in this body. She had long, glossy black hair, and otherwise might have been Bernadette¡¯s daughter. Greg guessed that she was about his own age.


    ¡°What happens next?¡± Greg asked once the others were dressed.


    ¡°We go get food,¡± Bernadette explained. ¡°I hope you¡¯ve got a knife? Good. We¡¯ll get ourselves some nice roasts. That¡¯s going to take all day. If we¡¯re lucky, the night remains dry, we don¡¯t really have a den. Nothing happens until new moon is over. Afterwards, they¡¯ll hopefully start on their railway, but I have no idea how that¡¯s supposed to go.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go?¡± Boris asked.


    ¡°Yes, let¡¯s,¡± Bernadette agreed. ¡°Some of the new people have no respect at all,¡± she added. ¡°Not you, Greg, you¡¯re fine. Others. Stepping out of line on new moon, cutting in front of their elders. Not in front of the Morgulon, of course, nobody¡¯s that daft, but still.¡±


    They started walking, and Bernadette asked: ¡°You¡¯re new, aren¡¯t you? Where did they hire you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, um, no,¡± Greg mumbled. ¡°I was the first, actually.¡±


    ¡°The first what?¡± Bernadette asked.


    ¡°The first werewolf who hired up with a crew of navvies,¡± Greg explained. ¡°On the line to Sheaf.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± Boris said. ¡°You¡¯re barely, what ¨C a year old? And wasn¡¯t the first one called James? How did you convince them to hire you?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell them I was a werewolf until the Rot showed up. Once I¡¯d saved their lives, they were eager to keep me around,¡± Greg said. ¡°The crew I worked with, they invented this werewolf named John.¡±


    ¡°Sheaf¡¯s fairly high ground,¡± Bernadette said slowly. ¡°Dry ground, too, Rot probably wasn¡¯t too bad, was it? Only the little creepers?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Greg said. ¡°Certainly nothing like around here.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯ll get worse once we¡¯re farther away from the city,¡± Boris said cheerfully.


    ¡°So, you heard about ¡®John¡¯?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Why do you think we¡¯re here?¡± Boris asked. ¡°Everyone who knows anything knows about John,¡± he added. ¡°Every werewolf, I mean.¡±


    They all wanted to know more, of course, so Greg told them in more detail how he had been bitten and had to leave Deva, how he had joined Eyal¡¯s crew, and a lot of what had happened after. He didn¡¯t tell them that he was noble himself ¨C born noble, at least, not that it mattered anymore. It had been nice to pretend, at Castle Blanc, but the faster he accepted that it had been just that, pretence, the easier the future would be to bear. He managed to talk of his father and his brothers as if they were just people he used to know, employers perhaps, and not family, and Bernadette and Boris didn¡¯t dwell on them. Fleur hardly spoke at all.


    ¡°So you never actually met the Morgulon?¡± Bernadette asked.


    Greg shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve never been a wolf this long,¡± he mentioned. ¡°Are you usually...¡±


    He trailed off.


    ¡°We noticed,¡± Bernadette said, smiling kindly. ¡°Takes some getting used to, but you¡¯ll get the hang of it. I¡¯m not like some, I like being human just fine, but it¡¯s just not practical for the forest.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been a werewolf for a long time, haven¡¯t you?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Over ten years now,¡± Bernadette said proudly. ¡°Calder is a little older than me, but you wanna stay clear of him, he doesn¡¯t like company. Terrible grouch.¡±


    ¡°You know him?¡± Greg asked.


    Bernadette shrugged. ¡°We all sort of know each other. All the older ones, I mean.¡±


    ¡°How old is an older werewolf?¡± Greg asked.


    Bernadette paused. ¡°I met the Morgulon almost five years ago,¡± she said. ¡°Boris here, he was only four when he met her, too. She sort of ¨C comes to find you.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Greg said. ¡°I thought she stayed in the mountains.


    ¡°Well, yes, obviously,¡± Bernadette said. ¡°Up in the mountains, or north of Mannin. It¡¯s the only place where we can live, Greg. It¡¯s different, there, hardly any people. Much less danger of running into anyone on full moon, and if you do get to a village, there¡¯s even a chance you¡¯ll get some charity. But his dukeship had us drafted like soldiers.¡±


    ¡°So, the Morgulon knows all of you?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°The older ones of us, at least,¡± Bernadette said. ¡°I don¡¯t think she told anyone, though. I think that¡¯s why we have so many people here who are your age, or even younger.¡±


    Greg nodded thoughtfully. Maybe Eyal had been right, maybe he should try his luck somewhere north of Mannin. If George Louis didn¡¯t force him to protect the other line, too, across the mountains.


    ¡°We heard a rumour,¡± Boris said. ¡°About land up north for everyone who helps out here?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Werewolves can¡¯t own anything. Let alone land.¡±


    Silence fell among them at that cheerful thought, until they reached the place where the food was dropped off. The werewolves moved much closer together, now that they were all human.


    All except the Morgulon, who dragged off a whole calf. Greg and his new pack walked away with several very nice cuts of pork, and there was bread, too, this time, and some carrots. Bernadette knew where to find the very first wild onions. A few hours later, they had a very nice roast indeed.


    The fire was Greg¡¯s job. The other three seemed extremely glad to leave that to him. They did spend the day around it, talking about how each of them had been bitten, talking about the railway.


    ¡°This other duke,¡± Fleur asked, surprising them all. ¡°What does he offer?¡±


    Greg thought about the hut Marianne had called a castle. He had thought she had been cynical when she did.


    ¡°Don¡¯t know, exactly,¡± he said slowly. ¡°I¡¯ve met one werewolf who got a little hut, at least. Cause they don¡¯t need to move around so much, to protect farms, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Might be worth trying to jump ships then,¡± Boris said. ¡°A hut would be nice.¡±


    ¡°With a real bed?¡± Fleur asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Greg nodded.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Boris muttered.


    ¡°We¡¯ll stay for summer,¡± Bernadette decided. ¡°We¡¯ll see what the situation is, then.¡±


    Greg felt himself nodding along.


    He could always return to Heron Hall, keep his family¡¯s lands safe. What would that feel like? Once again staying behind while everyone else came and went? He¡¯d be a lord as long as he stayed home, and a monster anytime he left. Would that be better, to stay in the golden cage? Or was he better off getting used to the forest floor?


    He¡¯d wait until summer was over, too, and see what he felt like then.


    Bernadette smiled at him. ¡°I knew I was right about you,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re a pack animal, just like me.¡±


    Greg tilted his head and looked at her, confused. He didn¡¯t realize that he had used the werewolf¡¯s gesture for ¡°what do you mean?¡± until her smile widened.


    ¡°Some of us are happy alone,¡± Bernadette explained. ¡°Some are real loners. Me, I can¡¯t stand it. I¡¯ve always needed a pack. And you can feel it, too, can¡¯t you? How right this feels, being with others of your own kind? Humans just can¡¯t replace that, just you wait until after full moon.¡±


    Greg had no idea what she meant by that last remark but didn¡¯t say anything. He thought he could maybe feel a little of what she meant about the pack, though. Something about this just felt right.

 Chapter 26

    The next day, there were a bunch of guards and werewolf hunters at the food drop-off, and no food. Instead, they were informed that they had better come along quietly. The crews were to move out tomorrow, and they were to stay the night in Eoforwic.


    ¡°So that¡¯s why they waited until new moon,¡± Greg muttered darkly.


    Nobody resisted when they were all loaded onto the same kind of cart that usually transported prisoners. It had solid steel bars all around and a barrier of wood between the inmates and the driver. Nobody looked happy when they were escorted into the cells in the basement of the company headquarters, but once again, no one resisted.


    At least Greg got to share a cell with the rest of his new pack.


    It had no furniture beyond a stinking bucket.


    ¡°I can tell this duke really wants our help,¡± Boris griped.


    Greg couldn¡¯t help but wonder if Eyal and Nathan didn¡¯t know about this, or if they were still mad at him for leaving without a word. In any case, he got to stay his first night in a cell. It was an experience he could have done without.


    Luckily, it really was just one night. When the crews set out the next day, each butty gang received one of the prison carts. Greg, Porter, and even Oli were led straight into one of them. Greg craned his neck, but he lost sight of Bernadette, Boris, and Fleur. Only Isaac and Thoko stared at him, so he sat down again and wrapped his arms around himself.


    He felt really, really stupid.


    ¡°Sun¡¯s bloody ashes,¡± he heard Porter swear. ¡°I knew I never should have signed up for this madness.¡±


    Greg silently agreed.


    Eyal let them out as soon as they were out of the guard¡¯s sight. Oli hopped off to hug him. Porter and Greg followed more slowly.


    ¡°What the hell happened?¡± Eyal asked.


    ¡°Oh, so they didn¡¯t tell you?¡± Porter griped. ¡°Rounded us all up yesterday, locked us up in the basement for no good reason, real pleasure. Prison cells, on new moon! Oh, they wouldn¡¯t have been so cocky any other night, the bloody cowards...¡±


    ¡°And you?¡± Eyal asked, looking at Greg.


    ¡°I was given a choice, get locked up at the inn with you, or stay in the forest.¡±


    ¡°You just said we needed to vouch for you,¡± Isaac complained. ¡°Why¡¯d you lie about that?¡±


    ¡°There was nothing you could do, and I wanted to save myself the argument.¡±


    ¡°So a week in the forest alone was better than a week with us at the inn?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a week,¡± Greg grumbled. ¡°And I wasn¡¯t alone. And it certainly wasn¡¯t about you.¡±


    Except that it had been, a little.


    ¡°What was it, then?¡± Thoko asked.


    Greg shrugged. ¡°I just didn¡¯t want to have Nathan to have to follow me with a loaded crossbow everywhere I went.¡±


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t have,¡± Thoko said.


    ¡°He¡¯d have had to, since Duke George Louis decided I needed a guard or at least a leash.¡± He looked around. ¡°Where is Nathan, anyway?¡±


    ¡°I bet he¡¯ll be here soon,¡± Thoko said. ¡°And good luck explaining that stunt to him. He was really worried.¡±


    ¡°And pissed,¡± Isaac added.


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg muttered.


    He stared up into the sky. Not much longer and he could turn again, and wouldn¡¯t have to explain anything. And maybe he could find the other three?


    Unfortunately, Nathan caught up with them first. He jumped out of the saddle right next to Greg, and they walked in silence for a while. Eventually, Nathan said: ¡°That was the second time, little brother. If you run away on me again, I swear by sun and moon that I¡¯ll shoot your arse.¡±


    ¡°You do realize what I am now, don¡¯t you?¡± Greg asked. ¡°I¡¯ll be running away for the rest of my life, so I suggest you start picking darts.¡±


    ¡°You could have told me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d have argued.¡±


    ¡°You really think I¡¯m that stupid?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°Hell, I get it, you didn¡¯t want to get locked up, I couldn¡¯t stand that myself. I can¡¯t even stand Deva more than a few weeks at a time. You and Andrew, you were always the ones who were different, the civilized ones. One word and I¡¯d have followed you out of the city, we could have made camp somewhere, no big deal. Instead, you left me behind, wondering how the fuck I explain that to Mum!¡±


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    ¡°I miss Deva,¡± Greg muttered.


    He missed Mr. Higgins and his lessons, going out drinking with Gustave, shopping with his mother on the High Street. He would have liked to go to university one day, maybe become an engineer. He missed the theatres, the opera, the big celebrations at court.


    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± Nathan sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t really get it, but I know. It should have been me ¨C would have been me, if life made any sense. But fate¡¯s got a shitty sense of humour. Just let me come along, okay? Next time you run away, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°How long are you going to stay out here with the crews?¡±


    ¡°Depends on how fast you can get this line build, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°What if the duke needs you to carry another message?¡±


    Nathan shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s got plenty of reliable messengers.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I thought it was agreed-¡°


    ¡°It was agreed that he¡¯d treat you like a human being,¡± Nathan interrupted angrily. ¡°Like my brother, not like a criminal.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m not,¡± Greg said quietly. ¡°Human, I mean.¡±


    Nathan spat out onto the ground. ¡°One night out of twenty-nine? Not good enough for me.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t be king, though.¡±


    Nathan laughed harshly. ¡°Neither will George Louis, if he continues on like this. There¡¯s still Duke Desmarais.¡±


    Greg buried his hands in his pockets. He wanted to believe his brother, that things could be better. That he wouldn¡¯t have to get used to not being human, that humans might instead get used to him.


    ¡°Did you really hang around the forest the whole time?¡± Nathan changed the topic. ¡°What did you even do?¡±


    So Greg told him about Bernadette, Boris, and Fleur, which promptly led to the question: ¡°Is she pretty?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s more than twice as old as I am,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°As a human, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Both of them?¡±


    ¡°Fleur¡¯s younger,¡± Greg admitted. ¡°Don¡¯t know how old, though. I suppose she¡¯s fairly pretty?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to introduce us sometimes,¡± Nathan said.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they¡¯re still inside their cage,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t think they know their crew that well.¡±


    ¡°Good point,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Let me see about that.¡±


    He jumped back into the saddle and overtook the slow line of marching workers and their carts.


    ¡°Fairly pretty, huh?¡± Thoko said, taking Nathan¡¯s place. ¡°And how would I rate?¡±


    ¡°Very pretty,¡± Greg said, without thinking about it, then looked away quickly.


    ¡°Very good answer,¡± Isaac quipped.


    Thoko laughed when Greg didn¡¯t look at her again.


    ¡°Yes, very good answer,¡± she agreed, which made people all around them laugh.


    ¡°I got a question, too,¡± Porter said to Eyal, a couple of steps ahead of them. ¡°We only get that one cart, do we?¡± He pointed at the prison cart. ¡°Might get a bit cosy, come full moon.¡±


    ¡°We can test that tonight,¡± Eyal said. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t fit, we¡¯ll send Nathan back, so headquarters can send more.¡±


    First, though, they walked. Not very far, the truss only managed about a couple of miles every hour, but they kept going until after nightfall. A bunch of company clerks, comfortable on their horses, kept urging them on. The clerks were very unhappy that Nathan had made sure all the werewolves were out of their cages. Nathan just pointed towards the shrubs hiding the river, and asked: ¡°Would you rather deal with that on your own?¡±


    That killed all arguments against freeing the werewolves, though there was a lot of noise when the first narrow sickle of moonlight appeared and the Morgulon turned wolf again.


    She vanished into the darkness underneath the trees, right towards the Savre.


    ¡°Somebody is eager to get to work,¡± Eyal grumbled.


    By the next morning, when work was to start for all of them, the clerks had achieved at least one thing: Werewolves and navvies were united in their dislike of them. Especially groups like Eyal¡¯s, who had done the job before, were agitated about the interference into their own routines. Eyal and his relatives were doubly annoyed, that they hadn¡¯t been able to observe their traditions, which were tied to the first light of new moon.


    ¡°For no good reason, either,¡± Isaac groused. ¡°It¡¯s not like we made that much distance that late at night. And who are they, to tell us how to pitch our bloody tents?¡±


    Greg nodded along and shouldered his axe. The weather was dry, and he had meant to work with the others, like on their first tour. But he hadn¡¯t counted on the Savre and the surrounding swamps. They had barely started on the first tree when they felt the Rot move, a wave of sickness that shook them all. Greg had to hurry to get out of his clothes and into his other shape, and even then he ended up calling for help. The alternative would have been to spend an hour playing tag with the Rot-thing and to risk more broken bones.


    It was Bernadette who came to his aid. For her, it was hardly a fight at all. It wasn¡¯t that she was bigger, faster, or stronger than Greg. Quite the contrary. There was another kind of power at play here, something like magic. Or maybe it was magic. Greg¡¯s education in the sciences was firm, but Mr. Higgins had always frowned on the arcane arts.


    Now, Greg wished he knew a little bit more. Perhaps Thoko would know?


    The Rot drove the question from his mind. He had known, in theory, that along the Savre even the hottest, sunniest summer offered no safety. Knowing and experiencing it were completely different things, though. It was a constant, unending battle and fifteen werewolves were just enough to keep the workers safe. Nathan, Smith, and Eyal, and the crew leader of another experienced gang, fittingly named Digger, were the ones who organized a roster, which allowed each werewolf a full eight hours of sleep each day, and it was them who planned the ¡°full-moon-camp,¡± as there was no way that the werewolves could stay inside the cages for even one night and leave the camp defenceless.


    The company clerks argued, of course, but they were simply ignored. Eyal and Digger were the de facto leaders of the whole operation, so the butty gangs spent a whole day preparing an extra-wide fire border around one big camp. Eyal and Smith had learned from their run to Sheaf, and instead of digging a ditch, they piled up a bank, on top of which they placed their grilles. Together with the grilles, the mound was high enough that Greg couldn¡¯t jump it.


    ¡°If we do this smartly, we can later expand the mound and include it into the embankment for the tracks,¡± Smith said.


    So the whole thing was properly measured and engineered. Greg slept through most of the process. Nathan shook him awake. When Greg sat up, there was an air of controlled panic inside the huge camp. Fire guards were already up and patrolling, and only a small opening was left.


    ¡°You need to get going,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Greg struggled to his feet, yawning.


    ¡°Leave your clothes somewhere close to the mound,¡± Nathan told him. ¡°I¡¯ll try and get them.¡°


    Greg was apparently the last werewolf who got kicked out. The others were already outside.

 Chapter 27

    ¡°The good news is, nobody died or got bitten.¡±


    Greg blinked in confusion. Nathan was standing over him, crossbow held in an easy grip. They were somewhere in the forest.


    ¡°What¡¯s the bad news?¡± Greg mumbled.


    ¡°We lost three days,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Very interesting, that pack dynamic. And your Bernadette, very impressive.¡±


    He offered Greg a hand, and Greg let himself be pulled to his feet. His naked feet.


    ¡°Ouch,¡± he muttered.


    In answer, Nathan pushed a bag full of clothes into his hands.


    Together, they returned to the camp. Greg still felt a little disoriented. Where were Bernadette, Boris, and Fleur? Where was his pack?


    He shook his head. Three days. He had a very vague memory of them, of following Bernadette around and evading others.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he asked when they climbed the mound. From up the dyke he could see that all the workers had gathered at one end, at the foot of their defences. They were eerily quiet.


    ¡°We got to decide how to handle new moon,¡± Nathan explained.


    Eyal and Digger were climbing the bank when Greg and Nathan approached. Greg stood with Isaac, Thoko, and Randal, but Nathan went on to join the two crew leaders.


    Before either of the three could say anything, one of the navvies called: ¡°Who¡¯s guarding the camp right now? All the werewolves are here!¡±


    ¡°Not all,¡± Nathan said. ¡°We¡¯ve got the four strongest of them on patrol, it¡¯ll be fine. The issue is not today. The issue will be new moon.¡±


    ¡°What happened to the clerks?¡± Greg asked Isaac when all the workers started talking and yelling at once.


    ¡°Got scared senseless,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Quite the opposite,¡± Thoko disagreed. ¡°They finally came to their senses. One of the bigger Rot things climbed the bank, when the fires were low, yesterday during the rainfall. Would have gotten in, but one of you dragged it down again. Turned the thing to mush.¡±


    ¡°Certainly got into everybody¡¯s head,¡± Isaac said with a shudder. ¡°Froze us solid.¡±


    ¡°I think that was the first time the clerks realized how dangerous this job is,¡± Thoko added. ¡°They didn¡¯t argue anymore that we need a plan for new moon.¡±


    The plan that everybody agreed on, in the end, was to have one third of the crew fortify the full moon camp even further, while the other continued the work as usual. Then, a day before new moon, they would all hurry back here, to wait out new moon. For the next full moon, a new camp would be built and then again fortified until new moon, and so on, until they reached the point where the railway was to cross the Savre, a little more than halfway to Mannin.


    They actually reached that point two days before the third full moon. An old bridge, predating the Rot, crossed the river here. The mail coaches used it, so it had a fortified coaching inn on either side. The navvies began to erect fortifications immediately ¨C naturally in such a way that the inn was included into the camp. The crews celebrated this milestone with lots of beer.


    After full moon, Calder, one of the older werewolves, escorted a clerk back to Eoforwic to inform the company of the progress, and hand over Smith¡¯s reports.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    For Greg and the other werewolves, of course, there was little time to celebrate. The first proper break they got was on the next new moon, when they couldn¡¯t do much anyway. The Morgulon spent nearly the whole day sleeping, and did so outside, in the forest. Several other werewolves followed her example.


    Bernadette, Boris, and Fleur did enter the camp, apparently mostly because Greg had no intention to sleep on the forest floor. Bernadette and Boris both liked Eyal, Isaac, and the rest of the original crew, but Thoko and Fleur didn¡¯t get along. Greg had no idea what that was about, and it annoyed him to no end ¨C mostly because Isaac seemed to think that the unspoken argument was hilarious.


    Nathan seemed to think it was funny, too, but he was less obvious about it. Even so, it had taken Bernadette, Boris, and Fleur nearly two months to get used to him and his crossbow, and the idea that Greg was still close to his family of werewolf-hunters. By the time they had reached the bridge, though, Nathan had won them over, and they all dozed in the sun.


    Only Greg was too restless to lay on his back. The sun was glaring down on all of them, and most of the workers seemed determined to move as little as possible. There was no hint at all of the Rot, not even the slightest whiff, for the first time since they had started the work. Greg stared up towards the fire grilles on the dam surrounding the camp. Tonight should be quiet.


    ¡°Want to have a look at the old bridge?¡±


    Greg jumped when Smith suddenly stood behind him, but he nodded in relief.


    ¡°Well, come on,¡± Smith said. ¡°It¡¯s not a bad construction.¡±


    ¡°Why are we tearing it down then?¡± Greg asked, and followed the engineer towards the camp¡¯s gate.


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to hold a fully loaded train,¡± Smith explained. ¡°And while it¡¯s a well-built bridge, it¡¯s also over three-hundred years old, and the river seems to have been much narrower back then. Even without the railway, the timbers would need to be renewed soon.¡±


    ¡°In other words, the whole thing needs to go?¡± Greg asked.


    They had reached the coach road and had a good view of the construction.


    ¡°The wooden parts, yes,¡± Smith said. ¡°But this,¡± he stomped the ground, ¡°is some excellent stone-work, we can extend on that. Especially if the river returns back to its old bed.¡±


    ¡°Why would it?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Oh, haven¡¯t you noticed? With so many werewolves around, there¡¯s less Rot, and the swampy areas are getting smaller. It looks like the groundwater levels are dropping, but I¡¯ll need to get a geologist out here to say for sure. Oh, and the bridge will need to be wider, since the coach still needs to be able to pass here, too.¡±


    ¡°Why would anyone take the coach, once there¡¯s a railroad?¡± Greg asked, confused.


    Smith shrugged. ¡°I think it¡¯s stupid, too, but those are the specifications we¡¯ve been given.¡±


    He looked around. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s not that stupid,¡± he added. ¡°Maybe there¡¯ll even be foot traffic. Just think about it ¨C in a few years, this river might be cleansed entirely. There might be a town, soon, where the camp is now, with a proper railway station and a harbour. People will change trains here, from the line to Mannin onto the line to Clyde¡¯s Pass, or just spend a day in the city. People from Deva will travel here, just to take a stroll in the forest... It¡¯s all possible, now, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll see,¡± Greg said, staring at the trees. It was hard to imagine anyone would travel from Deva to go for a holiday here. Or was it? Sunlight was filtering through the leaves, which were moving in a slight breeze, and all they could smell was the cool, wet earth.


    What would it be like around here in a few years?


    Smith grinned, and changed the topic, straight into an analysis of the old bridge and its architecture, and then on to a description of what was planned for the new bridge. He walked around excitedly and showed Greg where exactly the new construction would be rooted into the earth, and which course the rails would follow. Greg¡¯s questions kept him going.


    ¡°Want to have a look at the blueprints, too?¡± he finally asked.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°You know, I have absolutely no idea why a guy as bright as you ever wanted to become a werewolf-hunter,¡± Smith said, a little sadly, as they turned away from the river. ¡°Mind you, I¡¯m not saying it was a wrong decision ¨C hell, I¡¯d most likely be dead if you hadn¡¯t gotten bitten. But still. It doesn¡¯t fit you at all.¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t think I really wanted to become a hunter,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I just wanted to ¨C to prove I could do the job, I suppose. The job the rest of my family did. If I hadn¡¯t been bitten, I¡¯d probably have quit by now, anyway. Maybe, I¡¯d be sitting at university right now. I¡¯d like to become an engineer, too. But I guess that ship has sailed.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not,¡± Smith said. ¡°If we can push this line all the way to Mannin, then why shouldn¡¯t a werewolf become an engineer?¡±


    ¡°People will still be scared,¡± Greg pointed out.


    Smith shrugged. ¡°All the navvies you work with used to be scared of werewolves,¡± he said. ¡°Remember how they reacted when the Morgulon transformed, that very first day of this job? And today? Let¡¯s go, grab a beer,¡± he added since they were just passing the inn¡¯s entrance.


    Greg followed the engineer rather hesitantly inside. The inn was packed with navvies, of course, and the proprietor could barely refill their glasses fast enough. Nobody gave Greg a second look, though.

 Chapter 28

    David felt himself relax when they crossed the border to Courtenay Barony. Lee, too, stretched in the saddle. Only Lane deLande was still looking around watchfully. They had had a run-in with a couple of clerics and their guards a few miles back. The only reason things hadn¡¯t turned ugly was that the Mithrans hadn¡¯t recognized Lee for what he was. They had known, though, that Lane and David served the two dukes, thus opposing the Church.


    Word had spread fast, especially after the bishop had been forced to flee Eoforwic. David could only hope that Nathan and Greg had reached the city safely. Maybe there would be word from them when they reached Heron Hall.


    His mother had guests when they arrived at the Hall, ladies from the neighbouring estates, landed gentry mostly. Lee hurried to get out of sight.


    Lane rolled her eyes when the gentlewomen bobbed up and down in front of her but switched into the role of countess fairly easily. Mostly to request a bath.


    David followed her example. He took his time and was a little disappointed when the ladies were still there, after he had gotten dressed. His mother threw him a look, so apparently, he hadn¡¯t hidden his disappointment well enough.


    ¡°It¡¯s most fortunate that you could join us,¡± Imani informed him and Lane brightly. ¡°Our guests would like to learn more about werewolves and their abilities.¡±


    David had to take a deep breath to force down his annoyance. They needed these ladies of good standing as their allies, he reminded himself. They were the mothers, and wives, and sisters of publishers and entrepreneurs, of merchants and aspiring politicians, but likewise of lords and peers, too. They lived right at the transition between nobility and the aspiring upper civic society. Patriotism was strong amongst them. Whoever reached for the throne would need their support, or at least their goodwill. And whoever wanted to normalize the standing of werewolves, too. It was the bourgeoisie who owned most of the new newspapers.


    So David and Lane spent some time making nice with the ladies, to put them at ease, before David offered to introduce them to a real, living werewolf. Then he went to convince Lee to play along.


    ¡°He looks so human,¡± somebody said, as soon as they entered, and Imani smiled.


    ¡°Lee is entirely human, Colette,¡± she said. ¡°Twenty-eight days out of twenty-nine.¡±


    ¡°But surely it¡¯s that one night that counts,¡± said another woman sharply.


    ¡°Is it?¡± Imani asked, voice still bright. ¡°Do you have an ice house on your lands?¡±


    ¡°Of course we do,¡± the lady huffed.


    ¡°Well then, you have everything you need to keep your family safe during that one night, Lady deTyss.¡±


    ¡°An ice house,¡± the lady repeated doubtfully. She had a nose like an eagle¡¯s beak, pale skin, and blond hair going grey, covered nearly completely by an elaborate lace-bonnet. Her black dress on the other hand was prim rather than fashionable.


    David hadn¡¯t met Lady deTyss in years, and he was a little surprised to see her here now. In his memory, she was a stickler both for etiquette and for tradition, a thoroughly respectable woman, who would never be mixed up in anything as exotic as werewolf-taming.


    ¡°Or any basement with a trapdoor,¡± Lane added. ¡°Or just a hole in the ground, provided it¡¯s deep and steep enough.¡±


    ¡°How deep is deep enough?¡± someone else asked.


    ¡°Ten feet,¡± Lee said, making all the ladies jump.


    ¡°Ten feet? That¡¯s not all that deep,¡± said Lady deTyss, who recovered quickly. ¡°The old moat around our estate is deeper than that.¡±


    ¡°Make it fifteen feet, if it¡¯s big enough for a werewolf to get a running start,¡± Lane said. ¡°And the walls need to be nearly vertical. But yes, it¡¯s that simple. Werewolves can jump far, but not very high. They can climb a little, but they are no goats. And on full moon, they have none of the human intelligence they possess any other day.¡±


    ¡°How far, Madame?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°You said they can jump far,¡± the young girl sitting next to Lady deTyss repeated. David was fairly certain she was a daughter.


    Lane shrugged. ¡°We haven¡¯t had a competition yet. But you have to keep in mind: A large deer can cross a road in one jump, that¡¯s eight or nine yards, easily. You want to at least double that.¡±


    ¡°And do they swim?¡± the girl asked. She paused, glancing at Lee, and added: ¡°Do you swim?¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lee said. ¡°A river is not good protection, even a fast-flowing one like the Torrent.¡±


    ¡°So they can jump across the moat, mother,¡± the girl said, turning to Lady deTyss. ¡°But not out, once they¡¯re down there. The Rot can, though.¡±


    Lady deTyss pursed her lips and eyed Lee again thoughtfully. ¡°So,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°If one needed to hire someone like you, say just for a month or two, how would one go about it?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have a permanent Rot problem?¡± Lee asked.


    ¡°Her eldest daughter-in-law is with child,¡± Imani explained gently.


    ¡°I see,¡± Lee said. ¡°How soon?¡±


    ¡°Three months,¡± the Lady said.


    Lee grimaced and looked at David.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Lady deTyss asked sharply.


    ¡°There are very few sane werewolves left,¡± David said calmly. ¡°And three months is not enough time to ascertain the state of mind of a newly-bitten one. We will swing by, and Lee can make sure the mother and child will be safe, but for the future, you might want to keep an eye out for anyone freshly turned. That way, you can have a ¨C a home-grown werewolf, so to speak. They can keep fairly large territories safe, provided the Rot problem is mild.¡±


    ¡°What if the White Torrent goes to Rot, and the problem becomes worse?¡± Lady Colette asked.


    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t need to worry about the Torrent,¡± Imani said, smiling soothingly. ¡°My husband, Abraham Feleke, has already discussed the issue with the Dukes Desmarais and Stewart. The river was protected by a werewolf until about last year, and both dukes agreed to find another one to do so.¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡± Lady deTyss asked, looking at Lee.


    ¡°If they don¡¯t find anyone else, I could probably try,¡± Lee said slowly. ¡°But they already have a better candidate. It¡¯s basically just an issue of price at this point.¡±


    ¡°Of price?¡± the ladies asked shocked.


    ¡°George Louis got a claim on the werewolf in question,¡± David explained. ¡°You all heard about her, she was the one who protected Eoforwic when Bishop Boyen tried to have the city destroyed. She¡¯s exceptionally powerful, so naturally, he wants her for his railway, not send her away.¡±


    ¡°So why is she better a protector than you?¡± Lady Colette asked. ¡°Or is this a female of the species sort of thing?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an age thing,¡± Lee said, which of course only led to more questions. David, Lane, and Lee gave their best to answer them, and after a while, many of the ladies didn¡¯t even seem to remember that they were talking to a werewolf. Some were still troubled, though, by the idea of having a werewolf around permanently, while they were all quite keen to have one close at hand in that crucial first month after a childbirth. Sorcerers claimed that there was magic in the act of giving birth, and it had to be true, David guessed. The Rot loved nothing more than babies and their mothers.


    After a while, Lee walked out and returned a few minutes later as wolf. There were some shrieks of surprise, but nobody ran out.


    ¡°That went well,¡± Imani said, when the ladies were all either on their way home or retreating to their guest rooms. ¡°You showed up at just the right time.¡±


    David nodded tiredly.


    ¡°Nathan sent you a letter,¡± his mother went on and produced the envelope.


    ¡°Did you open it?¡± David asked.


    ¡°I did not,¡± his mother said with fond indignation. ¡°All of our mail appears to have been opened.¡±


    David sighed. They weren¡¯t even subtle about it. He pulled out the letter and shook it open.


    ¡°Dear David,¡± it read. ¡°You need to have a word with your ex, that dame is really getting out of line. If her head gets any bigger, she won¡¯t fit through the door anymore.


    But you courted her, so I guess you know that already. Anyway, if you do swing around Deva, Greg wants you to tell Mr. Higgins he misses the city and his lesson in Valoisian grammar.


    Personally, I prefer the forest, but I suppose I can¡¯t switch places with him right now. Might accompany him a little, though. So don¡¯t be surprised if I don¡¯t answer to messages.


    The company has commenced operations on the line to Mannin right after new moon. They¡¯re driving the men on like animals, so I¡¯m sure work will be swift, even with the forest looming above them. Either that, or they¡¯ll have a fight on their hands. I guess we¡¯ll see soon.


    I¡¯ve written to Mum, like I promised, but if you see her, give her a hug from me, and tell her we¡¯re all right.


    Yours, Nathan.¡±


    ¡°Well?¡± his mother asked. ¡°What does he say?¡±


    David read the letter aloud again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I understand,¡± Imani said. ¡°But I don¡¯t like it anyway.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David said softly. ¡°I don¡¯t like it, either.¡±


    He scanned the letter again and cursed softly.


    ¡°Who is this ¡®dame¡¯ he writes about?¡± his mother asked.


    ¡°Duke George Louis,¡± David said. ¡°And he wants me to talk to him about the way the werewolves are treated, especially Greg, of course. I¡¯m just not sure if he¡¯s threatening to start a strike, or if he is referring to a fight with the Valoise. George will be in Deva soon, I take it?¡±


    ¡°The Season has started,¡± his mother said. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be there. Either to look for a wife or to conspire with the girls¡¯ fathers.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± David muttered. ¡°Of course. I guess I¡¯ll try and have a word with him. Not sure if it¡¯ll do any good, but it¡¯s worth a try.¡±


    ¡°Andrew and Bram will be there, too,¡± his mother informed him. ¡°They wrote to me that Duke Desmarais will be hosting the usual events, and dragged them with him. I¡¯d come, too, but I suppose it¡¯s better if I stay here to hold down the fort.¡±


    David nodded absentmindedly, still staring at the letter. Treating workers like animals. Werewolves certainly doubly so, oh yes. But what fight was Nathan talking about`? He was reckless enough to start a strike, and possibly even to talk the werewolves into abandoning their job ¨C but there was no way Greg would leave Isaac and the rest of his friends.


    Still, better if he reminded George Louis, and possibly later his werewolves, that a lot of people needed protection, and were willing to pay for it, too. Those werewolves who had proven themselves sane should have no trouble finding work elsewhere, so George better started treating them as assets, not like monsters.


    ¡°Court season, lovely,¡± Lane interrupted his thoughts. ¡°I¡¯ll need to swing around Wardshire, pack some dresses.¡±


    David nodded. It had been years since he had been to the viceroy¡¯s court at Deva Castle, not since he and George Louis had had their falling-out. He could pack everything he needed for a hunt literally in his sleep now. Going to court would require more thought.


    Unless ¨C he really didn¡¯t need to carry anything from Heron Hall, did he? He could pick up what he needed at the Town House.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need a couple of new suits,¡± his mother said as if she was reading his thoughts. ¡°If you have them made in Deva, it¡¯ll be faster, and they¡¯ll be of the latest fashion, too. You could let Yamikani do your hair, though, while you¡¯re here. She¡¯s really good.¡±

 Chapter 29

    David gave Lane a head start of a couple of days, and followed her then to Wardshire, to ride alongside the coach that carried her and her wardrobe. A second coach carried a group of her servants, as befitting for a countess. Guards rode ahead and behind them.


    It didn¡¯t take long for Lane to get tired of riding inside the coach, which was why she had brought the little roan mare. Soon she and David were riding side by side.


    ¡°The handmaids are all talking about us,¡± Lane said, trying to sound conversational.


    ¡°That was to be expected.¡±


    ¡°What your brother wrote ¨C is Duke George Louis really your ex-lover?¡± she asked carefully. ¡°Or was that just a jest?¡±


    David sighed inwardly. Aloud he said: ¡°George is the kind of man who wants to try everything in life once, and everyone, too. And he gets bored fast, usually. I was one of the few people he wanted to see more than twice. I used to think it meant something. Until he turned two of my ¨C of our ¨C best friends over to the Inquisition. They weren¡¯t even ¨C they got stoned for sodomy, amongst other charges. I left court after that.¡±


    ¡°When was that?¡± Lane asked.


    David frowned. ¡°Almost ten years ago. Right before he was crowned a duke.¡±


    ¡°Would you mind announcing our engagement at Deva? Or at least a courtship?¡±


    David stared at her. ¡°What?¡± was all he managed.


    ¡°Duke George Louis threatened to turn me over to the Inquisition, too,¡± Lane said calmly. ¡°For the same reason as your friends. That¡¯s why I had to do as he said when he ordered me to go looking for a living werewolf. A young, childless widow who won¡¯t marry again is exactly the kind of woman the Inquisition loves to stone to death.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think the Inquisition will rule here much longer,¡± David pointed out.


    ¡°You¡¯re very optimistic,¡± Lane said. ¡°It could take years to beat them. And I¡¯m not saying we should announce a wedding date.¡±


    David thought about it. His mother would be mad at him for not saying anything, but beyond that, he could see no drawbacks of announcing that he and Lane were courting. It would be safer for both of them, and they at least wouldn¡¯t have to lie to a partner.


    ¡°We¡¯ll make quite a couple,¡± he said. ¡°Court¡¯ll love that bit of scandal.¡±


    He saw Lane relax. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said.


    ¡°Should I propose at court?¡±


    He grinned when Lane blushed at the thought. ¡°Five frozen hells, no,¡± she said, but then paused. ¡°All though... There¡¯ll be trouble either way.¡±


    ¡°What sort of trouble?¡±


    ¡°Count deVale has sworn to challenge anyone to a duel who dares to court me,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°He decided I¡¯m his, no matter how I feel about that. And Wardshire is big enough that plenty of other lords have just been waiting for me to drop the whole mourning charade.¡±


    ¡°Most of them higher-born than me, I take it.¡±


    ¡°Some,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Oh well,¡± David shrugged. ¡°Do it like that girl from the myth ¨C can¡¯t remember her name. The one who declared she¡¯d only marry a man who could beat her on a hunt or something like that.¡±


    ¡°Atalante? She challenged all her suitors to a footrace.¡±


    ¡°Well, then you¡¯d have to marry Nathan,¡± David grinned. ¡°Stick with a hunt, and keep ¡®em coming.¡±


    ¡°Right you are,¡± Lane laughed. ¡°That might actually be fun,¡± she admitted, then grinned at him. ¡°What if you can¡¯t beat me? Atalante killed all the suitors who lost to her.¡±


    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to try really hard then,¡± David replied.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Lane looked away. Most men she knew would never have even entertained the idea that a woman might beat them. ¡°You¡¯ll not expect me to stay at home, will you?¡± she still asked, softer.


    To her relief, David rolled his eyes at that question. ¡°You really think I¡¯m that kind of guy?¡±


    ¡°Most men seem to be,¡± Lane pointed out. DeVale certainly seemed to think that he needed to save her from her wild adventures before she got herself killed.


    ¡°I¡¯m not all that eager to continue the hunt for living werewolves on my own.¡±


    ¡°What about your family?¡± Lane asked, surprised by that statement.


    David sighed. ¡°Father won¡¯t go back on the job as long as there¡¯s even a chance he¡¯ll kill someone innocent. The situation with Greg shook him pretty hard. And Andrew was getting ready to quit even before it all went to hell, I¡¯m not taking him now, where everything is even more dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but my life you¡¯re willing to risk?¡± Lane asked, half-joking.


    ¡°You¡¯re not quitting,¡± David said calmly. ¡°You¡¯re like me. You¡¯ve got nowhere to go but out there. So we might as well go together.¡±


    Lane had nothing to say to that. David was right, of course. ¡°We do make quite a pair,¡± she muttered.


    But if she had to marry ¨C if she had to spend the rest of her life at a man¡¯s side, then the life David had just described was one she could live with. Even be happy with.


    David escorted Lane all the way to her hotel, even though it meant riding past his parent¡¯s house and then going back. His father and Andrew were quite surprised to see him, but happy, too. The family had never been this spread out before.


    David spent the next few days getting ready for his appearance at court. He and Lane had agreed on a specific date: Three days from now, Duke Desmarais would host the annual ¡°Flower Dance¡±. It was mostly a debutantes¡¯ ball ¨C earlier in the day, those young ladies of noble birth who didn¡¯t make the travel to the imperial court of the Roi Solei at Rambouillet were presented to the viceroy. As Loegrion was a rather unimportant colony, each year only a scarce handful of girls with powerful sponsors were invited to present themselves to the Roi Solei, and all others instead attended the viceroy¡¯s ball. With the growing nationalism amongst the Loegrion nobility, the Flower Dance had grown in importance, too ¨C several families didn¡¯t even try to present their sons and daughters in Rambouillet.


    David and Lane had agreed on the Flower Ball because it was a purely social event, where their announcement hopefully wouldn¡¯t get in the way of any politics. And Lane as a young noble widow and David as an eligible heir and bachelor were both invited anyway.


    So David spent a day picking new clothes. Like his mother had suggested, Thoko¡¯s mother Yamikani had already freshly braided his hair right before he¡¯d left Courtenay ¨C close to the scalp, a practical and elegant style. Yamikani really was very good.


    He spent another half day composing a note to his mother, too, to let her know what he was about to do. It was harder to put in writing than it should have been, but knowing that the Church was reading his mail made him second-guess every word.


    ¡°Did we miss something?¡± his father asked at dinner after the first new suits were delivered.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to talk some sense into George Louis,¡± David said and explained about Nathan¡¯s letter. ¡°Also, I¡¯ll probably propose to Lane.¡±


    Andrew inhaled his wine at that, while Bram just raised his eyebrows.


    ¡°Now I feel like I¡¯ve missed a lot,¡± his father said dryly.


    David shrugged. ¡°The plan is not actually to marry,¡± he said, and explained the charges that George Louis might bring to bear against Lane.


    Andrew frowned at him. Unlike their parents, he knew that Nathan hadn¡¯t called George Louis his ex-lover in jest.


    ¡°What if you can¡¯t back out again later?¡± their father asked. ¡°I¡¯m not saying I¡¯m against such an arrangement. But if it¡¯s not something you actually want...¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be safer,¡± David said, and took a deep breath. ¡°For both of us. We don¡¯t know how the future will turn out. Also, Lane and I are friends. And we won¡¯t have to lie at each other.¡±


    His father was quiet for a long time after that. Finally, he poured himself more wine, and said: ¡°You never mentioned.¡±


    ¡°What was there to say?¡± David gave back.


    ¡°You knew?¡± Bram asked, looking at Andrew. ¡°You don¡¯t look surprised.¡±


    ¡°Nathan told me,¡± Andrew said, shrugging.


    ¡°And Nathan knew how?¡± Bram wanted to know. ¡°And how long?¡±


    David hated this whole conversation, but he pushed on anyway. ¡°Nathan has known since he was ten because he has loved being a pain in my arse since he was old enough to walk. Saw me kiss George Louis once. Greg was with him, but I suppose he was too young to understand or remember. They both thought it was terribly funny and told Andrew, who luckily was old enough to make sure they didn¡¯t scream it out in front of the rest of the court.¡±


    ¡°Does Imani know?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know,¡± David sighed. ¡°She¡¯s said some things that made me wonder.¡±


    ¡°But you never talked to her either?¡±


    ¡°There was nothing to talk about,¡± David repeated.


    Bram didn¡¯t look convinced, of course.


    ¡°First Greg, now you,¡± he said softly. ¡°I just wish I knew where I went wrong, that neither of you felt they could talk to me.¡±


    ¡°I knew I could talk to you, Dad,¡± David said, without looking at him. ¡°I just don¡¯t want to talk about this.¡±


    Bram looked at Andrew, who smiled wryly. ¡°He told me, when I turned eighteen, that I should consider myself heir to the name and responsible for carrying on the line. That¡¯s about the most he ever said to me about the topic, in case you are wondering.¡± He pointed his fork at David. ¡°You¡¯ll be a count.¡±


    ¡°Not in my own right.¡±


    ¡°Your kids would be, though.¡±


    ¡°Not going to have kids,¡± David gave back, more sharply than he had intended. ¡°Yours could be,¡± he added, calmer. ¡°I think Lane would be okay with that.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Andrew muttered, and to David¡¯s relief, both he and Bram dropped the topic.

 Chapter 30

    David had to admit, he was a little nervous when he entered the great hall of Deva Castle with his father and Andrew. Like every year, the whole palace was decked out in flowers, white, yellow, and light pink roses, matching the dresses of the debutants. The young ladies strolled around, glancing over the tops of their fans at the bachelors present, with their mothers or other chaperones watching their every move. From up the banister, though, David noticed a difference to the Flower Dances he remembered: This time, there appeared to be a lot more fathers present than in his memory, and other older male nobles, too. And even though this wasn¡¯t a political gathering, they drifted towards either one of two camps. Duke George Louis stood at the end of the room, Duke Desmarais more in the middle.


    ¡°There¡¯s deLande,¡± Bram said, nodding down towards the floor.


    Lane wore emerald green. Since she wasn¡¯t actually a debutant, she was allowed to pick her own colour, and David had to admit, she had chosen well.


    ¡°Time to get on with the show,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯ll be back.¡±


    He had hoped that his father and Andrew would stay behind, but the two followed him down the huge stairs that led onto the main floor of the hall.


    ¡°Looks like you might be too late,¡± Andrew muttered.


    Just as they approached Lane, Count deVale got down to one knee, causing a series of squeals all around.


    David grinned and pushed forward against the people who tried to give deVale space until he and Andrew had a front-row view.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Andrew whispered.


    ¡°Listen.¡±


    ¡°My dear Count deVale,¡± Lane was just saying, loud enough that her words carried. ¡°You flatter me, but I cannot accept this proposal just yet. Many fine lords have tried to woo me since my poor Maxence has died, and I have to apologize to them for not giving them a clear answer sooner. But the truth of the matter is, a husband should be master and protector of his wife. And thus I have decided to accept courtship only from a man who can best me on the hunting grounds.¡±


    Andrew didn¡¯t quite manage to suppress a laugh, which came out as a snort. It was drowned out by the excited exclamations of the ladies surrounding them.


    DeVale hurried to get up again. It was clear that he was about to reassure Lane ¨C and the rest of the mostly female onlookers ¨C of his qualities as lord and protector, but then he spotted David. There was a moment, half a second maybe, where David thought the Count would see reason, and try his luck with one of the many hopeful girls around them. But then deVale squared his shoulders and pushed out what little chin he possessed.


    ¡°I accept this challenge,¡± he declared, looking from Lane to the crowd.


    Then he turned on his heel, closing in on David. ¡°And I challenge you to fight me like a man afterwards, in a fair duel, Lord Feleke,¡± he added in a lower voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to it, my Lord,¡± David said, and bowed slightly, just to irk him a little more. He stepped forward and bowed much deeper to Lane. He was about to say something but didn¡¯t get the chance. As Lane had predicted, there were more takers.


    ¡°My Lady,¡± said the son of another Count breathlessly. ¡°What are we hunting, my Lady?¡±


    Lane smiled. ¡°I shall talk to the gamekeeper of the estate,¡± she said, playing with her fan. ¡°Such high-born lords call for a worthy prey. A bear, perhaps, or a white stag...¡± She trailed off artfully, smiling at the crowd. ¡°Yes, let me talk to the gamekeeper. I will be sure to let you know before the night is out.¡±


    ¡°Think you can beat her?¡± Andrew asked when Lane retired to have the challenge organized.


    David smirked. ¡°It¡¯s certainly going to be interesting,¡± he said. He honestly wasn¡¯t sure who of them was the better hunter. Although, since Lane had been the one who suggested the whole affair, he suspected she would let him win, just this once.


    A lot of people were staring at him. Unsurprisingly. Lane was, technically, miles above his rank, young and pretty. If it weren¡¯t for the air of misfortune that surrounded her, there would probably be a lot more men trying to win her favour.


    He could hear someone complaining how the contest was obviously already slanted in his favour, and another woman loudly pointed out that they had been out hunting and sleeping in the rough for months together.


    ¡°Oh, the scandal of it all,¡± Andrew said, amused.


    ¡°Certainly enlivens the ball,¡± Bram said, walking up to them.


    As the music started to play, a friend of deVale¡¯s approached them, no doubt to hear more about the relationship between them. Other would-be suitors joined them to suss out the competition, or to declare themselves.


    David got challenged to two more duels before suddenly, Duke George Louis stood right next to him. ¡°Amazing, that you of all people would drive the werewolves from everybody¡¯s minds,¡± he said. ¡°She¡¯s quite a catch, though, I have to say.¡±


    ¡°Care to join the challenge?¡± David asked.


    George huffed. ¡°Thanks, but no thanks. You¡¯ve knocked me out of the saddle and into the mud in fair contests plenty of times, I¡¯m not going to try and beat you in your very own game. You are still hunting, are you not?¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± David said, without looking at the duke.


    ¡°Or perhaps your skills are not as finely honed as they used to be? I¡¯ve received no werewolves from you yet.¡±


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    ¡°That¡¯s hardly my fault,¡± David said. ¡°It¡¯s a free market now. Don¡¯t blame me if Duke Desmarais makes the better offer.¡±


    ¡°A sell-sword, are you now? How very disappointing.¡±


    ¡°I suppose it takes one to know one,¡± David said. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me now, I¡¯ll go and have a look at the buffet.¡±


    He left the duke standing there and felt dozens of eyes following him. Funny, how fighting for one lady made him a focus of interest of all the others.


    Lane returned about an hour later and was announced by the heralds, who probably thought that this whole challenge was excellent entertainment.


    ¡°We are most lucky,¡± Lane told the group of contenders, and the rest of the hall, with a wide, innocent smile. ¡°A lynx has been sighted within the royal grounds, worthy prey for such fine hunters. And thus I promise to court the man who brings me the pelt ¨C unless of course, I catch it first. Beware though, if you consider cheating: The gamekeeper tells me there is something special about this lynx, something that will tell him right away if it¡¯s the right pelt. And I¡¯m not going to tell you what it is.¡±


    She clasped her hands. ¡°We shall all start together at sunrise tomorrow. Duke George Louis has kindly offered to give the starting signal, and Viceroy Desmarais, as lord of these forests, will judge the winner.¡±


    ¡°Stop grinning like that,¡± Andrew muttered next to him, and David made an effort. A lynx, possibly the most secluded and skittish prey she could have chosen. And she hadn¡¯t even said which part of the huge royal forests they should be looking at.


    The heralds weren¡¯t the only ones who thought the whole challenge entertaining. The next day, there were nearly a hundred spectators, despite the early hour. Some of them looked like they hadn¡¯t been to bed after the ball at all. The seven hopeful lords though, who started in the challenge aside from David and Lane, all appeared to be well-rested.


    George Louis fired a single pistol shot, and the seven raced forward. David followed a little more sedately. Lane moved last, giving them all a head start.


    David could only shake his head about the way the other men were crashing through the underbrush. He walked after them in an unhurried pace, as he had a fairly exact idea where he needed to go: the gamekeepers kept a pack of common wolves in these forests, to the amusement of the Viceroy and his peers. Since wolves would attack and even eat lynxes, it was unlikely that he would find the prey in this part of the forest. His chances were much better towards higher ground. The lynx had probably roamed into the royal forests from the mountains.


    The forests were large enough that soon, he saw and heard no trace of his competitors, and he quickly fell back into the rhythm of the hunt. He did miss his brothers a little, Nathan¡¯s quick wits and even Andrew¡¯s complaints about the weather ¨C it had started raining almost as soon as they started ¨C or his father, always moving in sync with him. Lane, too, and her sharp eyes. It was a little surprising how fast he had gotten used to her company.


    He wondered how the other men were doing when he made camp for the night. He and Lane hadn¡¯t talked about what they would do if one of them got lucky and found the prey before either of them did. The thought made him restless, and after a few short hours, he was back on the hunt.


    At nightfall, he had a first glimpse of the lynx. He could see right away what made the pelt stand out: it had almost none of the usual black stripes and spots.


    Everything after that was routine: aiming, shooting, collecting the pelt, then leaving the spot as fast as possible, before the carcass drew in the Rot.


    Duke Desmarais was still up when David returned, even though it was past midnight. He grinned at him and congratulated him, and promised to have word sent to Lane.


    David had meant to go home and catch a few hours of sleep in a proper bed after presenting the pelt, but before he could leave Deva Castle, a servant stopped him. ¡°Duke George Louis wishes to see you right away, your lordship.¡±


    David considered refusing, but then he just sighed.


    ¡°Lead the way,¡± he said.


    As if he didn¡¯t remember where George¡¯s quarters were.


    ¡°Ah, the fragrant smell of blood,¡± the duke greeted him when David entered his private chambers. ¡°Please, sit. Your hunt was successful, I take it?¡± He was lounging on the sofa, very obviously wearing nothing but a nightgown.


    David remained standing. ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked.


    ¡°That is a very long list,¡± George said, eyeing him pointedly.


    David sighed. ¡°In that case, you can put it down in writing, and I shall return tomorrow to pick it up.¡±


    He turned to leave, mostly to see how George would react.


    ¡°Stay,¡± the duke ordered, the playfulness leaving his voice. ¡°And sit down. You lied to me.¡±


    ¡°That does seem to be the basis of most of our conversations,¡± David said calmly and remained standing.


    ¡°I talked to Duke Clement. He pays you no more than I do. Still, he received several werewolves from you.¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°I never said it¡¯s me you need to pay more, George. There¡¯s a demand for werewolves now. They go to the highest bidder, even if the highest bid only includes safety, a hot meal every day, and a dry place to sleep. A dry place that isn¡¯t a prison cell.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you could convince them.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± David replied. ¡°And if I could, I wouldn¡¯t do it. They¡¯re no animals. They¡¯ve got a mind of their own and powers we can¡¯t match. I can kill them, yes. But that¡¯s not going to solve anyone¡¯s problems.¡±


    ¡°Is that why your youngest brother ran after the navvies, even though it was agreed that he would carry messages for me?¡±


    ¡°Greg is personally loyal to one of your crews. They¡¯re his friends,¡± David said, emphasizing the name. ¡°Otherwise he would have stayed at Courtenay.¡±


    ¡°I was talking about Nathan. You still consider Greg your brother?¡±


    ¡°Of course I still consider him my brother. The same way I considered Clarence and Lester my friends.¡±


    There was a long, long silence.


    ¡°If that was all you needed to know, I¡¯ll go home now.¡±


    ¡°I already said I was sorry,¡± George huffed. ¡°But if it helps, I¡¯ll say it again.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re dead, You Highness,¡± David hissed. ¡°¡¯Sorry¡¯ doesn¡¯t even begin to help with that. You watched as they were stoned to death, and you expect a ¡®sorry¡¯ to make that okay? To make me return to your bed and be a good little plaything? So you can have me stoned, too, once you get bored of me? How stupid do you think I am?¡±


    ¡°Smarter than that,¡± George Louis drawled. ¡°I could never turn you over to the Inquisition, or you¡¯d ensure with your dying breath that I¡¯d die, too.¡±


    ¡°You kicked Bishop Boyen out of Eoforwic and lived to tell the tale. I doubt that my testimony could harm you now.¡±


    ¡°And yet, here you are. In my bedroom.¡±


    ¡°Not much longer, unless you start telling me what you¡¯re after.¡±


    ¡°But you already said it: I¡¯m after you. I want you back in my bed before marriage makes you old and fat and boring. The question isn¡¯t what I¡¯m after, the question is, what you want enough to forget what happened to Lester and Clarence.¡±


    ¡°Good luck with that,¡± David said, and turned. He could hear George Louis get up behind himself and lengthened his strides, slipping outside and smashing the door right in the duke¡¯s face.


    ¡°David!¡± he heard George call after him as he marched down the hallway, but even George Louis didn¡¯t try to follow him through the castle in nothing but a nightgown.


    The problem was, David mused while he did his best to scrub off the blood and mud, that he did want what George Louis was offering: What they used to have. Asides from an hour or two at a bathhouse or a bordello with a young man with more or less convincing acting skills, he had been alone for almost ten years now. He missed how easy things had been with George Louis, how safe he had felt, thinking that George¡¯s rank would protect him, too. How naive he had been.


    He seriously doubted that he could trust George Louis now, no matter what the duke did say or offer. And even a few nights of really good sex weren¡¯t worth risking his own life and putting the rest of the family in even more danger.


    He glared at his own reflection, as he reminded himself of that last bit.

 Chapter 31

    Late the next morning, David took a proper bath, washing away the last of the grime, and arming himself before returning to Deva Castle to see if deVale really wanted to duel him. He wasn¡¯t worried about which weapon the Count might choose. He would put some holes into the idiot one way or another.


    Luckily, deVale hadn¡¯t even returned from the forest yet, so he couldn¡¯t complain when David officially presented the still slightly bloody pelt to Lane and Duke Desmarais. He did so on the raised stage in the great hall, where the viceroy¡¯s throne stood, and people had a clear view of them. Once again, a crowd of nobles had gathered, and today, David also spotted several bishops in their blood-red regalia.


    Lane smiled at him in obvious relief, when David handed her the pelt with a bow and declared that she was going to have it properly preserved.


    Three other suitors, who had already returned, watched the procedure grumbling, but neither of them looked eager to get into a fight about it. They retreated quickly and quietly back into the crowd.


    David had expected the gathering to dissolve quickly, now that the challenge was over. After all, today was the day of the summer solstice. There were services to attend and rites to go through, sermons to be held in the case of the bishops. And the big celebration of the night wasn¡¯t starting for a few more hours.


    But people stayed, forming small groups as if they were expecting something else to happen. Conversations were suspiciously quiet.


    David stepped down from the stage. Whatever else was going on, he didn¡¯t want to get in the way. Lane followed him. She, too, looked around in confusion, and they drifted over to the side of the hall without even talking about it. They stopped when they had nearly reached the wall. There were additional guards in the colours of Desmarais positioned at all the doors in sight.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Lane muttered.


    But before David could say anything, a new voice interrupted: ¡°Congratulations,¡± said High Inquisitor d¡¯Evier, stepping very close. ¡°I take it that this makes the engagement official?¡±


    ¡°We thank you very much, your Excellency,¡± David said since he couldn¡¯t think of anything better.


    D¡¯Evier patted the pelt, which Lane was still carrying. ¡°I see that your skills are still sharp, young lord. Yet you seem to bring most of your prey back alive, these days.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± David said, and was a little bit proud that his voice didn¡¯t waver. ¡°As His Highness commanded of us.¡±


    ¡°Which one?¡± d¡¯Evier asked.


    ¡°Both of them, Lord Inquisitor. But it¡¯s the order of the viceroy that we cannot refuse.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the High Inquisitor said softly. ¡°No, you clearly cannot, I see that.¡± He looked back and forth between them. ¡°It¡¯s certainly prudent of you to concentrate on more private matters in times like these,¡± he said. ¡°Terrible accidents can happen on a werewolf hunt, especially with the Rot moving about so much. I do wish you happiness together. Long happiness.¡±


    Lane curtsied and David bowed, and they didn¡¯t say a word until the Inquisitor was way out of sight again. He wasn¡¯t particularly tall, with an unremarkable face and brown hair, cut like a monk¡¯s. People still backed out of his way quickly. David had no idea how he had snuck up on them.


    ¡°Should we warn Desmarais?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m very certain he knows,¡± David said.


    They had all known this moment would come.


    Also, it was too late to warn Desmarais. The High Inquisitor had reached the stage, where Desmarais still stood, now with Duke George Louis at his side. The whole court reacted to the sight: The more curious nobles were moving closer, the more careful ones were backing away.


    David couldn¡¯t hear what d¡¯Evier said.


    ¡°We will cower before Mithras,¡± Duke Desmarais answered the High Inquisitor, raising his voice enough for it to fill the hall. ¡°But we will no longer cower before the Rot. A werewolf draws its powers from moonlight, which science has proven to be nothing more than reflected sunlight, thus showing that Mithras is smiling on us even when we cannot see His face. The Rot, on the other hand, is born of corruption and everything else that is vile, and that you will use it to threaten every living soul in this land just shows how rotten the Church has gotten, too!¡±


    Desmarais was yelling at the end.


    Duke George Louis cut in smoothly, completely ignoring the High Inquisitor, and instead speaking to the room at large: ¡°I have spoken to several werewolves, I have witnessed, with my own two eyes, their ability to fight the Rot. If you want to stand by idly while the White Torrent turns into the same swamp as the Savre, if the fate of newborns and their mothers means nothing to you, if you truly believe that famine and pestilence will somehow pass your lands over, then, by all means, stand with this charlatan who calls himself a man of Mithras.


    But if you see Loegrion as your home, by choice or by birth, and if you care for this home, then I say: Let us cleanse this home! Let us drive out the Rot, and then let us reap the fruits of this most bountiful of lands together!


    Yes, it will take the aide of werewolves, but that is nothing to be afraid of. Werewolves can be made safe: We can catch them, and talk to them, and either they prove to be reasonable, or a sharp axe will put them out of their misery. And those who do prove to be reasonable, why should we not put them to work?


    Many of them have already proven themselves reliable in building the railways around Eoforwic, they are now crucial in pushing the line up to Mannin. Soon, every major city in Loegrion, no matter where, will be connected by a line. All the way to the west coast. For food and shelter and a shirt on their back will they protect your lands, your homes, families, and livestock from the Rot. Even the seed on your fields will only be stolen by birds.¡±


    Duke George Louis paused for the susurrus all around.


    ¡°That is the future we offer,¡± he called even louder. ¡°We will connect the cities and protect our villages. We will have the rivers and forests cleansed, and we will open up all the land between Sheaf and the west coast. We will not rest until the Rot is nothing more than a bad memory.¡±


    Silence fell across the big reception hall of the castle. People didn¡¯t move, the nobles were just glancing at each other. David could feel those closest stare at him.


    He was surprised, and yet somehow not, when it was Count deVale who pushed forwards from the very back of the crowd, looking harried and tired and dirty, obviously just back from his luckless hunt. He carried a dead fox over his shoulder, but his steps, when he climbed the stage, were light and even. He bowed courtly to the two dukes and then planted his feet like he was never going to move again.


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    A general shuffle started. David and Lane let themselves be pushed closer to the stage. They hardly had to move, the general drift went that way anyway. Very few people tried to get closer to the group of red robes on the other side of the room. Some hovered in the middle, still undecided. David thought he could even see a bishop amongst them.


    ¡°High Inquisitor d¡¯Evier, you and your ilk are not welcome here any longer!¡± Duke Desmarais yelled over the noise.


    ¡°And we are all dead,¡± someone muttered right next to David, almost at the same moment as d¡¯Evier threatened: ¡°You will regret this! All of Deva will regret this, as a warning to the rest of the Empire!¡±


    He stomped off the stage.


    ¡°Should have brought Lee,¡± David muttered.


    ¡°Stop him!¡± someone else yelled. ¡°Before he dooms us all!¡±


    ¡°Let him go,¡± Desmarais answered firmly. ¡°In fact, let us have a look at his parlour tricks.¡±


    He led the way, not straight outside but up onto the wide terrace, from which they could oversee the parade-grounds in front of the palace. This time, David did push to the front. He wanted to see what was going on. Clearly, Desmarais had a plan.


    ¡°There,¡± Lane hissed right next to him and pointed. ¡°I thought she¡¯s protecting the railway!¡±


    There was woman moving down on the grounds, and a man, too. They both walked ¨C stalked ¨C up and down the wide open space, avoiding each other. A whole regiment of guards stood at the far side of the parade-grounds.


    Nobody bothered Lord d¡¯Evier when he stormed outside and into the middle of the space with his entourage.


    ¡°Behold!¡± he screamed. ¡°The might of your God!¡±


    He waved imperiously, and a younger priest stepped forward. D¡¯Evier smashed a vial on the ground, and something happened to the stones of the yard. David couldn¡¯t tell if it was magic or alchemy ¨C probably magic. A moment later the stones were gone, and d¡¯Evier grabbed the young priest by the hair, pushing him to his knees over the hole in the stones and cutting his throat.


    ¡°You think you are safe inside your city walls!¡± d¡¯Evier screamed. ¡°You think these monsters will save you? Mithras alone can bring you salvation!¡±


    David had to swallow hard against the bile rising in his throat, and his vision greyed out for a few seconds. He could still hear though, people all around gagging, throwing up, and even collapsing. By the time he could see at least schemes again, blinking hard and clinging to the banister for support, down in the yard, the Rot was raising. Cobblestones, and dirt, and the rose bushes, and the dead body of the priest were all moving. David tried to watch, but he couldn¡¯t look at it directly. They formed something, though, something much, much bigger than the thing that had broken Greg¡¯s shoulder blade.


    David¡¯s heart was beating violently, and his knees were buckling under him. His skull felt like it was about to crack wide open. Just as he thought he¡¯d pass out like so many around him, the werewolves transformed. A howl cut through the ringing in his ears, and his vision cleared. His stomach still heaved, but he managed not to throw up when he leaned over the banister to get a better look.


    The two werewolves crashed into the Rot-giant from both flanks, tearing out pieces despite the cobble-stones covering its hull. Then they retreated, fast as the wind, just before it swung two misshapen arms at them. They circled it, just like real wolves would circle a large deer, always keeping out of its reach. Whenever it tried to hit one of them, the other one attacked.


    All around David, those people who could move were panicking, but he stayed, watching transfixed.


    Greg would never have been able to fight this thing. Lee wouldn¡¯t have been able to do it. But these two werewolves did. And they didn¡¯t even seem to struggle.


    A young woman leaned against the balustrade next to Lane. She looked shaken, and from the way she was spitting out, David guessed she had thrown up, but her eyes were glued to the two werewolves.


    The soldiers, whose formation had collapsed when d¡¯Evier had raised the Rot, straightened up, too. The Inquisitor approached their sergeant, who was putting his helmet on again, which he had lost when he¡¯d gone down to his knees. David watched, as d¡¯Evier gesticulated angrily, pointing at the werewolves, but the Inquisitor backed off when several soldiers pointed their long rifles with their silver bayonets at him. David could see his head swing left and right, but slowly it seemed to dawn on d¡¯Evier, that he would find no help or support here. His wretched magic wouldn¡¯t help him, either: The two werewolves were slowly but steadily tearing his giant monster apart.


    And all the important nobles of Loegrion were watching.


    Lord d¡¯Evier, High Inquisitor of Mithras, swayed on the spot like a blade of grass in the wind, looking around wild-eyed. Finally, though, he turned and ran.


    The guards let them go, him and maybe two dozen bishops and nobles. David wondered about that. Clearly, somebody had given them orders, but was this smart? Shouldn¡¯t they try to stop them? Lock them up somewhere, before they ran all the way to Rambouillet, and informed the Roi Solei of what was going on?


    Or maybe it was better this way? The Roi Solei was sure to find out anyway, and locking up a mage-priest as d¡¯Evier was nearly impossible. If he ran to Rambouillet, at least he wouldn¡¯t cause trouble on Loegrian soil.


    Maybe half an hour later, what was left of the Rot-giant collapsed. The soldiers down in the yard cheered. They had held up better than the nobles up at the terrace. Maybe it was the helmets. David just managed a smile and focused on deep, even breaths. The pressure on his skull had finally lifted, but his stomach took longer to calm down.


    The werewolves stared at the soldiers, then hunkered down, as far away from each other as possible.


    ¡°I¡¯m going down there,¡± Lane said, voice as weak as David felt, but she straightened up and crossed the terrace with long strides. David had to hurry to follow her, as did the young girl who had watched with them.


    Lane whistled, as soon as she stepped through the door. Morgulon jumped to her feet at the signal and trotted over. She limped on a front paw but greeted Lane excitedly. At the sight, Lane felt instantly better, and she couldn¡¯t have said whether that was magic or just relief.


    ¡°Slowly,¡± Lane muttered when Morgulon almost knocked her over. ¡°We¡¯re being watched. Let¡¯s not scare them.¡±


    She stroked the fur in Morgulon¡¯s neck, massaged one of the ears. The other one was injured, torn and bleeding.


    ¡°Think we can find a doctor who¡¯ll stitch that?¡± Lane asked David.


    ¡°We can try,¡± David said.


    Others had reached them, nobles, and guards and servants.


    Morgulon dropped down onto the ground again, only the head raised so that Lane could continue to scratch behind her ears.


    Theresa came closer slowly, acting like she had never seen Morgulon before, clasping her hands in excitement and keeping a couple of yards of distance.


    ¡°Magnificent!¡± she gasped, maybe a little too theatrical, before adding: ¡°May I step closer?¡±


    Lane had trouble not roll her eyes at the show, but Theresa was right, of course. Better if they established a set of etiquette straight away.


    ¡°A step, yes, don¡¯t crowd her,¡± Lane said loudly. ¡°She¡¯s not used to this many people.¡±


    David looked back and forth between her and Theresa, and then at Morgulon. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± he said.


    Lane watched as he approached the other werewolf. She could see him ask something, but there were too many people talking all-around to understand. After a few seconds, the werewolf shook his head. On David¡¯s second question, he nodded.


    David turned towards one of the servants, who were staring just like everybody else. The young man dashed off a moment later.


    ¡°He wants some clothes,¡± David said when he returned. ¡°Does Morgulon need anything? I saw her limp.¡±


    Lane kneeled down. Her dress was already ruined anyway, somebody had thrown up onto her skirts. ¡°Let me see,¡± she said because Morgulon pulled her front paw away from her.


    Morgulon whined but allowed her to run a hand over the paw and front leg. There were countless new cuts and scrapes, and one of the bones was...


    ¡°Broken, yes,¡± Lane said to David. ¡°Should be the palm of her hand in her human form, I think.¡±


    ¡°Do you want clothes, Morgulon?¡± David asked.


    But the she-wolf shook her head.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you are already on the job,¡± Duke George Louis drawled behind them.


    ¡°No worries,¡± David said coolly. ¡°Does Duke Desmarais want to put them up here at Deva Castle, did he say? Otherwise, we can take them home. We need to get her out of here.¡±


    Lane looked around and saw Bram and Andrew push to the front of the still thickening crowd. She had to jump to her feet when Morgulon got up, shaking herself as if to affirm David¡¯s words. The gawkers closest to them tried to back away and were pushed forward again by the late arrivals further back, who were craning their necks, now that they felt it was safe.


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep them close at hand,¡± Duke George Louis replied.


    ¡°All right,¡± David said, and turned away from the duke as if dismissing his presence. ¡°Park, or a room of her own?¡±


    ¡°Park,¡± Lane gave back. ¡°Possibly the forest. I¡¯ll take her, you look after the other?¡±


    David nodded. Lane took half a step forward. Morgulon followed, and people tried to make way for them, but it took forever until they had made enough room that they could actually move. So Morgulon stopped and gave a sharp bark.


    After that, people literally fell over each other to give them room.

 Chapter 32

    David frowned when he reached the other werewolf again. The guy stood in a bubble of nervous onlookers, hackles raised and growling if they got too close. Behind him, wedged into the wall of people, stood the servant David had sent to fetch clothes.


    David crossed the bubble, ignored the growling, and took the clothes out of the servant¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Do you want to get dressed or not?¡± he asked, turning to the werewolf. ¡°Then come with me. Unless you want to show your naked hide to all these people?¡±


    The werewolf followed, just like David had expected. Up the stairs and into the castle they went. David had no doubt that George Louis would have assigned him a servant¡¯s room, or maybe even a dog kennel. When he informed a steward that he was going to put the werewolf up in one of the quarters for visiting nobles from the country, the man stared at him in shock but didn¡¯t dare argue.


    Inside, David draped the clothes over the back of a chair, and asked: ¡°Want me to wait outside? Or I can just leave,¡± he added when the werewolf hesitated. ¡°Come back in an hour?¡±


    That earned quite a vigorous headshake.


    ¡°Wait outside?¡±


    Shrug.


    ¡°You want me to wait in here?¡±


    Another shrug. The werewolf grabbed the clothes gingerly with his teeth and moved behind one of the high backed armchairs. Unlike Greg, who staggered around a lot while changing shape, this guy sort of seemed to flow together much faster and smoother.


    ¡°Gah,¡± he muttered, in a thick, nasal voice. ¡°Bloody hell. Remember me?¡±


    David frowned. In his human shape, the werewolf had dirty blond hair on the right, and darker brown hair left of his face. His eyes were brown and shaped like a wolf''s, with no white showing, and his skin was sun-tanned rather than naturally darker. The guy''s nose looked swollen like it had been broken in the fight, which didn¡¯t make it easier to recognize him.


    ¡°Fenn¡¯s the name,¡± the werewolf said. ¡°Did a few jobs with your father. You are David Feleke, aren¡¯t you? Kid who started hunting on his own?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said slowly. ¡°I remember you. I just thought you were dead.¡±


    ¡°Faked it,¡± Fenn said. ¡°Had a run-in with the Morgulon herself, thought I could be the one to cash in the reward. She disagreed.¡±


    He struggled with the pants the servant had brought, which were way too big and wouldn¡¯t stay up. ¡°Great,¡± he muttered, and used the shirt¡¯s arms like a belt, before shrugging into the simple vest. He sighed but apparently decided this was good enough. ¡°Any chance they got a doctor who¡¯d look at my nose?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I know where the palace-doctor has his rooms,¡± David said. ¡°We can go and have a try, but I can¡¯t promise anything.¡±


    Fenn nodded and grimaced, carefully touching his nose, then pulling away again with a wince. ¡°Can we go right now?¡± he asked. ¡°Cobblestone to the face, no fun, I say.¡±


    David nodded, and moved to the door. The servants darted out of their way and stared at them around corners. A noble saw them, screamed, and ran away.


    ¡°You¡¯d think I was the one who raised the Rot,¡± Fenn muttered. ¡°Not the one who killed it.¡±


    ¡°Who hired you?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Heard a rumour,¡± Fenn said. ¡°That the wind is changing. Went and found Marianne at Desmarais¡¯s. He first said I should go and protect the Torrent, but before I could leave, he changed his mind and dragged me here. Kept me in a shack behind the stables, warned me not to show myself to anyone just yet. Yesterday, the Morgulon showed up, right before dawn. I suppose that¡¯s why they wanted the fight to happen today. The guards who brought us food said she¡¯s supposed to return to the railway, fast as possible.


    ¡°How does a Feleke end up bodyguarding werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Long story,¡± David said.


    ¡°Your father¡¯s still human, though, is he?¡±


    ¡°Yes, he is,¡± David said. ¡°He¡¯s around, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll meet him.¡±


    Fenn nodded, then reached for his nose again and swore softly.


    The palace physician took one look at them and sent for a ¡°specialist,¡± as he assured them. This specialist turned out to be the veterinarian from Desmarais¡¯s estates, who had already treated Marc and Henry.


    ¡°Making a career of it, huh?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Have to make a living, don¡¯t I? And I am the only trained doctor who¡¯s ever treated a werewolf, ain¡¯t I? They both lived, too.¡±


    ¡°Thought you¡¯re a veterinarian.¡±


    ¡°Classically trained in Lydon, best college there is. I know as much about anatomy as any doctor, both of the wolf and the human shape. And I¡¯m not going to try and bleed you, either.¡±


    ¡°Appreciated,¡± Fenn said, which sounded even drier through his stuffed nose.


    ¡°This¡¯ll hurt,¡± the doctor said cheerfully, and then there was an ugly crunch.


    Fenn swore, and blood trickled down onto his lip.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the doctor said. ¡°I don¡¯t really have anything for the pain for you. Marianne didn¡¯t want to assist me in testing substances.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°I¡¯ll test some alcohol for you,¡± Fenn said. ¡°Or opium, if you¡¯ve got any.¡±


    ¡°Splendid,¡± said the doctor. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    ¡°Did he really treat other werewolves?¡± Fenn asked, as soon as the man was gone.


    ¡°Two kids who got bitten by a mad one, end of Janvier. He was a lot more hesitant back then, but they did both live, so I suppose he stitched them up fine.¡±


    ¡°Times are changing, all right,¡± Fenn muttered.


    David could only hope that it would be a lasting change.


    He left Fenn in the care of the doctor and went back towards the throne room. The summer solstice celebration shouldn¡¯t have started until much later, but Desmarais was true to himself and must have warned the kitchen: A rich buffet was set up in the Grand Galerie, no doubt prepared over hours. Most of the nobles had flocked here. David watched as more and more of them walked in, and not just nobles. The press was gathering, too. The Galerie overlooked the beautiful gardens of the palace rather than the parade grounds where d¡¯Evier had summoned the Rot, and it was big enough for a couple of hundred people to stroll about comfortably. Most importantly, the two dukes had retreated to the Salon Levant, the Sunrise Salon, situated at the eastern end of the gallery. The screens that usually separated it from the Galerie had been fully opened so that the two were visible to everyone.


    Both dukes had prepared for this perfectly: Each one of them had a werewolf-cub with them. At Duke Desmarais¡¯s feet lay Henry, to David¡¯s surprise and concern. Andrew hadn¡¯t mentioned this. And had it been four full moons already?


    David didn¡¯t recognize the werewolf at the side of George Louis, also a puppy, but older than Henry, with reddish-brown fur. A girl.


    Both of them, no doubt, had been chosen for that special mixture of cuteness and formidability only a werewolf-cub could exude. David could only hope that they had been chosen well. Henry was six, for Sun¡¯s sake. Even if he wasn¡¯t mad, he could only be expected to have as much emotional control as any other six-year-old. In an entirely strange place. Without his mother.


    Great.


    The two dukes were talking amiably enough amongst each other, yet David could feel the tension in the air between them. Desmarais had never said whether or not he wanted the crown, but it was pretty clear that several of the Valoisian nobles would support his claim, should he make it. No doubt, he would have conditions tied to his renunciation of the crown. If he was even willing to relinquish it at all.


    When David stepped closer to the empty space the other nobles had respectfully left around the open salon, Henry jumped to his feet to greet him. He had been given a large bone, with a good piece of meat left, and David managed to head him off just in time before the cub got blood and bone marrow all over him, or the ladies on his right and left.


    Henry wagged his tail like an overexcited dog, and David could hear several people go, ¡°aww,¡± at the sight.


    ¡°We can play later, Henry, okay?¡± David said, which caused even more tail wagging. David patted his head, and the cub returned to his bone.


    Even George Louis noted: ¡°You have quite a way with them. Despite the fact that you bear arms against them.¡±


    David shrugged, which made the crossbow at his back jump. ¡°They know who this is for.¡±


    Strictly speaking, he had brought the crossbow in the morning, which felt like ages ago, in case deVale wanted to duel him. Bringing the silver bolts had just been habit.


    He stood in the empty half-circle a little awkwardly. He hadn¡¯t meant to actually talk to the dukes, had only wanted to listen in. After a second, he bowed to them. ¡°If Your Highnesses will excuse me? I need to check on the last werewolf.¡±


    ¡°Do your duty,¡± George Louis said, and they waved him off. David retreated, a little annoyed. Now he¡¯d have to go all the way down into the park, make it at least look like he was checking on Morgulon.


    Luckily, he ran into Fenn just outside of the gallery. The werewolf had found a cord somewhere, which he wore as a belt, but hadn¡¯t put the shirt on, anyway. David escorted him out onto the Grand Galerie. People barely backed away from them, though several ladies raised their fans to hide their shocked faces. David wasn¡¯t sure if it was the fact that Fenn was a werewolf or his bare chest.


    Fenn headed straight for the buffet, and David followed him.


    ¡°What a circus,¡± Fenn complained, once he had a full plate. ¡°Didn¡¯t nobody teach them that it¡¯s rude to stare at people?¡±


    ¡°You are standing at the Grand Galerie,¡± David pointed out. ¡°This place exists for the sole purpose of staring at people and being noticed oneself.¡±


    Fenn huffed and turned back to his plate.


    ¡°Losing the shirt doesn¡¯t exactly help,¡± David added.


    ¡°I bled on it,¡± Fenn grumbled. ¡°Didn¡¯t want people to think I already ate someone.¡±


    ¡°Probably wise,¡± David agreed. ¡°Though now you might give some poor lady a heart attack with your ¨C animal magnetism.¡±


    Fenn barked a laugh at that.


    ¡°At least the food is good,¡± he muttered, mouth full.


    David stuck to his side. He could see his father not far away, involved in a conversation that quite obviously revolved around Fenn. Fingers were pointed all around them, but so far, nobody dared talk to the werewolf himself.


    Just as David emptied his plate, Lane walked up to them. She had changed and was now wearing a more practical dress and high-necked blouse, foregoing the full petty coats. Instead, she wore a broad leather belt, which accentuated her slender waist much the same, especially with the extra fullness the layered fabric gave to her chest. This was the only acknowledgement of current fashion. The sleeves were practical and closefitting all along the arm, without the big puffs and dropped shoulders all the other ladies wore.


    Lane, too, had a crossbow slung across her back, and on her belt, a small quiver was fixed.


    ¡°Lane deLande,¡± she introduced herself before David got a chance.


    ¡°Countess deLande,¡± Fenn said slowly. ¡°I heard.¡±


    He eyed her carefully, from the hair, tied back tightly, to the crossbow and quiver.


    ¡°We all heard,¡± he added.


    ¡°Heard of what?¡±


    ¡°You dragged the Morgulon out of the mountains. Word travels.¡±


    ¡°I was under the impression that you and Morgulon didn¡¯t like each other?¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Fenn said. ¡°I tried to cut her throat, she bit me, that¡¯s all. Could have killed me, but probably thought turning me would be a more fitting retaliation.¡±


    ¡°And how did you know she left the mountains?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Every living soul between here and Clyde¡¯s Pass knows she moved,¡± Fenn said. ¡°Or would know, if they knew to read the signs. I bet you, they¡¯re losing more mail coaches on their way across the mountains already. Yet, around here, the Rot is retreating.¡±


    He grinned wryly. ¡°Mind you, twenty years from now I¡¯ll have the same effect. Let¡¯s hope I live that long, eh?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope,¡± David said quietly.


    Count deVale crossed the empty floor surrounding them. ¡°You owe me a fair duel, Lord Feleke, for the beautiful lady¡¯s favour,¡± he said, glaring at David, who nodded coolly, and then gracefully bowed to Lane, before looking at Fenn.


    ¡°Also,¡± the count continued, ¡°I would be interested to hear what your price for a werewolf such as this one is.¡±


    He eyed Fenn¡¯s broken nose again. ¡°I take it that this was one of the two we saw fight earlier?¡±


    ¡°This is Fenn O¡¯Brien,¡± David said, emphasising the name. ¡°And I would strongly advise you to think of him as a worker ¨C or perhaps a mercenary. Rather than a slave.¡±


    ¡°We need a pamphlet,¡± Lane sighed a good hour later. ¡°Something we can just hand out, so we don¡¯t have to explain the same thing over and over again. I¡¯m tired of this.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± David said. ¡°But I reckon word will travel fast, don¡¯t you think? Having something printed might be more trouble than it¡¯s worth.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that,¡± Lane said. ¡°Listen. Even in here, with Fenn right there, people are getting it wrong. Just think of what kind of rumours will sprout in the city.¡±


    She was right, unfortunately. Rumours were spreading fast, getting increasingly absurd. Already, some nobles seemed convinced that it was merely a matter of willpower, or that only peasants turned into mad monsters.


    ¡°So you want to write a pamphlet?¡±


    ¡°Unless you want to talk to every newspaper from here to Mannin? We need something well-made, something that looks official. And all the town criers need to read it out, too.¡±


    David nodded glumly. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to father. Maybe he knows someone with a printing press.¡±

 Chapter 33

    Bram¡¯s suggestion was to talk to Mr. Higgins, who was related to a newspaper mogul, so the next day, David rode through the city to pay a visit to his former teacher. As soon as he was out of the quiet street where his father¡¯s house stood, he regretted not taking a cab. He had forgotten how crazy traffic in Deva was. Open carts full of goods and wares mostly pulled by oxen blocked the streets, and got overtaken by the much faster cabs pulled by only one sleek horse. Even slower were the street vendors selling out of their carts, trays, or other burdens. Riders like himself tried to find the quickest path through, and every few minutes the huge tramlines, pulled by a dozen heavy draft horses, or the slightly smaller city buses rumbled by. The very brave travelled on velocipedes, two wheels in line with a sort of frame on which the rider sat astride, the whole contraption moved via pedals, or steam cars, which gave off stinking black smoke. And there were so many, many people everywhere.


    David shook his head. Maybe he really should marry Lane, retire to the country. He felt claustrophobic in the masses of pressing bodies.


    Mr. Higgins lived in the worst part of town ¨C one of the best, Greg would probably have said. The teacher¡¯s generous apartment was located above a pub alongside the Imperial Chauss¨¦e, which was wide enough to hold military parades on the birthday of the Roi Solei, and an unofficial market in the middle any other day. Pubs and caf¨¦s poured their tables and guests onto the wide pavements, and artists showed their works to the masses of pedestrians.


    David tied the reins of his gelding to a post outside the pub, and told the horse: ¡°Wait here for me.¡±


    He had little worry that anyone would manage to steal the gelding as he walked into the building, past the door to the restaurant and up the stairs, where he knocked at the door.


    Mr. Higgins blinked at him in owlish surprise. He looked like David had woken him, despite the fact that it was past ten o¡¯clock.


    Mr. Higgins was a white man of about average height, quite slender, with brown hair and eyes. He was only in his mid-thirties but usually dressed like an elderly professor. Now, with his hair in disarray, he looked like a hung-over student.


    ¡°David?¡± he asked. ¡°David Feleke?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mr. Higgins,¡± David said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for bothering you. Do you have a moment?¡±


    ¡°How is Greg?¡± Mr. Higgins asked back, straightening up a little. ¡°And where is he?¡±


    ¡°He is helping to build the railway line along the Savre,¡± David replied. ¡°Last letter we received, he was fine. Though Nathan did say that Greg missed his lesson in Valoisian grammar.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re in contact?¡±


    ¡°Of course we¡¯re in contact.¡±


    ¡°Nobody bothered to tell me,¡± Mr. Higgins complained, but he opened the door all the way and stepped aside so that David could enter.


    ¡°I want to know exactly what happened to Greg,¡± said Mr. Higgins.


    ¡°How much time do you have?¡± David asked.


    ¡°As much as it takes,¡± Mr. Higgins said. ¡°Tea? Coffee?¡±


    ¡°Coffee would be welcome,¡± David said and looked around a little uncomfortably. Unlike Greg, he had never visited Mr. Higgins at home. It was gloomy inside the main room, the windows covered with heavy curtains, and David needed a moment to get used to the low light. The whole room smelled strongly of old cigar smoke.


    Eventually, he saw three walls lined with bookcases and cabinets, which were filled with volumes in several languages, journals, curiosities from all over the known world, and in one case, a collection of fine china plates decorated in pink roses. The last wall was covered in photographs, several of Greg, as David noted. A very modern camera stood in front of it. The rest of the room was stuffed as full as the walls: Three sofas had been arranged into a sitting group, with more display cases like museums used running around the back. What was inside those was hard to see, because they were covered in more photographs, journals, notebooks, and other pieces of paper, on top of which stood dirty mugs, plates, bottles, ashtrays, and glasses. It looked like the remains of last night¡¯s party, or possibly several nights worth of midnight snacks.


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    The floor, finally, was covered in stacks of even more books, shoes, and for some reason one of the new high-wheeled velocipedes, resting on its side. David had no idea how Mr. Higgins had even got it up the stairs.


    ¡°Have a seat,¡± Mr. Higgins said absentmindedly. ¡°Cigar?¡± he added.


    ¡°No, thanks,¡± David said. ¡°Actually, would you open a window?¡±


    Mr. Higgins sniffed, annoyed, but he did wrap his dressing gown more tightly around himself and pulled one of the curtains back. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, when the sunlight streamed in, before pushing one of the windows sashes open.


    ¡°Now, about Greg?¡± Mr. Higgins asked. ¡°He did get bitten, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said. ¡°I¡¯m sure you followed the news about Duke George Louis and his railway?¡±


    ¡°Are you telling me that Greg was one of the werewolves that allegedly saved Deva Castle yesterday?¡±


    ¡°Not quite. But the people of Eoforwic and Deva do owe their lives to Greg, even if he didn¡¯t defeat the Rot yesterday himself.¡±


    ¡°Explain.¡±


    ¡°Greg made the discovery that a werewolf can fight the Rot. Or rather, he was the first werewolf who was willing to use this to help normal humans.¡±


    Mr. Higgins insisted on hearing the whole story, of course, and even took some notes. When David was finished, he stared into the air for a long time.


    ¡°I knew your brother would go far,¡± he finally said. ¡°But this is nothing I ever expected. A way to fight the Rot, truly fascinating.¡±


    He stared down at his notes, and eventually shook his head. ¡°I promised you tea, didn¡¯t I?¡± he said and got up. ¡°Or would you prefer something stronger?¡±


    ¡°Tea will do,¡± David said, though he really would have preferred coffee.


    ¡°What brings you here, anyway?¡± Mr. Higgins asked, while he fired up the ceramic oven in the corner, and placed a kettle on top.


    ¡°We are looking for someone with a printing press,¡± David explained. ¡°To counter some of the wilder rumours that are going around with some facts. We need something to hand out to people, something that¡¯ll look official. Something people will trust.¡±


    ¡°Those two are often mutually exclusive,¡± Mr. Higgins warned. ¡°But I can help you with that, yes. I would suggest posters, too. How much may this cost?¡±


    ¡°I talked to Duke Desmarais last night, and he¡¯s willing to spend a hundred gold coins, initially.¡±


    ¡°Meaning?¡±


    ¡°He wants us to try in Deva first, and if people accept the pamphlets here, we¡¯ll try the rest of the heartlands.¡±


    ¡°What about further north and west?¡±


    ¡°West, we¡¯ll have to see. North of Eoforwic, well, that¡¯s George Louis¡¯s territory.¡±


    ¡°So one hundred gold coins just for Deva, that¡¯s a generous budget,¡± Mr. Higgins said, like a man talking to himself. ¡°But how to make people believe... Would Greg be willing to talk to someone at Deva University? I could arrange a meeting with Prof. Audenne, chair of zoology. He¡¯s very renowned and regularly speaks at all the important gentlemen¡¯s clubs. He¡¯ll want proof, though.¡±


    ¡°Before risking his reputation,¡± David muttered. ¡°Greg is not available, it¡¯ll take too long to drag him all the way to Deva. We don¡¯t want it to become too public a knowledge either, that he got bitten. It won¡¯t be too hard, though, to find another werewolf who can prove our claims. I¡¯ll talk to Fenn.¡±


    ¡°Fenn being a werewolf or a fellow hunter?¡±


    ¡°Werewolf, but father and he used to hunt together. He¡¯s the most powerful around here.¡±


    ¡°What about this Morgulon?¡±


    ¡°She will go back to the railway, today or tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°I see. Do you think this Fenn would be willing to appear at the university for a lecture?¡±


    ¡°I reckon,¡± David said. ¡°I¡¯ll ask. But it¡¯ll have to be soon, Duke Desmarais wants to send him to protect the well of the White Torrent before the Rot overwhelms it completely.¡±


    ¡°Is there anyone else?¡±


    ¡°I can send a message to my mother,¡± David said. ¡°Lee can do it, I¡¯m very sure he will. It¡¯ll only take him a few days to come to Deva. Or maybe Duke Desmarais will let us take Henry... But he¡¯s a kid, only six years old. And he¡¯s been a werewolf for barely four months...¡±


    ¡°You say that like it¡¯s important.¡±


    ¡°Very much,¡± David said. ¡°We can¡¯t be sure yet that he won¡¯t turn ¨C well, rabid.¡±


    ¡°When can you be sure?¡±


    David ran a hand over his braids, and explained the age-problem, both in regards to a werewolf¡¯s sanity and power.


    Mr. Higgins frowned. ¡°The first thing we need are decent studies,¡± he declared. ¡°We need to have reliable information so that all further decisions can be based on facts rather than superstition. Most importantly, we need to know how many werewolves go mad.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not disagreeing,¡± David said. ¡°But it¡¯ll be hard to organize that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I think we don¡¯t need to worry about that. I¡¯m sure, without the restrictions placed by the Church, there are plenty of men of science who¡¯ll just be chomping at the bit to go out there and do some field studies.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll still be dangerous,¡± David pointed out.


    ¡°Striving for new knowledge is always a little dangerous,¡± Mr. Higgins said airily.


    David sighed inwardly, but let the point slide. Once the first researches got bitten, there was at least a chance that they¡¯d get more werewolves.


    ¡°What exactly do you want on this pamphlet?¡± Mr. Higgins asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s the tricky question,¡± David said and reached into his jacket. ¡°I have written a few different versions, but I¡¯m not sure ¨C how much do you think people need to know?¡±


    They spent the next couple of hours going over what David had already prepared and hashing out the exact text they wanted to publish. Then Mr. Higgins retreated to his bedroom to get dressed properly, and David left. Mr. Higgins promised to contact his friends and acquaintances at the university over the afternoon and join them for dinner at the Feleke townhouse tonight.

 Chapter 34

    ¡°I¡¯ve brought Prof. Audenne,¡± Mr. Higgins announced when David greeted him at the door. ¡°He has plenty of doubts, but is curious to see your proof.¡±


    ¡°Most curious,¡± agreed the man who followed Mr. Higgins. He was so short that David at first could see nothing of him but his black umbrella and the surprisingly workman-like heavy leather shoes. When he folded his umbrella, Prof. Audenne turned out to be an elderly but spry gentleman. His complexion indicated that his family either came from Valoir itself or one of the colonies surrounding the Mer Central. His black hair had receded and mostly faded to grey, while his long nose ended above an impressive moustache that seemed to belong to a taller man. His clothes were well-made but sturdy like the shoes, and he carried a flat leather case.


    Prof. Audenne looked at David¡¯s dinner clothes a little disappointedly. ¡°I was hoping we would take a field trip straight away. It¡¯s going to be a crescent moon tonight, certainly the best part of the month for a first scientific observation?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have plenty of opportunity for such observations,¡± David promised, and they shook hands before he stepped aside to lead the way over to the salon. His father was waiting with Andrew and Lane, and also Fenn and the Morgulon, who didn¡¯t exactly growl at each other ¨C Fenn was in his human form ¨C but tended to stick to opposite sides of the room. Morgulon was visibly uncomfortable indoors and paced up and down one side of the room restlessly. Fenn, apparently subconsciously, kept angling his upper body so that he could always keep sight of her.


    Duke Desmarais sat in the heavy armchair right at the fireplace, Henry at his feet, who was so busy watching the two older werewolves he could barely enjoy the bone one of the servant girls had gifted him.


    When Mr. Higgins and the Professor entered, all heads, human and wolf, turned towards them. The Morgulon stopped her endless wandering. Mr. Higgins froze, but Audenne pushed past him to have a better look, his eyes alight with curiosity. When he pulled a sketch pad out of his pack, the Morgulon started pacing the room again.


    ¡°Prof. Audenne and Mr. Higgins,¡± David introduced the two newcomers. ¡°His Highness, Duke Desmarais, Countess deLande, my father, Baron Feleke, and my brother Andrew. Also the Morgulon, Fenn O¡¯Brien, and Henry.¡±


    Mr. Higgins bowed to Duke Desmarais, and Lane as well.


    The duke waved him off. ¡°Let¡¯s not waste our precious time on formalities,¡± he said. ¡°This will most likely be your only opportunity to observe as fine a collection of werewolves as this. You should use it well.¡±


    This led to the usual avalanche of questions, which David, Lane, Bram, Andrew, and even Fenn had all answered dozens of times. The Professor, of course, also wanted to see the werewolves transform. Henry, showing that he did understand every word spoken around him, turned into his human body promptly, though, like Greg, he staggered around quite a bit. Prof. Audenne stared in shock at the naked little boy suddenly standing in front of him.


    ¡°All right?¡± the kid asked, looking at Duke Desmarais.


    When the duke nodded benevolently, he turned wolf again. The transformation into a human had been fairly fast and smooth, but the reverse took nearly a minute and looked both painful and disturbing, even to David, who had seen Greg and Lee transform plenty of times by now.


    Prof. Audenne was sketching like mad.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose it¡¯s possible to do it even more slowly?¡± he asked, without looking up from his paper.


    ¡°It hurts like hell to do it at all, this time of month,¡± Fenn grumbled.


    The Morgulon, however, stopped her pacing, hackles raised and bristling, head tilted.


    ¡°How slowly?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Why, as slowly as possible,¡± the Professor said.


    So the Morgulon did. At first, the change wasn¡¯t even noticeable, but after a few seconds, they could see the fur retreating, while the snout and tail shortened.


    ¡°Yes, yes, yes,¡± Audenne muttered. ¡°Hold it, hold it, hold it, just a little longer... perfect. And onwards, if you please...¡±


    ¡°Sun¡¯s bloody ashes,¡± Fenn whispered and turned his back to the room. ¡°Hurts just to look at that.¡±


    It did, David had to agree. Nothing ¨C no living being ¨C should look like this ¨C contorted, unbalanced, one arm longer than the other, ribcage pounding like a bellows, drawing breath in sharp, irregular bursts. Backbone contorted and the emerging face scrunched up in pain.


    Prof. Audenne sketched away happily and didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    When it was over, Morgulon cowered on the ground for a long, long time, face hidden behind her long hair, still panting heavily. Andrew shrugged out of his dinner jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Eventually, she pushed herself up and fumbled with the knob of the garden door behind her until it opened. She stumbled outside and turned wolf between one step and the next, easily the smoothest transformation David had seen so far. She laid down in a puddle on the porch, curling up against the rain.


    ¡°What¡¯s she doing?¡± Audenne asked.


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    ¡°She just pulled out all her finger and toenails for you, and now she¡¯s taking a break,¡± said Fenn sourly. ¡°I hope you got lots of sketches, cause you¡¯ll never see that again in your life.¡±


    He shuddered. ¡°You have no clue how painful that must have been, and how difficult to do.¡±


    ¡°Difficult in what way?¡± Audenne wanted to know.


    Fenn huffed. ¡°As difficult as jumping off a rock and floating to earth instead of falling. I wouldn¡¯t have thought this was possible at all.¡±


    ¡°His transformation was quite slow, too,¡± Mr. Higgins said, pointing at Henry.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s close to new moon, and he had to climb up to the rock. Also, because he¡¯s new at this, and didn¡¯t know ¨C didn¡¯t have the magic to jump up.¡±


    ¡°Greg called it finding the tight-rope in his mind and controlling on which side he falls down. Depending on the moon phase, it might be necessary to climb onto the rope first,¡± Bram offered.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good comparison, too,¡± Fenn said.


    David watched the Professor take more notes.


    ¡°Since you are the one most easily verified as ¨C as sane,¡± Audenne asked Fenn, ¡°will you show us your transformation as well?¡±


    Fenn sighed but shrugged out of his clothes. His transformations were fast and smooth in both directions, and he got dressed again quickly. His bare chest was still enough to distract the young woman who entered to tell them that dinner was served.


    David couldn¡¯t fault her. Fenn was a handsome bastard.


    Lane went outside to see if Morgulon wanted to come out of the rain for dinner. She did, but didn¡¯t want to turn human.


    There was something about the she-wolf, David thought, something he had no name for. In a human, he would have called it charisma, or perhaps even gravitas. Fenn and Henry weren¡¯t the only ones who unconsciously rearranged themselves when she moved, and it wasn¡¯t just because of her size. Even when she lay curled up behind David¡¯s chair, chewing on a bone, he knew without looking whenever she shifted around and felt himself twitch in response. When she stretched her long fore-legs like a dog, most necks craned to look at her, even though she hardly made a sound.


    Fenn nearly jumped out of his chair.


    Prof. Audenne hadn¡¯t moved, but he did notice Fenn¡¯s reaction and looked around the table. ¡°Is she your pack leader?¡± he asked Fenn.


    ¡°More like my queen,¡± Fenn said slowly. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you cannot feel it.¡±


    ¡°Feel what?¡±


    Fenn shrugged. ¡°I have no idea. Magic probably. I know where she is, even if I cannot see her. Even if she is a few miles away, I know in which direction I need to walk towards her. Like a compass knows where north is. This close to her, I know when she twitches her ears. The Rot can feel it, too. It flees the area she calls her territory. Tonight, it doesn¡¯t matter what may come down the White Torrent, it¡¯ll pass through Deva quietly, and won¡¯t leave the waters for miles.¡±


    ¡°Yet the Inquisitor managed to call the Rot out of the ground, right under her nose,¡± Duke Desmarais said thoughtfully. He had barely spoken all evening.


    ¡°Called it, sure,¡± Fenn said. ¡°With lots of magic and a bloody human sacrifice. Any mother giving birth in the city tonight is safe. Unless some fool pours more magic over her.¡±


    ¡°But your presence doesn¡¯t have the same effect?¡± Audenne wanted to know.


    ¡°On a smaller scale, sure. And it builds, too. She and I, here together, makes the safe area even bigger. Twenty years from now, I¡¯ll have the same effects, probably.¡± He paused. ¡°Maybe twenty-five years. I¡¯ve been a werewolf for almost fifteen years now, but I don¡¯t know how old she is.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll need to talk to my colleagues,¡± Audenne said to Mr. Higgins. ¡°We need to find a way to quantify this effect, measure it properly. It has to be a magical field, certainly... But I shouldn¡¯t jump to conclusions. It might be something else entirely...¡±


    ¡°Talk to the alchemists, too,¡± Bram suggested. ¡°They pay huge sums for werewolf-claws, perhaps they can tell you more about their effects.¡±


    ¡°You feel it though?¡± Fenn asked. ¡°At least when you¡¯re this close?¡±


    ¡°I think I do,¡± Bram said pensively. ¡°There¡¯s something, yes. But what it is...¡±


    ¡°Hunters are attuned to their prey, not surprisingly,¡± Audenne said, and made a note when David and Lane nodded along.


    ¡°This is all very exciting,¡± the little Professor continued. ¡°Magi-Zoology is still such an untested field, due to the restrictions the Church placed on us. We¡¯ll need more werewolves of different ages to test the effects, measure them, learn more about how magic affects living beings. See if perhaps a unicorn has the same aura.¡±


    ¡°We will do our best,¡± Duke Desmarais said. ¡°But I hope you understand that securing the lands against the Rot will have to take priority over hunting unicorns. You are, of course, welcome to observe the two werewolves that are now living around Castle Blanc. They¡¯re both fairly young, compared to the Morgulon or even Fenn, but it¡¯ll give you the opportunity to see for yourself how the Rot is fought.¡±


    ¡°And can you grant us the right to that research?¡± Audenne asked. ¡°Most rumours spoke of the Duke of Mannin reaching for the crown, not you.¡±


    ¡°We have an understanding,¡± Duke Desmarais said.


    ¡°May I inquire how this understanding will pertain to our studies?¡±


    ¡°We both understand that we have no hope to defeat the Rot and its champion, the Church, if we do not stand together. The Duke of Mannin further understands that he will not win over enough Valoisian nobles to crown himself king without my help. I shall thus continue to serve as Viceroy of Loegrion, only under his kingship rather than the Roi Solei¡¯s. We¡¯ll figure out what title I shall wear sometime in the future, but for the time being, you can also think of me as the Minister of the Interior, and thus certainly able to grant you permission to this research.¡±


    So that was the deal. Most likely, Duke Desmarais hoped to gain influence over George Louis, perhaps even to become the true power behind the throne.


    Quite risky, David mused. He had serious doubts that George Louis would allow himself to become a puppet. He was far more likely to rid himself of anyone he felt might become a puppeteer.


    Still, it was good to hear that Duke Desmarais didn¡¯t intend to fight George Louis for the crown. If the two of them could work together, there was hope ¨C slim hope, but still ¨C that they really could beat back the Grande Arm¨¦e that would inevitably attack once d¡¯Evier reached Rambouillet and informed the Roi Solei of all that was going on in his northern-most colony.


    The Roi Solei would not be happy. Most of the Grande Arm¨¦e was occupied over a thousand miles south of them, engaged in yet another crusade against a new group Unbelievers. All David knew about these particular Unbelievers was that they followed a Prophet, had no intention to worship Mithras, and were giving the Grande Arm¨¦e hell.


    If luck was with them ¨C or rather, if the Roi Solei stayed true to form ¨C there would be a first hastily assembled force led by mage-priests thrown against Loegrian shores before winter, which they might be able to defeat. But afterwards, even the Roi Solei would have to realize that d¡¯Evier was not exaggerating about the werewolves¡¯ abilities to fight the Rot. Once winter was out, there would be an invasion, relying on soldiers rather than sorcery. The Roi Solei had full control over the seas, and there was little they could do about that.


    They would be fully dependent on the railways to transport those goods that were currently going by boat.


    But there was a chance, David reminded himself.

 Chapter 35

    The next time George Louis wanted to talk to David in private, he sent an official summons to the house. He was also fully dressed, much to David¡¯s relief, when he entered the private study of his guest rooms at Deva Castle. George Louis was seated behind the heavy desk, writing on some document. He didn¡¯t even look up when David entered.


    ¡°You¡¯re making a mistake with deLande,¡± George Louis said by way of greeting. ¡°She doesn¡¯t want you any more than you want her.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s kind of the point ¡° David gave back.


    That seemed to surprise George Louis. He finally looked up from his writing and leaned back in his chair, to look David up and down with a frown. ¡°So you knew that she isn''t interested in men when you got into this?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said.


    ¡°Are you really going to marry her?¡±


    ¡°Why do you even care?¡± David sighed.


    ¡°She won''t make you happy.¡±


    ¡°Happy?¡± David laughed grimly. ¡°This isn''t about happiness. You threatened to have her killed, you can have me killed whenever you want to ¨C don''t tell me I''d take you down as well, like Lester didn¡¯t try,¡± David added. ¡°This isn''t about happy, it¡¯s about survival.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± George Louis said, and he obviously made an effort to sound sincere. ¡°I won¡¯t have you killed. And I¡¯m pretty sure the Inquisition has other worries right now.¡±


    ¡°And you think that''ll make me trust you? Your word? Just like that?¡±


    ¡°Then tell me what you want,¡± George Louis said.


    ¡°I''d like my friends back,¡± David said, already tired of this conversation. How long would it take for the duke to let this rest?


    ¡°There is nothing you can do, George. You can''t bring them back, and I can''t just forget what happened and trust you again. I¡¯m not seventeen anymore.¡±


    ¡°I could see to it that your little werewolf brother gets more than some food and a roof above his head.¡±


    ¡°I know you can,¡± David replied with exaggerated patience. ¡°And if you were a decent human being, the kind of man I might trust, you would do that because it''s the right thing to do. Not because you want me in your bed.¡±


    He waited, but there was no reaction. George Louis just stared at him.


    ¡°Is your whole family going to support Desmarais, or just you?¡± he finally asked.


    David smiled grimly. So there was the ulterior motive. ¡°I¡¯m not saying I won¡¯t support you,¡± he said.


    ¡°You haven''t so far.¡±


    ¡°What, the werewolves? Make them a decent offer and we shall see.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t offer them riches.¡±


    ¡°Respect would do for a start. That¡¯s free. Treat them like humans you want something from, not monsters. Throw in food, and whenever necessary, clothes. Shoes are popular with the ones more human. A few copper pennies each week, hell, they don¡¯t even want silver. The more wolfish ones might prefer territories away from people, with a hut for new moon and a basement for full moon. They aren''t asking that much, really.¡±


    ¡°They are not human,¡± George Louis pointed out.


    ¡°Cursed humans, through no fault of their own. And yes, I do realize that you don¡¯t care for the sick, the poor, or the disabled, either, so I don¡¯t expect you to help the werewolves out of kindness any more than them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not the salvation effort,¡± George Louis replied.


    ¡°But you are dependent on their help,¡± David pointed out. ¡°So act accordingly, or watch Duke Desmarais take the crown.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t care anymore.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± David confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s my brother¡¯s future on the line here, don¡¯t expect me to help you just for a little sex.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± George Louis growled, looking annoyed for the first time. ¡°I am not offering just a little sex.¡±


    David shrugged.


    ¡°Screw you,¡± George Louis huffed and flicked his pen across the desk.


    ¡°Was that all you needed, Your Highness?¡±


    ¡°So this is how it¡¯s going to be now?¡± George Louis asked. ¡°I¡¯m ¡°Your Highness¡± to you now, and nothing more?¡±


    ¡°That is your title now. Considering how many bodies you had to walk over to get it, I¡¯d have thought hearing it would give you more pleasure.¡±


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    David was surprised how easy it was to stand here and keep his distance, how satisfying this passive-aggressiveness felt. Ten long years he¡¯d run away from George Louis because he¡¯d been scared, scared that the duke would throw him to the wolves just like Lester and Clarence, and scared that he wouldn¡¯t be able to handle the storm of emotions that came with facing his old lover. But there was little left to handle. Time had taken the edge of the fear and rage, and the passion and love he had once felt. All that was left now was a low simmering anger, which David suspected had more to do with the contents of Nathan¡¯s last letter than anything else that had happened between them.


    And why was George Louis even worried about his allegiance? He wasn¡¯t even a baron yet. And from what Desmarais had said a couple of nights ago, they had already made a deal?


    The duke was still staring at him, so David waited, a little curious what else this was about.


    ¡°Fine,¡± George Louis finally said. ¡°Be that way. You and deLande will continue your search for sane werewolves soon?¡±


    ¡°That was the plan, yes.¡±


    ¡°In that case, you should know that Duke Desmarais and I are going to close down your ¡®open market¡¯. All werewolves you catch in the future go straight to the railway, until we can finish the lines to Mannin, Silverford, and Deeshire.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t even started on those last two.¡±


    ¡°No, we have not. However, they will be vital to transport iron, coal, silver, and other materials needed for the war effort.¡±


    David just nodded. He could see the point, but he could also feel his heart sink a little. Without an open market and nobles fighting to hire them, there was very little hope that circumstances would improve for Greg and his kind any time soon.


    ¡°Fenn will protect the White Torrent¡¯s spring area,¡± George Louis continued. ¡°That should keep the heartlands safe.¡±


    And the other nobles happy, David added in his head.


    ¡°We¡¯re also going to offer convicts a choice between a bite and the rope, so we won¡¯t have to rely solely on you finding more werewolves,¡± George Louis continued.


    David forced himself not to grimace because the duke was still watching his every move. He didn¡¯t like it, but they had known it would come to this.


    ¡°This should also give Prof. Audenne and his colleagues something to study. But we will of course still need you and deLande to find more ¨C let¡¯s call them elder werewolves.¡±


    When David remained silent, George Louis frowned. ¡°Tell me what you think.¡±


    For a second, David was tempted to tell him exactly what he thought of all this, but he stopped himself. ¡°I think you need to be careful with the convicts,¡± he said instead. ¡°Force them to build the railway, if you have to, but giving a known murderer the power of a werewolf doesn¡¯t strike me as a good idea.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll take it under advice,¡± George Louis promised. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°I will not go back to hunting sane werewolves,¡± David said.


    George Louis raised his eyebrows. ¡°That is good to hear? Why would I want you to hunt the sane ones?¡±


    ¡°Because I will not lie to them, either, and if you do not start treating them better, they might well refuse to aid your war effort.¡±


    ¡°How very short-sighted of you. I offer them life. What will the Valoise do with them?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± David replied calmly. ¡°The Valoise cannot go where most of the elder werewolves live. And what you offer them is not life. What you offer is slavery.¡±


    To his surprise, George Louis sighed. ¡°And what would you have me do, David? Your brother and his kind are scary. People fear them, and not without reason. Do you think they would trust a king who instead of protecting them from the monsters, treats the monsters like nobility? Do you really think a bunch of pamphlets will be enough to alleviate that fear?¡±


    ¡°Your nobles are no longer scared,¡± David pointed out. ¡°Because they¡¯ve seen the monster up close. I¡¯m not expecting miracles from you. I¡¯m not asking you to give each werewolf a house in the city, or their own farm, even though you did promise land to everybody who helped build the railway line up to Mannin. Like I said, respect will be a start. You could at least regulate hunters, that would make Lane¡¯s and my job easier and raise the chances that we bring in an elder werewolf alive. Because right now? If they come out of hiding, like Fenn did, there¡¯s still a huge risk that somebody will just shoot them for the gold the pelt fetches.¡±


    ¡°But if I regulate hunters like you say, who will protect the people from the mad ones? Or on full moon?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying make it totally illegal to hunt,¡± David said. ¡°Just make sure that a living werewolf is worth more than a dead one. And full moon would be less of an issue if only every town and village created a safe place for them to spend the night.¡±


    ¡°I already doubled the price for living werewolves.¡±


    David rubbed his forehead wearily. ¡°No, you didn¡¯t. Look: There are three ways to earn money off a dead werewolf. First is the basic rate that the Empire pays for any dead werewolf, sometimes called the general warrant. That¡¯s the one you doubled. Second, there¡¯s the gold the pelt and the claws fetch, which together with the basic rate is still more than you pay. Third, there can be individual bounties placed onto a specific werewolf¡¯s head. Those are either put up by people who¡¯ve been harmed by this one werewolf, or by the Church. And the bounties the Church put up went through the roof after Eoforwic. They offered four to five times, easily, of what you are paying. People might still tried to get those.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize that,¡± George Louis admitted. ¡°But these bounties people put up, surely they only get placed on mad werewolves?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David sighed. ¡°Mad werewolves usually get higher bounties faster, yes, but the Church doesn¡¯t give a damn either way. And as long as towns and villages don¡¯t provide safe spaces, it¡¯s perfectly possible for a sane one to attack and kill someone on full moon. Or for a starving one to kill livestock any other night, which is often enough, here in the heartlands, for people to put money on their head.¡±


    He thought about the issue for a moment. ¡°You could pass a law that hunters have to bring in their prey alive, and give the werewolves a proper trial. And anyone who still shoots a werewolf for the pelt or claws will be punished by getting bitten himself. That should discourage people from trying to win bounties, until you can put a stop to that everywhere.¡±


    ¡°I can do that,¡± George Louis agreed. ¡°That way we would have instant replacement for any werewolf killed wrongfully.¡±


    ¡°You will also need werewolves guarding the coast,¡± David reminded him. ¡°For when the Valoise land. If you have them all protecting the railway, there¡¯ll be hell to pay when the Roi Solei sends his answer to what happened here.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll want Greg to be amongst those.¡±


    David frowned. ¡°Greg¡¯s loyal to one of your butty gangs, as I said already. I doubt he¡¯ll leave them.¡±


    Also, why would he want Greg to be fighting at the front line?


    ¡°I see,¡± George Louis said, and made a note. ¡°Anything else I should be aware of?¡±


    ¡°You might want to consider running your plans by my father while I¡¯m gone,¡± David said.


    ¡°I shall do so,¡± George Louis promised, which just made David suspicious.


    Apparently, he was dismissed now.

 Chapter 36

    Greg hadn¡¯t realized that the Morgulon had left the operation, but he did notice her return. Even though, at first, he didn¡¯t know what that strange feeling was. As if someone invisible was tugging at his sleeves. Only he didn¡¯t have sleeves, he was in his wolf-form when it started, in the middle of a fight against the Rot.


    Bernadette and Boris stopped for a few seconds, both looking into the same direction, ears flicked forwards, as if they could hear something. They had time to do so because the Rot-creature they had been fighting was retreating quickly towards the sidearm of the Savre it had crawled out of.


    Fleur took the opportunity to rip a big chunk of fungus out of its flank. Bernadette finished it off, and then, to Greg¡¯s surprise, she turned her back on the creek and ambled back towards where they had stashed their clothes.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Greg asked, as soon as they were all human again.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you feel it?¡± Bernadette asked. ¡°The Morgulon is back. Rot won¡¯t dare move its ugly head until it gets dark.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize she left,¡± Greg said, a little confused. He had noticed that the work had gotten harder, the fights more bloody, especially at night. But it was hard to believe that the Morgulon alone should have such an impact.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t feel her leave?¡± Boris asked, surprised.


    ¡°He is still very new to this,¡± Bernadette pointed out.


    ¡°And we didn¡¯t work closely with her,¡± Fleur added. ¡°He might be more attuned to you, Bernadette.¡±


    ¡°Can you feel when we¡¯re around?¡± Boris asked, looking at Greg. ¡°When you don¡¯t see us. Do you know how to find us?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know? I don¡¯t ¨C What are you even talking about?¡±


    Bernadette transformed again, and Greg had to take a few deep breaths to stop himself from following suit. Fleur turned, too, while Boris remained human.


    He eyed Greg critically. ¡°You¡¯re really good at ignoring the call, considering how young you are. Might be why you can¡¯t feel it as much.¡±


    Bernadette and Fleur walked away.


    ¡°Close your eyes,¡± Boris said. ¡°And turn around a few times.¡±


    ¡°Can I put on some pants first?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°It¡¯ll get more tricky the longer you wait.¡±


    So Greg closed his eyes and turned around a few times.


    ¡°Slowly,¡± Boris said. ¡°Stop when it feels right. It¡¯ll feel like ¨C like walking downhill.¡±


    Greg had to move very slowly and concentrate hard, and even then it was more of a guess, but when he stopped facing what he felt was the right direction, Boris grinned.


    ¡°It¡¯s less downhill, more a puddle,¡± Greg grimaced.


    He managed to reproduce the result a couple of times, but then Fleur and Bernadette were probably too far away.


    Boris shook his head. ¡°We need to practise that,¡± he decided. ¡°And I can¡¯t believe that you can¡¯t tell me in which direction the Morgulon is.¡±


    Greg really couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°Strange,¡± Boris grumbled, then he turned wolf again, to call Bernadette and Fleur back with a howl. They all got dressed and returned to where Eyal and his crew worked, to see if they could get some food.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you on duty?¡± Nosson the cook asked them with a frown.


    ¡°The Rot¡¯s taking a break,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The Morgulon just returned,¡± Boris explained. ¡°Made the Rot retreat right back into the swamp. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll be hanging around.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Nosson muttered. ¡°It¡¯s not like you guys don¡¯t work hard enough.¡±


    So they all got an early lunch and a few hours of unexpected rest. The Rot never bothered Eyal and his crew, not until nightfall. By then, another group of werewolves was responsible for keeping the workers safe. When Greg and the rest of his pack got back to work, at about four in the morning, the first hint of pre-dawn was already in the air and the birds were making a racket. They killed two of what Bernadette called little creepers and one slightly bigger creature, but as soon as the sun went up above the trees, the forest was quiet again, except for the men. As if they were back on the line to Sheaf.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be all because of the Morgulon?¡± Greg wondered. ¡°She wasn¡¯t gone that long, and the Rot was a lot more trouble before.¡±


    ¡°Maybe a mixture of things,¡± Boris yawned. ¡°We haven¡¯t had a drop of rain in nearly a month, even here in these swamps that has to make a little difference. Also, we kept the Rot down without the Morgulon just fine. And now she¡¯s back. No wonder it¡¯s scared, is it?¡±


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    ¡°So you think the Rot can feel fear?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Screams when you bite it, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Boris asked. ¡°So if it feels pain, why not fear?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s someone else,¡± Bernadette added.


    ¡°Who?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Bernadette said. ¡°It¡¯s hard to tell with the Morgulon this close, but I¡¯m fairly sure she didn¡¯t come back alone.¡±


    They found out a few hours later in the evening. Digger and Eyal called the crews together for an announcement.


    ¡°A few days ago, on the day of the solstice,¡± Eyal started, ¡°High Inquisitor d¡¯Evier raised the Rot at court in Deva. It was defeated by the Morgulon, who you all know, and another werewolf, who¡¯ll protect the White Torrent in the future. D¡¯Evier has turned tail and ran.¡±


    A cheer went up amongst the navvies, and somebody hugged Fleur from behind and kissed her on the cheek.


    ¡°Yes, yes, yes,¡± Eyal said. ¡°Good news, I know. But!¡± he called over the ruckus, ¡°he¡¯ll run straight to the Roi Solei, to tell him what happened. So you can all consider us at war with the Empire from now on.¡±


    ¡°Are we getting drafted?¡±


    ¡°No. But they want us to finish this line by next spring.¡±


    Silence fell. They had been working for just three short months, clearing the way of trees up to the bridge and preparing the ground. It wasn¡¯t them who were slowing the operation down. Work on the small and larger bridges hadn¡¯t even started ¨C hell, they didn¡¯t even know yet where all the bridges would need to go, because the landscape was changing so much with the Rot retreating. That was where they were losing time.


    ¡°They need this line,¡± Nathan took over. ¡°In a few weeks, Valoisian warships will start raiding the coast. Transporting coal from Mannin to Deggan will become incredibly risky. With Sheaf and Mannin connected by railway, we¡¯ll have a self-sufficient supply of smelted iron, which¡¯ll be vital for the war.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but we can¡¯t magic a bridge into appearance,¡± Isaac yelled, voicing what they were all thinking.


    ¡°Right,¡± Eyal said. ¡°So here¡¯re some more good news: We¡¯re getting all the resources.¡±


    ¡°All the werewolves go to this line, for now,¡± Digger added. ¡°Three came with the Morgulon yesterday, and they are forming two additional crews at Eoforwic right now. These two crews will start building the embankment and also lay down tracks up to the first new bridge, where one crew will stay behind to start on that bridge. And now the bad news:¡±


    ¡°I knew it,¡± Isaac growled.


    ¡°The bridge crew doesn¡¯t yet have their own elder werewolf, we have to send them one of ours. Since we already sent Calder away, we have to send either the Morgulon or Bernadette and her pack.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± Thoko swore.


    Greg was so surprised by her outburst that he turned around to stare at her. He wasn¡¯t happy, either: There was no way they would send the Morgulon. So he¡¯d have to decide between the pack and the butty gang.


    ¡°¡¯Shit,¡¯ sums it up quite nicely,¡± Digger said dryly. ¡°We also won¡¯t get leave in Eoforwic, and they¡¯re withholding some of our pay, both to make sure nobody here walks away from the job.¡±


    ¡°Wait, they¡¯re broke already?¡± someone up front asked.


    Eyal shook his head. ¡°Normally, I would think that, too, but no. Duke Desmarais has bought company shares, so they¡¯re pretty much drowning in money. They¡¯re just really worried that we¡¯ll take our bags full of gold and go home.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit,¡± Isaac complained. ¡°They can just hire other people then.¡±


    ¡°We already hire everyone capable of lifting a shovel,¡± one of the clerks said. ¡°Trouble is, all the nobles are now drafting regiments, too, and a lot of people still prefer the dangers of a battlefield, which they think they know, over the dangers of the Rot and werewolves. Also, they are starting two additional lines, to Silverford and Deeshire.¡±


    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± Isaac asked Greg, as soon as the gathering broke up.


    ¡°Dunno,¡± Greg muttered. He had promised the butty gang that he would stick with them all the way to Mannin. But the thought of losing the pack sent chills down his spine. ¡°I need to think about this.¡±


    ¡°Greg?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°Are you ¨C okay?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Greg said. ¡°Yes, sure.¡±


    But Thoko and Isaac looked at each other, shaking their heads. Thoko sat down next to him.


    ¡°You like them a lot, right?¡± she asked.


    Greg forced himself to take a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second. ¡°It¡¯s not that,¡± he said after a few seconds. ¡°I like you, too. A lot.¡±


    It was hard, separating his human emotions from the sense of panic he felt at the thought of Bernadette and the other two leaving him behind.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t ¨C me,¡± he added. ¡°It¡¯s the other ¨C the wolf. It¡¯s going berserk right now.¡±


    And it seemed to have control over his heartbeat right now. He tried to fight it down, but it was harder than expected.


    ¡°This is weird,¡± Greg muttered.


    He was usually better at ignoring the wolf¡¯s instincts.


    Nathan was coming over, and Greg struggled to get to his feet. He didn¡¯t mind Thoko looking at him with this much worry, but he didn¡¯t want Nathan to crack another joke about him.


    Nathan still frowned when he saw him. ¡°You all right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Greg grumbled. ¡°The news caught me by surprise, is all.¡±


    Nathan nodded. ¡°You going to go with them?¡±


    ¡°Dunno,¡± Greg sighed.


    ¡°You should, I think,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Smith¡¯s going, too, he was hoping you¡¯d come. Said something about an apprenticeship.¡±


    ¡°You think there¡¯ll be time?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Can¡¯t hurt to try, can it?¡±


    ¡°I promised I¡¯d help the crew, though,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°No offense,¡± Nathan said. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to make that much of a difference around here.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Thoko complained before Greg could say anything. ¡°What if we don¡¯t want him to go?¡±


    ¡°Come with us, if you¡¯re so worried Fleur will make a move while you aren¡¯t around,¡± Nathan said.


    Thoko glared at him.


    ¡°What move?¡± Greg asked, at which point Isaac cracked up laughing.


    Nathan grinned, too. ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to worry, Thoko,¡± he said.


    ¡°Very funny,¡± Thoko muttered, glaring at Isaac.


    ¡°Well, think about it,¡± Nathan shrugged. ¡°Nobody leaves here until the bridge crew reaches the river, anyway.¡±


    When Greg¡¯s next shift ended, Smith was waiting for him. ¡°Nathan says he already talked to you,¡± the engineer started, while Greg was still getting dressed. ¡°About the apprenticeship?¡±


    Greg nodded and tied his shoes. ¡°Think they¡¯ll let me?¡± he asked.


    Nathan was right, he wouldn¡¯t make much difference in fighting the Rot. But he had a hard time believing that the company would give him permission to abandon the job he¡¯d been hired for, no matter how much difference he made.


    ¡°Well, not officially,¡± Smith admitted. ¡°But the engineering team responsible for the bridges demand a werewolf on guard at all times while they work. Even while they are staying inside the camp. So, if you want to, I¡¯ll suggest to the clerks that they send you for that job.¡±


    He grinned at Greg excitedly.


    Greg nodded slowly. ¡°And you¡¯ll come, too, right?¡±


    ¡°For a few weeks at least, yes,¡± Smith confirmed.


    ¡°Then I think I¡¯d like to go and try,¡± Greg said. ¡°If the other engineers are okay with that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, they won¡¯t mind. I know some of them ¨C you know Adrien, too. We¡¯ll just tell them that you¡¯re the most experienced of our werewolves, they don¡¯t need to know more.¡±


    Greg smiled back, a little weakly. But he was starting to look forward to this. Maybe he¡¯d actually learn something with the engineers?


    If there was time, and he didn¡¯t have to fight the Rot so much.

 Chapter 37

    Together with Smith, Thoko, Nathan, and the rest of the pack, Greg left the campsite right after the Juilet full moon, to meet with the new crew. When they reached the Lour, a sidearm of the Savre, Greg was a little shocked. When Greg had last seen it, the Lour had been just a trickle of water often vanishing in the mire surrounding it. The build-up of peat and Rot had been so dense that the workers had been able to walk across the river.


    Now that the Rot was gone, the Lour was retaking its old bed, and they had to use a narrow, slightly ramshackle construction made of ropes and wood to get across. Men were busy cutting the peat where it hadn¡¯t been carried away by the river. Properly dried, it could serve as fuel for the railway engines, but in the absence of the Rot¡¯s dark magic, it was decaying fast, forming a marshy area. At the outlying borders, it was falling dry already.


    Green, fresh pasture was spreading in those areas, growing more than knee-high already, dotted with summer flowers. Some especially brave farmer had three cows grazing between the butterflies, where three months ago, nothing had lived.


    ¡°We did that,¡± Boris said softly at the sight. ¡°Can you imagine that we made that possible?¡±


    Greg shook his head slowly.


    ¡°Just imagine what the rest of Loegrion might look like in a few years,¡± Boris added.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope so,¡± Bernadette said.


    Greg still stared, a little dazed. Suddenly, all this fuss about the railway seemed wrong. He understood why it was done, but wouldn¡¯t it be much more efficient to send the Morgulon up to the spring area of the Savre? The Rot was still holding firm onto the big river, sending its ugly spawns down its waves.


    And then he had another idea.


    ¡°Bernadette?¡± he asked, still unable to look away from the meadow. ¡°You said the Morgulon knows all the elder werewolves, right? How many do you reckon there are, out in the wilderness?¡±


    ¡°Not that many that I know of,¡± Bernadette said. ¡°I think most of them live up in the mountains, but I never went there myself, and the Morgulon won¡¯t say.¡±


    ¡°Too bad,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°If we could just send a couple of them up to the spring of the Savre...¡±


    ¡°I doubt that would do much good,¡± Smith said.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Well, for one, nobody knows exactly where the ultimate source of the Savre is located,¡± the engineer explained. ¡°And even if a werewolf could find the headwaters, I doubt that it would be enough. The Savre has too many tributaries, and some are bigger at the confluence than the Savre itself. For example, the river Man is nearly twice as wide where it meets the Savre at Mannin, and it carries a lot of Rot in from the north-eastern forests. You¡¯d have to cleanse the Man, the Savre itself, the Wey, the Hafren, possibly the Stour ¨C mind you, those are just the big tributaries I can think of right now.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be great, though, once they¡¯re all cleared,¡± Boris said.


    ¡°There¡¯s a war to win first,¡± Nathan pointed out. ¡°Let¡¯s go, see where they want us.¡±


    When they approached the camp, there was another surprise. What had been a scarcely fortified short-term solution a couple of months ago, was turning quickly into a small town. Right outside the mound that formed the base for the walls, a proper railway station was being built. The rail track was already there, and workers were laying the bricks for a platform. A train that had stopped right in front of the construction site was just getting unloaded, and Greg craned his neck until he spotted the turntable that would be needed to turn the engine around.


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    The walls, too, had been strengthened and extended, a proper gate had been fitted ¨C currently wide open. Men in the colours of George Louis were waving them past, more were patrolling real parapets up on the walls. Others were busy erecting barracks. The sounds of hammers, and axes, and bricks clinking together were echoing between the walls, which were already becoming too narrow for the many people hoping to profit from the whole enterprise. Merchants were selling their wares in tents and putting up even more buildings. One of the biggest ones already finished was ¨C of course ¨C a pub.


    When they walked past the seating set up outside ¨Croughly cut tree stumps ¨C a man called out to them: ¡°Finally! What took so long?¡±


    ¡°Hello, Calder,¡± Bernadette sighed and walked over. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    Calder rolled his yellow eyes at her. ¡°Guard!¡± he barked, pointing at his chest. ¡°But I go now. Hate towns.¡±


    ¡°And where will you go?¡± Nathan asked.


    Calder eyed him warily. His jaws worked for a few seconds before he said: ¡°Protect. Track crew. Bernadette?¡± he added. ¡°Young ones. Watch!¡±


    And with that, he pushed himself off his tree stump and just walked out of the camp.


    Bernadette shook her head.


    ¡°What was he talking about?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Bernadette said.


    By now, they had garnered some attention and a young soldier led them over to the barracks and into a building.


    ¡°Finally,¡± they were greeted again. ¡°I¡¯m Captain Reed, commanding officer of First Camp. I¡¯m in charge of this settlement. And this is Mr. Brown of the Lackland Company, he¡¯s in charge of the bridge.¡±


    Reed wore a uniform like all the other guards, only a little better made; he looked to be about David¡¯s age, native Loegrian with red hair and lots of freckles. Brown was older, a heavy-set man, also native, in a suit that looked like he had slept in it. He waved with both hands and Reed continued:


    ¡°There has been very little Rot-activity in the past couple of weeks. Asides from you guys, we have six werewolves to guard the settlement, all of them less than a year old, two of them convicts, who have only been bitten three weeks ago. It¡¯s their job to patrol the area during the day and raise the alarm if necessary. So your ¨C elder ¨C will only be needed at night for now. How many werewolves are you even? Four? That¡¯s a little excessive, but okay. Who¡¯s your leader?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Bernadette said. ¡°My name¡¯s Bernadette.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Reed frowned. ¡°Will you be staying inside the camp?¡±


    ¡°We were hoping you¡¯d have at least a tent for us, yes,¡± Bernadette said.


    Reed¡¯s frown deepened, but he nodded.


    ¡°Is there a problem?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°No...¡± Reed said. He shook himself. ¡°No, I just wasn¡¯t expecting a whole sentence. The other elder one we had, wouldn¡¯t ¨C well, not important. A tent, yes, no problem. My men are also erecting buildings as we speak. I hope we¡¯ll get rid of the last tents soon.¡± He shook his head again. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect so many of you. We¡¯ll have to rig something up for full moon.¡±


    ¡°Which one of you will go with the engineering team?¡± Brown interrupted.


    ¡°I will.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Brown said. ¡°Let¡¯s go right now, then. They need to get started. Smith, you¡¯re with us, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Smith nodded and Brown promptly waved them to follow him, back over to the pub.


    ¡°Your bodyguard is here, gentlemen, time to get cracking!¡± Brown called into the fairly large taproom. Inside like outside, it had no chairs, just the same tree stumps, and only a couple of tables. Half a dozen men were sitting around one of them, each one with a large beer mug in front of them. Four of them were about Nathan¡¯s age, two rather elderly and frail-looking. All of them wore similar hob-nailed boots as the workers in Eyal¡¯s butty gang, but suits instead of the trousers and grubby shirts of the workmen.


    ¡°Smith!¡± greeted Adrien excitedly. Then his gaze fell on Greg. ¡°I thought we were getting a werewolf, not a hunter?¡±


    ¡°Both, in his case,¡± Smith said. ¡°Think of it as a special service.¡±


    Adrien stared at Greg.


    ¡°Also, Greg¡¯s the most experienced werewolf currently working for the railway,¡± Smith continued. ¡°He was the one who made the line to Sheaf possible.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± asked one of the older men. ¡°Why are we getting him?¡±


    Smith shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s here with me.¡±


    That seemed to suffice as an explanation, but still, nobody made a move to get up, until Brown put his hands on his hips and asked: ¡°Well? What are you all waiting for?¡±


    The engineers stared at him. ¡°But it¡¯s past noon already,¡± said Adrien.


    ¡°Which means you¡¯ve been wasting more than half a day, and the company is most certainly not paying you for that,¡± Brown gave back. ¡°I expect you to use the remaining light. The weather certainly won¡¯t get better. It¡¯s perfectly safe out there now.¡±


    There was a long, long pause, but eventually, the older man who had already spoken sighed and took a long drink from his mug of beer, before putting it down and getting up. The others followed his lead, grumbling and slower than necessary, but they all followed.


    ¡°Everyone ready?¡± the old man asked. ¡°Fine then. I suppose we should start by having a look at the building site.¡±


    They trudged past Mr. Brown, Smith bringing up the rear. He was grinning and winking at Greg, who was a little confused. He had expected the engineers to be like Smith, not half-drunk students lazing around.

 Chapter 38

    Greg followed the engineers out of the camp, but they didn¡¯t even get close to the river before they slowed down again. They started to poke the ground with their walking sticks, then stared closely at the resulting holes. It took Greg a while to realize that there was some method to this: They were looking to see if water would trickle out of the ground into the holes. As soon as they were on peat, the holes filled up within seconds. Adrien broke off a twig from a brush nearby and stuck it into the ground to mark the spot. He even cut some stripes into it.


    ¡°Groundwater¡¯s still dropping,¡± noted the old man, who seemed to be the leader, and he showed Smith another mark, several steps further away from the river. ¡°This was the edge of the wetland three days ago.¡±


    ¡°I thought you weren¡¯t going out alone,¡± Smith asked.


    ¡°That strange one went with us, Calder was his name, I think,¡± replied the old man, looking at the stick in the ground in a preoccupied way. After a few seconds, he added: ¡°Why¡¯s he looking human?¡± nodding in Greg¡¯s direction. ¡°Is he that much faster?¡±


    ¡°Just personal preference,¡± Smith said.


    ¡°In that case, I think I¡¯d prefer if he wasn¡¯t human,¡± the old man said.


    ¡°His personal preference, not ours,¡± Smith said lightly. ¡°And it makes no difference what so ever, they can sense the Rot way before it gets dangerously close. Even I¡¯ve got a fairly good idea by now of when it¡¯s around. There¡¯s nothing to worry about.


    ¡°I promise, there¡¯s nothing to worry about, Mr. Peyman,¡± he repeated when the old man was still not looking convinced.


    ¡°Says the man who ran into this forest without any idea whether it was even possible to beat back the Rot,¡± Mr. Peyman grumbled. ¡°Forgive me if I don¡¯t find the word of a hothead like you very reassuring, Smith.¡±


    ¡°You should,¡± Smith said, grinning. ¡°I¡¯ve survived the forest this long, haven¡¯t I?¡±


    Peyman huffed, but, Greg realized, he was smiling at the same time. ¡°Glad to see you alive,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°I was sure I¡¯d never see you again when you told me you were going off to help build the line through the forest to Sheaf.¡±


    ¡°It was close,¡± Smith admitted. ¡°If Greg here hadn¡¯t been there, you would have been right.¡±


    ¡°So he wasn¡¯t part of your plans from the beginning?¡± Adrien asked.


    ¡°Sun, no,¡± Smith said, are rather lopsided grin on his face. ¡°Our plan was to keep the Rot away with fire alone. We¡¯d all have died within the first week if Greg hadn¡¯t decided to hide with our crew.¡±


    ¡°But surely you must have known that your plan wouldn¡¯t survive one good storm,¡± Adrien asked, a little shocked.


    Smith shrugged. ¡°We knew it was a big risk, yes,¡± he said. ¡°But we figured we stood a chance if we just made sure we always had plenty of wood at the ready.¡±


    ¡°Why even risk it at all?¡± another young man wanted to know. ¡°I mean, the money is good, but not that great. Certainly not enough that I¡¯d throw my life away for it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone was on that crew for the money alone,¡± Smith said. ¡°Have a look around!¡± He opened his arms, gesticulating towards the meadow and the river, touched in gold by the sunset. ¡°Have you never thought about what this line, and all the others, might mean for Loegrion? If there was a chance to survive the Rot and beat the Valoise in the process, I wanted to be a part of it.¡±


    ¡°And you would have died,¡± Adrien pointed out again.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Smith said. ¡°But I didn¡¯t, and now we know how to not only survive the Rot but destroy it, too. Great discoveries aren¡¯t made by cowards.¡±


    ¡°No, they¡¯re made by madmen,¡± somebody muttered.


    ¡°Thanks, Charles,¡± Smith said, grinning wider.


    ¡°So...¡± Adrien asked, glancing at Greg. ¡°What do we do if the Rot does show up?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to,¡± Smith repeated. ¡°Just look at the river ¨C the Rot¡¯s been driven out from the whole area. You might as well be standing in the botanical garden of Deva University.¡±


    ¡°But if it comes back?¡± someone else asked.


    Smith sighed. ¡°As I said: We¡¯ll all feel it creeping up. You start feeling unwell, get a bad headache, way before there¡¯s any danger. If that happens, we¡¯ll go back to the camp, and Greg and his colleagues go to investigate what¡¯s going on.¡±


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    ¡°When the High Inquisitor raised the Rot in Deva, there was no time for anyone to run away,¡± Peyman pointed out.


    ¡°Who would raise the Rot around here on purpose?¡± Greg asked. ¡°And even if,¡± he added because the engineers were still nervous, ¡°it wouldn¡¯t be interested in you, while I¡¯m around.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Smith said. ¡°Duke George Louis raised it to test Greg¡¯s abilities to fight it, back last autumn, and the creature just ignored us, and went straight for Greg. I suppose that¡¯s why nobody got killed when d¡¯Evier raised the Rot in Deva. Look: I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s all going to be a walk in the park. The more careful we all are, the better. But as long as Greg is with us, we¡¯ll be fine, even if the worst happens, and something really dangerous does show up. We¡¯ll still be within sight of the camp, where three more werewolves are just waiting for somebody to raise the alarm. They can be here in less than a minute.¡±


    ¡°And what about full moon?¡± asked the other older engineer, who¡¯d been quiet so far.


    ¡°Full moon and new moon are our new holydays, Mr. Bisset,¡± Smith said. ¡°No work can be done on those, even the company has accepted that by now. I¡¯m sure Captain Reed will have enough cages ready by the time full moon comes around.¡±


    Peyman and Bisset looked at each other but finally seemed to decide that this was good enough. Still, Peyman said: ¡°It¡¯s getting dark. We¡¯ll start first things in the morning tomorrow, but let¡¯s get back to the barracks now.¡±


    Work did start properly the next day. Charles and another young man named Julien carried equipment, and Greg realized that the two of them were students rather than full engineers. Adrien Melvin and Martin Gables were young engineers, like Smith. All three of them had already worked at bridges in the heartlands. Peyman and Bisset turned out to be lecturers from Deva University, even though they weren¡¯t addressed as Professors.


    The division of labour was clear: Julien and Charles carried stuff, Melvin and Gables and Smith did the actual work ¨C measurements and calculations ¨C while Peyman and Bisset supervised it all. Since they all wanted to have Greg as close as possible, it was almost impossible for him not to start picking things up. They all stared at him, of course, when he started asking questions, but when Smith answered them like it was the most natural thing in the world, they didn¡¯t object.


    They saw no sign of the Rot for days, and slowly, the group was getting less nervous.


    The work progressed fast from then onwards. Within a few days, the engineers adjusted a concept already finished to the conditions at the site, and soon there was a construction plan for the new bridge, with lots of diagrams attached. The workers who had been laying the bricks for the platform were redeployed to construct the first abutment. It had to be moved more than a hundred yards away from the river, to safely cross the marshy areas. Greg was quite surprised when he saw in the drawings how much of a valley the Lour had dug. Standing at the settlement, it didn¡¯t seem like much of a slope at all. And still, the bridge would be high enough for the cows to pass underneath it.


    If the grass ever came back, that was. The small army of workers trampled most of it when they moved to put in the huge piles that would form the deepest foundation of the bridge.


    The farmer didn¡¯t complain, and he didn¡¯t run out of land to graze his cows, either. All around the camp, a large area of woodland was being clear-felled for timber, thus creating more pastures. Greg had a strong feeling that by the time spring came around, somebody would have ploughed a few fields and made them arable enough to plant the first crops.


    Until then, it was still a long way to go. Right before full moon came around once more, Bernadette came to see Greg out at the building site. All work ceased for a moment until Smith greeted Bernadette with a smile.


    ¡°Morning Bernadette. Getting bored inside the camp?¡± he asked her, loudly enough for the other engineers to hear him.


    ¡°A little,¡± she said with a half-smile and settled down on a stack of wood. Greg sauntered over since she clearly wanted to talk.


    ¡°Any problems here?¡± she asked quietly when everyone around them went back to work.


    ¡°All quiet,¡± Greg said. ¡°Rot¡¯s way too scared of you to show itself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about the Rot. I think I know what Calder was trying to warn us about. There¡¯s ¨C an issue ¨C with some of the young ones.¡±


    ¡°An issue?¡± Greg repeated.


    Bernadette looked around again, to make sure nobody was listening in. ¡°It¡¯s going to get bad, Greg,¡± she muttered. ¡°Will you help me talk to this captain? Maybe your brother, too?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Greg asked.


    Bernadette just nodded.


    Greg grimaced. ¡°All of them?¡±


    ¡°Four, I¡¯m sure are lost,¡± Bernadette said. ¡°One, might be okay, the last one I reckon will be fine.¡±


    Greg shuddered. ¡°I¡¯ll tell Nathan, we can talk to Reed tonight. No point in waiting until something happens.¡±


    Bernadette grimaced. ¡°Can you go right now? I¡¯ll stay here, Boris and Fleur are just out of sight. Be quick. You¡¯ll have a hard time fighting them off alone if they show up.¡±


    Greg stared at her in alarm. ¡°That bad?¡± he asked, and then felt stupid. He, of all people, should know how bad it was when a whole group of werewolves went crazy. ¡°Of course that bad,¡± he muttered. ¡°Let me talk to Smith, then I¡¯ll go.¡±


    The engineer wasn¡¯t surprised when he came over. ¡°Trouble?¡± he asked.


    Greg nodded. ¡°I need to go talk to Nathan.¡±


    ¡°Bernadette is staying?¡± Smith asked, at the same time as Peyman, who had sharp ears for a man his age, wanted to know: ¡°What kind of trouble?¡±


    Greg wondered whether he should lie but then decided against it. ¡°There¡¯s an issue with some of the young werewolves. I need to tell my brother about it.¡±


    ¡°Your brother.¡±


    ¡°Nathan Feleke, the werewolf hunter?¡± Smith asked back, before Greg could say anything. ¡°I reckon it¡¯ll be his job to deal with the affected werewolves.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re expected to just sit here? Like bait?¡± Peyman asked, alarmed.


    ¡°The rest of the pack is around,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°Bernadette and the two others. They¡¯ll be more than enough to keep you safe from anything that might bother you. And the faster I go, the faster I¡¯ll be back with Nathan.¡±


    He turned around before anyone could stop him, and walked off. It wasn¡¯t easy to find a balance between speed and not appearing to be hurried, but he seemed to be mostly successful. At least nobody came running after him.

 Chapter 39

    Nathan was sitting in front of the pub where Greg could hardly miss him and didn¡¯t look surprised to see him.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± he asked. ¡°I saw the whole pack walk out. Something going on?¡±


    Greg sat down across from him, and quickly looked left and right, before saying: ¡°We¡¯re going to need a werewolf hunter.¡±


    Nathan sighed. ¡°I¡¯d like to claim I¡¯m surprised,¡± he said. ¡°But that would be a lie. How does Bernadette know?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask,¡± Greg said. ¡°But she seemed really sure.¡±


    ¡°Most people like to be before they hand out a death sentence,¡± Nathan pointed out. ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s certain four of them are ¨C are gone. The fifth one might become a problem. The last one is apparently okay.¡±


    Nathan rubbed his chin. ¡°Four of them? Damn.¡± He thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. ¡°Let¡¯s go talk to Reed. Or should I go alone? Bernadette and the others can keep the workers safe, right?¡±


    ¡°For now, yes,¡± Greg said. ¡°But let¡¯s go.¡±


    Captain Reed looked up in surprise when they walked in, then made a face. ¡°I hate bad news,¡± he informed them before they could say anything. ¡°But out with it, anyway.¡±


    When Greg explained to him what Bernadette had told him, he shook his head sadly but didn¡¯t look shocked. ¡°My men who deal with them have already reported that there were irregularities.¡±


    ¡°With respect, Captain, why didn¡¯t anyone tell me?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°If you knew about this already, why didn¡¯t you take steps?¡±


    Reed frowned. ¡°I did not realize that you were still actively hunting.¡±


    ¡°And what were you going to do instead?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°Have you sent for another hunter?¡±


    The captain leafed through some papers on his table and shook his head. ¡°We had a couple of hunters,¡± he explained, ¡°but they weren¡¯t happy about the new laws and walked out on us.¡±


    ¡°What new laws?¡± Nathan wanted to know.


    Reed paused in shuffling the papers. ¡°Right, you¡¯ve been with the railway for a while,¡± he said and continued his search. ¡°No werewolf is to be killed without a crown warrant,¡± he explained. ¡°Or a fair trial.¡±


    ¡°A fair trial?¡± Nathan echoed. ¡°How do we get a judge out here?¡±


    ¡°I am authorised by His Highness himself to preside over such a trial or issue such a warrant¡± the Captain assured them. He finally seemed to find whatever paper he had been looking for and handed it over to Nathan. ¡°Here, the law pertaining werewolves in its last iteration, as it reached us a few days ago.¡±


    ¡°And why haven¡¯t you ¨C charged those werewolves yet?¡± Nathan asked, barely glancing at the text. ¡°If you¡¯re authorized to do so?¡±


    Reed pressed his lips together, clearly wondering whether he should explain himself to them.


    ¡°They stopped coming into the camp,¡± he finally said. ¡°That was the first clear sign that something was changing, and I¡¯ve been told that it¡¯s a weak sign. Calder barely entered, too, so I was hoping that for full moon, they still might come into their cages so that we could sort this out afterwards. If not, well, then I would have been forced to send a messenger to Eoforwic for new hunters.¡±


    He looked Nathan up and down. ¡°And I reckon I¡¯ll still have to send someone, right? Or do you think you can bring in all four of them by yourself?¡±


    Greg was pretty sure Nathan hadn¡¯t even heard the last couple of questions.


    ¡°You ¨C hoped they would willingly come into their cages for full moon,¡± he repeated, clearly incredulous.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think they will?¡± Reed asked back. ¡°It would have been nice and easy ¨C we could have just left them in there after full moon, have the trial then.¡±


    ¡°And in the meantime? Who¡¯s guarding the workers right now?¡± Greg could tell that Nathan really wanted to ask the captain whether he¡¯d lost his mind.


    ¡°He was supposed to,¡± Reed said, glaring at Greg. ¡°Clearly, he isn¡¯t all that worried either.¡±


    ¡°Greg is only here because right now Bernadette, Boris, and Fleur are making sure that the building site is secured. As long as this problem isn¡¯t dealt with, your workers are all in mortal danger.¡±


    Reed looked surprised at that. ¡°But nobody leaves the camp after dark,¡± he said. ¡°And the Rot hasn¡¯t been around in weeks.¡±


    ¡°Just because there¡¯s a sun in the sky doesn¡¯t mean that there¡¯s no danger,¡± Nathan replied. ¡°It¡¯s very rare, yes, but still. Daylight attacks do happen, and in this situation, I wouldn¡¯t count on anything to go as usual. And just because there¡¯s no Rot now, doesn¡¯t mean it won¡¯t be back. One good storm might be all it takes.¡±


    ¡°So you don¡¯t think that they¡¯ll come into their cages peacefully?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Nathan said flatly.


    ¡°I would be extremely surprised if they do,¡± Greg added. ¡°Though I¡¯ll admit that even werewolf hunters very rarely deal with werewolves before they¡¯re fully gone, and there¡¯s no telling how the presence of so many sane ones within the same area will affect the outcome.¡± He glanced over at Nathan. ¡°I would strongly advise you to send a messenger with the next train.¡±


    The captain nodded slowly. ¡°I¡¯ll send a message,¡± he promised. ¡°We¡¯ll need more werewolves, too. I¡¯m not issuing a warrant until after full moon, though. Work will stop tomorrow anyway until after.¡±


    Nathan opened his mouth, clearly to object, but Greg was quicker. ¡°Captain, are your men informed? And the other settlers?¡± he asked before Nathan could get them both kicked out.


    ¡°Of course my men are informed. As for the settlers, I do not wish to worry people unnecessarily.¡±


    ¡°What about the farmer with his cows?¡± Greg asked. ¡°He¡¯ll be a very easy target, all by himself.¡±


    Reed glared at him, but then he nodded. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll let people know. However, I expect you to get back on the job now.¡±


    Greg nodded and pulled Nathan with him. He wasn¡¯t surprised when his brother insisted on following him out to the worksite.


    When he got back to the construction site, everybody was looking over their shoulders a lot, but mostly, work seemed to progress as any other day. Smith still looked very relieved to see Greg again.


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    ¡°What¡¯s the verdict?¡± he asked quietly. ¡°Is Nathan going after them?¡±


    Greg shook his head. ¡°Not right now. There¡¯s four of them, and the captain wants to wait out full moon.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re supposed to just pretend nothing is going on?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Bernadette, Boris, Fleur, and I¡¯ll hang around, and tomorrow is the last day of work before full moon anyway. After that, well, I guess the captain won¡¯t have much choice but to send some hunters after them.¡±


    Smith was quiet for a long time. ¡°I don¡¯t want to sound like I don¡¯t trust you,¡± he said finally. ¡°But ¨C can you even fight them off? If all four of them come at us together?¡±


    Greg made a face. ¡°Honestly? I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve never had to fight another werewolf. And I¡¯d like to avoid it now if possible. Bernadette says, in a fight with a truly mad werewolf, only strength, size, and skill matter, and well. Neither she nor Fleur is exactly huge. And a werewolf can cripple another one permanently, just like fire and silver.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re risking one of our very few elder werewolves why, exactly?¡± Smith asked.


    ¡°I have honestly no idea,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t think the captain fully realizes the danger. I also don¡¯t think he was going to take any more advice from Nathan or me.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°He says that all his men did report was that the young werewolves wouldn¡¯t come into camp anymore. If that¡¯s really all the information he had, hell, it wasn¡¯t even such a bad decision. That really is a very weak hint. Think you can talk to Brown? Maybe, as the company representative, he can give everyone tomorrow off?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± Smith promised.


    They left the worksite early ¨C the workers certainly didn¡¯t need convincing. After weeks of not having to worry about anything, Greg was relieved to see their discipline when they hurried back to camp in a close formation, the werewolves following them, already transformed. Greg and Boris, who was the burliest, each took one of the long flanks, Fleur brought in the rear, and Bernadette was on point. Nathan was riding at her side, crossbow at the ready.


    They had managed about half the distance when they heard the howling, a lot closer than Greg would have liked it to be. Coming from two sides at once, too. Bernadette threw her head back and answered, warning them to stay away, to stay out of their territory. Greg struggled to resist the urge to join in himself like Boris and Fleur. Fleur, of course, didn¡¯t lend much weight to the call ¨C or rather, the warning. But Boris had been a werewolf long enough that Greg thought he wouldn¡¯t have been able to defy his order to stay away easily.


    He kept silent himself. He still wasn¡¯t nearly as home in his wolf-shape as in his human shape, and anyway, if Fleur¡¯s voice didn¡¯t carry much weight, his would be even less useful. He didn¡¯t realize his mistake until suddenly the answering howl came from only one flank ¨C his. Before he could decide whether he wanted to answer their challenge, or not, they came into view, three werewolves on the crest of the small hill, much closer than Greg would have thought. They paused when they spotted him. He couldn¡¯t be sure, but he thought they seemed surprised to see him as if his silence had made them think that this side of the truss would be open.


    Their hesitation didn¡¯t last long, unfortunately, and they came down the slope, albeit slowly. People behind him screamed.


    Greg moved away from the workers, who were running as fast as they could in their heavy boots, to meet them, growling without thinking about it. There was still no sign of the fourth one. He probably should be calling for help, but couldn¡¯t quite bring himself to do it. If he did, Bernadette would no doubt come to his aid. So would Nathan.


    He shook the thick fur in his neck angrily and growled louder. Nathan alone stood no chance against three werewolves, especially not in a straight confrontation like this. And Smith was right as well: Risking the life of one of their very few elder werewolves was stupid, too.


    He halted, almost halfway up the slope, where he could still keep an eye on all three of them. Strangely enough, he wasn¡¯t scared. Angry, yes, but hardly even worried, despite their superior numbers. The wolf-part of him was only full of fury and disdain. This was their territory, and these Johnny-come-latelies thought they could drive them away and take what was theirs?


    When Greg barked at them, the mad ones tarried. It was a strange sight to see: Two of them staggered back and forth as if they were so drunk that even on four legs they couldn¡¯t stand upright. The last one first backed off at his bark, just to switch directions after just a few steps. It passed the invisible line in the middle between them and hurriedly backed off again. Greg wished he knew more about what was going on inside their heads. He¡¯d have thought they would be more aggressive, especially with their advantage of numbers, but his steady growl was enough to keep them away.


    As if they were scared of him.


    But that made no sense, did it? In his brothers¡¯ stories, mad werewolves were scared of nothing at all, or if they were, their blood lust was stronger.


    Or was that just because his brothers were all human?


    He could see all three of them craning their necks, staring after the workers, whose orderly rows had turned into a blind panic, stretching the line out much further as the slower men struggled to keep up with the mad stampede.


    Did they still recognize him as one of their own?


    But if they did, why couldn¡¯t Bernadette order them away?


    The stand-off lasted a few more seconds, and then one of the staggering ones found his feet and came at him, teeth bared. Greg planted his four feet and met him head-on. Only in the last second, he lowered his face so that instead of his jugular, all the mad one got between his teeth was the thick fur in the back of his neck. Greg snarled as a second one came at him from behind, and spun around, throwing the first one off. He never hesitated when he went for the throat of his second attacker himself. Before he got there, the third one crashed into his shoulder, throwing off his aim.


    They were trying to push him off his feet, so Greg ducked as low as he could and tried to keep his legs out from between their huge jaws. If they could bring him down, he was dead, no doubt about it.


    He snarled angrily when once again, a pair of teeth closed around the back of his neck. It hurt, so he reared like an untamed horse. At once, the other two tried to go for his unprotected belly and throat.


    Working together.


    Greg let himself drop as fast as he could. He tried to call for help without raising his head to howl. It came out more like a whine, not carrying at all. But somehow, even as his attackers came at him again from three sides at once, even over the growling and snapping, he heard the most beautiful music he could have imagined at that moment: A crossbow singing.


    Abruptly, one set of teeth stopped trying to hamstring him, giving him room to shoulder another one out of the way. The third werewolf also let go of him. All of the mad ones were focused on Nathan now. One of them had a silver bolt stuck in his flank, his breathing laboured, with a rattling sound to it. The bolt had probably pierced his lung, but he wasn¡¯t down yet, and still dangerous.


    Greg could see Nathan hesitating. For a couple of seconds, his crossbow swung from one werewolf to the next, before he settled on the injured one. The second bolt hit square in the eye, taking one werewolf out for good. His crossbow now empty, Nathan turned his horse around at once, retreating fast.


    The remaining two came after him as soon as Nathan¡¯s horse turned tail. Greg chased after them, and he could see Bernadette, too, a little further on, still guarding the retreating workers, in case one of the werewolves realized how much easier prey the men on foot would be. Greg was fine with this division of labour.


    After all, one mad werewolf was still missing.


    Nathan would need time to re-cock his crossbow, especially with the horse in such a mad run. Greg wasn¡¯t sure if he himself would have been able to do it at all. But he could buy his brother that time.


    He tumbled first into one of the chasing werewolves, and then the other. It slowed them down, yet they both ignored him, fully focused on their fleeing prey. He did it again, anyway, buying Nathan a few more seconds, until his brother swung his crossbow up into the air. The last sunlight made the silver quarrel glitter.


    Greg took another three steps until he was right behind the werewolf in the lead, and then took a huge jump. His teeth sunk into the lean muscle in the werewolf¡¯s back and his claws harrowed at the sinews in his back legs. They both went down, but Greg managed to stay on top of his opponent.


    As the other werewolf struggled, Greg had just enough time to watch as Nathan brought his horse around in a tight turn, to face his last pursuer. David would not have approved of this move: Nathan was barely twenty yards ahead of the last werewolf, hardly any room at all to aim and shoot.


    Nathan¡¯s crossbow sung twice: Both shots missed the eyes. One only hit the thick muscles of the shoulder, yet it was enough to make the werewolf swerve for one jump. The second one went through the neck. He still managed two more jumps, and Greg was terrified that all Nathan had hit was fur, but then the werewolf staggered and stumbled, and he could see the blood running from the jugular over the lighter fur on the chest, colouring it red.


    Greg almost let go of his own prey in relief. The other werewolf noticed, of course, and made another attempt to buck him off. Greg let go of his back and snapped at his hind-leg instead. He was lucky and managed to get a good grip. When he bit down as hard as he could, he felt bones break. The other werewolf half barked, half whimpered, and finally forgot about Nathan, turning on three legs to face Greg.


    It wasn¡¯t much of a fight anymore. The wolf part of Greg¡¯s mind knew exactly what to do with the crippled opponent. The blood went everywhere when he ripped out his throat.

 Chapter 40

    Nathan led the way back to the camp. Greg followed him slowly, limping slightly. He had to stay back a couple of hundred yards from the wooden walls, as long as he was in his wolf form. Nathan went on with the promise to bring him some clothes. Greg let the wolf take over, which was eager to lick the wounds they had sustained.


    He jumped, when Nathan returned, on foot now.


    The gibbous moon, already high in the darkening sky, made it hard to find his human form. That wasn¡¯t all, though. He didn¡¯t want to think about what happened tonight, and as long as he was wolf, it was hard to think about anything other than food.


    He could stay out here. Maybe, Nathan would bring him something to eat instead of his clothes?


    But Bernadette, Boris, and Fleur were already inside the camp, he could feel Bernadette¡¯s ¨C whatever it was. Aura. Warmth. And he didn¡¯t feel like spending the night alone in the wild.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Nathan asked when he didn¡¯t turn.


    Greg made no attempt to answer that question, instead closed his eyes, and found the tightrope in his mind.


    ¡°You look pretty wild,¡± Nathan said a minute later, grinning, when Greg stared down at his hands, still smeared with blood.


    There was blood everywhere.


    Nathan offered him his clothes. Greg reached for them, then abandoned the movement half-way through, pushed Nathan¡¯s hands away instead. Before Nathan had so much as opened his mouth, Greg was retching, vomiting so hard he found himself almost crawling on all fours.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a ¡®not okay¡¯,¡± Nathan said while Greg threw up more bile. He kneeled down next to Greg, and loosened the bottle of water from his belt. ¡°Want some?¡±


    Greg nodded, too out of breath to say anything. He only managed two gulps, before he was gagging again.


    ¡°Take your time,¡± Nathan said calmly.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Greg muttered, after drinking some more water.


    Nathan shrugged. ¡°We all threw up, the first time,¡± he said. ¡°And we didn¡¯t even have to use our teeth. Well, Andrew and I did, in any case. I dunno about David.¡±


    That didn¡¯t make Greg feel better in the least. He tried to swallow against the new bile that rose in his throat when Nathan mentioned teeth, but it was no good.


    ¡°Did you have to say that?¡± he complained when he could speak again.


    ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s better to get it over with,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Unless you prefer Thoko to take care of you?¡±


    ¡°Very funny,¡± Greg grumbled.


    Nathan grinned. ¡°Or perhaps Fleur?¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes. ¡°There¡¯s nothing going on between me and Fleur, I don¡¯t know why you would even think that.¡±


    There was nothing going on between him and Thoko either. But at least in her case, he wouldn¡¯t have minded if there was.


    Nathan eyed him thoughtfully. ¡°I guess it¡¯s a full moon thing, then,¡± he said. ¡°Cause, when you go around the camp together as wolves, you two certainly seem to be interested in each other.¡±


    Greg stared at him blankly. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You really don¡¯t remember much about that time, huh? Last full moon, the two of you spend half a day dozing in the sun side by side, in plain view from the camp. It looked quite ¨C snugly. Thoko was not happy, of course.¡±


    Greg frowned. No, he didn¡¯t remember anything about that. Maybe he shouldn¡¯t be too surprised. He used to remember the days of full moon quite well, but not when he was out with the pack.


    And no. He didn¡¯t want Thoko to see him like this, naked, retching, and still covered in blood. His hands, still holding the water bottle, were shaking with weakness.


    ¡°Feeling better?¡± Nathan asked when Greg handed the bottle back and reached for his pants instead.


    ¡°Not really,¡± Greg said quietly. ¡°Just ¨C cold.¡±


    He was still feeling slightly nauseous, and when he struggled to his feet to pull up his pants, he nearly threw up again. His legs were just as bloody as the rest of him. He took it as a good sign, though, that he did manage to keep it down.


    Getting dressed seemed to take forever. It surprised him a little, how calmly Nathan was waiting for him to get his shit back together. Nathan wasn¡¯t exactly known for his abundance of patience. But he only began to whistle softly to himself, while Greg dithered around, unsure of whether he wanted to put a shirt onto his blood-smeared chest, or whether he should better wait until he could wash in the camp.


    Of course, if he did that, then everyone would see him, covered in blood.


    Eventually, he asked for the bottle back and poured the last water into his open palm, to at least clean his face a little and as much of his neck as he managed.


    He¡¯d need to shave as soon as he was back at the camp.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Nathan asked when Greg finally did finish dressing.


    Greg nodded a little hesitatingly, but he started moving towards the camp. By now, the nausea had fainted enough that the hunger was stronger.


    ¡°Think there¡¯ll be anything left to eat?¡± he muttered, as they walked towards the gates of the camp.


    ¡°For you? Sure,¡± Nathan said.


    They walked the rest of the way in silence. The guards at the gates stared at them when they entered, and quickly closed up behind them. Everyone else turned to stare, too, and Greg wished he¡¯d been able to clean himself up better. Were there always this many people out in front of the pub? Or was he just being paranoid?


    When the cheer went up, he was so surprised he nearly jumped into his other body.


    Nathan smirked, the bastard.


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    ¡°Relax,¡± he muttered. ¡°You saved their lives, let them say their thank-yous.¡±


    One of the workers was already coming towards them, a beer mug in each hand, yelling: ¡°Hail, the heroes are back! Sit down with us, have a drink!¡±


    Greg shuddered, but when Nathan accepted the mug, he did, too. People were surging forward now, and he took a hesitating sip, just so he wouldn¡¯t have to shake hands with every single worker. They were surrounded by so many bodies, there was no way he¡¯d make it over to the barracks.


    One of the men even hugged Nathan, who laughed, but stopped the guy before he could move on to Greg.


    ¡°Give him some breathing room,¡± Nathan said, grinning but firm. ¡°It¡¯s nearly full moon, after all.¡±


    That did buy them some space, and Nathan stepped forward at once. Greg wished he could run back into the forest, but the gate was closed behind him.


    Nathan dragged him forward. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get you cleaned up,¡± he said. ¡°And then we¡¯ll find some food, what do you think?¡±


    Greg just nodded and followed close behind him, hanging on to his mug, while Nathan forged them a path over to the hastily erected wooden hut the pack had been put up in.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get some water,¡± Nathan promised, and a moment later Greg could hear the clanking sound of the crank from the camp¡¯s little well. They had had to dig deeper twice already because of the falling groundwater levels that came with the Rot¡¯s retreat. Greg wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if they¡¯d had to do it again sometime soon. Smith had talked about bringing in a geologist to have a look.


    Greg closed his eyes and took a few measured breaths, before he started taking his shirt off, without opening his eyes. Already, there were red stains all over it, and he really didn¡¯t want to look closely. Even in the low light of the small oil lamp.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Greg jumped at Fleur¡¯s soft voice. For a second, he had the irrational urge to cover his naked chest again, before he remembered that Fleur had seen him naked all over plenty of times by now.


    ¡°I hope that¡¯s not all yours,¡± she added.


    Greg shook himself. ¡°None of it,¡± he said, and then realized that that was a lie. He held out one of his arms and stared down at all the smaller and bigger injuries there. His proportions had all changed with his transformation, but in some places, the wounds were still clearly recognizable as bite marks.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said because he couldn¡¯t think of anything better. ¡°Really,¡± he added.


    Fleur didn¡¯t look away, though. They were still staring at each other when Nathan returned with a bucket of fresh water. Without another word, Fleur reached for the bloody shirt Greg had discarded, ripped out a piece that wasn¡¯t as bloody, and dipped it into the water. Gently, she then took Greg¡¯s hand and began to wash out the cuts. It burned and stung almost as bad as silver, but he managed not to pull back his hand.


    ¡°Got you good, didn¡¯t they?¡± Nathan asked, and then looked at Fleur. ¡°Seen any sign of the last one? Bernadette spoke of at least four mad ones, right?¡±


    Fleur nodded. ¡°Tried to get to the workers while you and Greg were busy with the other three. He must have had some brains left, cause he ran, soon as he saw Bernadette and Boris.¡±


    ¡°And Bernadette only realized this morning how much trouble we were in?¡± Nathan asked shrewdly.


    Fleur looked away and stopped cleaning Greg¡¯s injuries. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°I mean ¨C we weren¡¯t sure... We had to try, didn¡¯t we? See if we could help them.¡±


    ¡°Help them how?¡± Nathan wanted to know.


    Fleur shrugged. ¡°They stopped ¨C stopped acting human right after new moon,¡± she admitted. ¡°But they still listened to Bernadette, you see? So we figured ¨C neither of us has ever been there when a werewolf goes mad, right? And when they got worse after half-moon, well, we just thought ¨C we wanted to make sure that Bernadette couldn¡¯t stop the process.¡±


    ¡°What changed today?¡±


    Fleur looked down at her own hands. ¡°One of them attacked Bernadette. I think it was the one that got away, actually. Boris got him real good, maybe that¡¯s why he didn¡¯t dare attack the workers.¡±


    ¡°Is Bernadette okay?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Fleur said quickly. ¡°Boris was right there before he could hurt her. Boris was against the whole idea anyway,¡± she added softly. ¡°Maybe he was right.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say so,¡± Nathan said. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. ¡°Look, I kind of get it, okay? You all knew that telling anyone would get those four killed. But at least tell Greg, next time, yes? Preferably before anyone gets attacked.¡±


    Fleur grimaced but nodded. ¡°We¡¯re not going to try again,¡± she said softly. ¡°It didn¡¯t work, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± Greg asked. ¡°At the very least I¡¯d have known to be more vigilant.¡±


    Fleur didn¡¯t meet his eyes. ¡°We thought you¡¯d tell him,¡± she muttered, nodding towards Nathan. ¡°And then he¡¯d have gone, and... We wanted to at least try, you see?¡±


    She glanced at him from under dark eyebrows, and muttered: ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Greg folded his hands in his lap and looked away. He didn¡¯t know what to say. He¡¯d really thought the pack trusted him, but apparently, he had been mistaken there.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think maybe he still had a right to know you were gambling with his life?¡± Nathan asked archly.


    Fleur ignored the question and stared at Greg a few seconds longer. When he didn¡¯t say anything, she seemed to fold in on herself and retreated from the hut slowly, apparently hoping they¡¯d call her back. She hesitated a second longer at the door but finally went.


    ¡°Great,¡± Nathan muttered darkly. ¡°Think we should tell Reed about this?¡±


    Greg shook his head. ¡°What¡¯s the point?¡± he sighed. ¡°I reckon she said the truth when she claimed they won¡¯t try again. And it¡¯s basically the same thing the Captain tried himself, isn¡¯t it? Wait it out and hope for the best?¡±


    ¡°Idiots, the lot of them.¡±


    Greg just shrugged and reached for the piece of cloth Fleur had left behind, to continue cleaning his wounds. He had just pulled up one leg of his trousers to see how bad the bites were underneath when Bernadette came in.


    Greg didn¡¯t look up to meet her gaze. ¡°If you¡¯re here to apologise, too, I¡¯m not in the mood,¡± he growled and tried not to wince, while he dabbed at one of the bigger bite marks. Everything ached and burned, and the thought that they hadn¡¯t told him hurt most of all.


    ¡°Look, Greg, we really are sorry...¡±


    Greg interrupted by throwing the blood-soaked cloth at her. ¡°Just go away, okay?¡± he hissed. ¡°If I wasn¡¯t important enough to warn earlier, then I¡¯m sure your sorries can wait till after full moon!¡±


    ¡°We never meant for you to get hurt,¡± Bernadette said.


    ¡°Oh, really. If you wanted to keep me safe so much, you could have dropped a hint! Just a little ¡®we¡¯ve noticed a problem here, we¡¯ll try to deal with it, but be careful¡¯ would have sufficed! You needn¡¯t even have told me exactly what the problem was!¡±


    ¡°And you wouldn¡¯t have asked? Or told him?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll never know, I guess,¡± Greg grumbled. He turned towards Nathan. ¡°Do we have any bandages?¡±


    ¡°Some,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Want me to find the garrison¡¯s barber? Maybe he can stitch it.¡±


    Greg stared down at the long, nasty cut that was bleeding in a slow, but steady trickle, drenching his shoes. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°It¡¯s almost full moon, how bad can it be? I¡¯ll just wrap it up quickly, I want to get something to eat.¡±


    He didn¡¯t want to think about full moon. The wolf was already howling at him to be nice to Bernadette, and not to argue, because there was no way they could win. It was hard to hold onto his anger, to stop himself from apologizing for yelling at her.


    Nathan kneeled down in front of him with a hand full of bandages, and they both pretended that there were just the two of them. Nathan insisted on rubbing some alcohol onto the bigger wounds, and through the pain, Greg didn¡¯t notice when she left.


    The party was still in full swing when Greg and Nathan emerged from the hut, and a new cheer went up. Greg couldn¡¯t see the rest of the pack anywhere, so he didn¡¯t resist when a new glass full of beer was pressed into his hands. Finding something solid to eat took a little longer, but the woman who ran the kitchen of the pub promised to find him something better than leftovers. Not that he wouldn¡¯t have been happy to take the leftovers.


    Brown had already made his decision that no work was to happen tomorrow, which Greg thought was a little late. After all, the mad werewolves were either dead or on the run. Not that he was about to complain. It didn¡¯t take an hour for his wounds to soak through the bandages and stain his clothes again. He had forgotten how long it took for werewolf-bites to even scab over.


    At least the booze was plenty. Nathan didn¡¯t drink much, Greg noted, but he wasn¡¯t about to turn down all the free beer people kept offering him.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked Nathan when he finally had a plate of bread and meat and they settled down in front of one of the new tables.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine,¡± Nathan said. There was a weird look on his face.


    ¡°Not thirsty?¡± Greg asked.


    Nathan laughed a sharp little laugh. ¡°Not in the mood for it,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°I hope someone here sees some sense tonight, and I can go after that last one tomorrow morning before this gets any worse and somebody gets killed. We¡¯re barely ten miles away from Eoforwic, if we¡¯re unlucky, the mad one will get there before the moon sets. Just think of the headline.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not,¡± Greg said.


    Nathan¡¯s smile was all teeth, flashing in the torchlight.

 Chapter 41

    When Greg woke up the next morning ¨C in Nathan¡¯s hut, not the pack¡¯s ¨C his brother was nowhere in sight. Only a few workers were milling about when he stepped outside. He was relieved to see that Thoko was sitting close by on one of the tree stumps.


    ¡°Morning,¡± he said.


    ¡°Greg,¡± she said, looking up. ¡°You all right?¡±


    ¡°Guess so,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°My sheets are all bloody, but it seems to have stopped now.¡±


    ¡°And how¡¯s your head?¡±


    ¡°What about my head?¡±


    Thoko laughed. ¡°You know, sometimes even I¡¯m a little jealous of that werewolf healing. How much beer did you have last night?¡±


    ¡°Not that much,¡± Greg said. ¡°I mean, for a day right before full moon. Where¡¯s Nathan?¡±


    ¡°On the hunt already,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Some guard told me he left right after dawn. The captain signed the warrant last night.¡±


    She looked at Greg from the side. ¡°Crazy that they have to put up a crown warrant now, right?¡±


    Greg nodded. He wasn¡¯t happy that Nathan had left alone, but he couldn¡¯t have helped, anyway. Tonight would be his first full moon inside a cage, even though he didn¡¯t absolutely have to transform. Not if the others didn¡¯t, at least.


    They sat in silence for a while, until Thoko asked: ¡°Is something else wrong? I¡¯d have thought the rest of the pack would be around to see how you¡¯re doing?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Not sure they really are my pack,¡± he admitted after a moment. ¡°Or if they are, I guess I¡¯m not that important a member. They knew,¡± he added because Thoko was giving him a strange look. ¡°Knew for a whole bloody week that those four were losing it. Didn¡¯t tell me, though.¡±


    Thoko frowned. ¡°What the hell were they waiting for?¡±


    ¡°They wanted to see whether Bernadette could stop the process,¡± Greg said, shrugging. ¡°And they worried I¡¯d tell Nathan, and that he¡¯d go and kill them anyway.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s just crazy! I mean ¨C if an elder werewolf could stop the process, why were there ever any mad werewolves in the first place?¡± Thoko pointed out. ¡°They¡¯ve existed in Loegrion before the Empire came, didn¡¯t they?¡±


    Greg nodded glumly. ¡°Probably,¡± he said. ¡°Records are sort of sketchy, though. Or maybe that¡¯s just because the Church didn¡¯t want any knowledge about them to get out. Mr. Higgins, my old tutor, and I, we spent some time at the archives in Deva, trying to learn more, but they¡¯re huge, and well. We had other things to do, too. There are hardly any records from the time before the invasion left, though, and nothing about werewolves. Either they were much rarer back then, or they didn¡¯t attack so many people. Or who knows, maybe it was such a common thing that chroniclers didn¡¯t find it all that noteworthy.¡±


    He fell quiet, and Thoko didn¡¯t say anymore, either. He was glad she was there, though. Without the work with the engineers to distract him, and without the pack to talk to, it would have been a miserable day, otherwise. Even more miserable than a day before full moon always was.


    After the party last night, the mood within the settlement was subdued everywhere today. Workers basked in the sun, or played card games in front of the pub. Some newspapers went around, too. Greg tried, but couldn¡¯t concentrate enough to read. Mostly, he and Thoko sat next to each other in silence at a table in front of the pub, where the nice woman from last night was happy to serve breakfast, and second breakfast for Greg, and lunch and tea, too. He couldn¡¯t stop wondering what the rest of the pack was doing right now, and he worried about Nathan, too. Especially when it began to rain right after lunch.


    How far had the Rot retreated? And what direction did the mad one run, anyway?


    They stayed outside despite the weather. The thought of going inside, where it was packed with people, made Greg¡¯s hands curl into fists and his teeth grind together. Even Nathan¡¯s empty hut was more than he could stand.


    He wanted to tell Thoko that she didn¡¯t have to sit with him in the rain and watch him glare at passersby in silence, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do it.


    The sound, when a train arrived at the brand new station and blew its whistle loudly, nearly made Greg run over there and attack someone. What were they needing a delivery for today of all days anyway?


    ¡°Look, Greg!¡± Thoko suddenly said. ¡°Look! It¡¯s David!¡±


    Greg followed her gaze in disbelieve. Of course, Thoko was right: There was David, leading his gelding into the camp, and Lane deLande at his side, and right behind them, there was ¨C Mr. Higgins?


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    Greg was out of his seat before he fully realized what he was seeing. He stopped just a couple of feet in front of David and deLande ¨C he could have sworn that he could feel the cold emanating from all the silver the two of them were carrying.


    David had to admit that travelling by train was a lot more convenient than riding the ten miles out to what the clerks at the company headquarters at Eoforwic had referred to as ¡°First Camp.¡± He still would have very much preferred to spend all day on horseback sweltering in the ao?t-heat to get there, rather than spend half an hour in a freight compartment with Duke George Louis, Mr. Higgins, Prof. Audenne, and an assortment of other scientists. Since usually only workmen and materials used it, this line didn¡¯t yet have proper passenger coaches, and they were all getting jostled around a lot.


    The one positive thing was that Prof. Audenne was keeping up a steady stream of conversation with George Louis, so David didn¡¯t have to talk to him.


    He had been very surprised when, after they had all boarded the train in Eoforwic and had been waiting to depart for nearly an hour, George Louis had climbed through the open hatch without any of the usual fanfare, and only one clerk to accompany him. Not even guards had followed him.


    ¡°I just want to see the progress with my own eyes,¡± he had claimed.


    There was a lot of progress to admire, David had to admit when they disembarked. The first was, of course, the fact that they could travel out to ¡°First Camp¡± by train at all. Even more impressive was the train station they had reached, complete with a platform, freight lifts, and even a waiting booth. David had no idea who might be using the latter. It wasn¡¯t like any returning workers had far to walk from the gates of First Camp over to the station, and it would be much safer to wait behind them, anyway. They were close to a river, after all.


    There was no sign of the Rot, though, not even the slightest. Down in the valley beyond the small station, the river ran as peacefully as any creek in the heartlands. David couldn¡¯t smell a whiff of the Rot either, despite the steady drizzle.


    ¡°It looks almost peaceful,¡± Lane noted. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t think it was the first night of full moon tonight,¡± she added, gesticulating towards the wide-open gates of the camp.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s perfectly safe again, Madam,¡± a passing guard assured them. ¡°We¡¯ve got some very fine werewolves at the camp. They took care of most of the troublesome ones yesterday, and our hunter set out this morning to get the last one.¡±


    Lane and David exchanged a long look, then shrugged at the same moment. Without needing to talk about it, they decided to unload their horses right away.


    When they had calmed the animals enough to lead them down the ramp onto the platform, a heavy-set man in a rumpled suit had arrived to show Duke George Louis all the work that had been accomplished at the station. David and Lane decided not to take the tour, but to go ahead and enter the camp. Mr. Higgins followed them, and so did Prof. Audenne.


    ¡°I wonder what kind of trouble they¡¯ve had yesterday,¡± Lane said quietly.


    ¡°Me too,¡± David replied.


    Nathan had written in his last letter that he and Greg might join the work at the bridge, so surely they had been involved in whatever had been going on around here?


    Right outside the camp¡¯s walls, next to the wide-open gate, were two heavy iron cages positioned, each one big enough to hold a werewolf. David was relieved to see that they were empty; so hopefully, Greg hadn¡¯t been forced to spend all day inside such a contraption.


    Once inside the high wooden walls, David paused to admire the little town that appeared to have been dumped right into the forest by some kind of god. It was hard to believe that humans and werewolves together had wrestled the settlement from the Rot within just a few months.


    And there, right in front of the building that had a sign with ¡°First Pub¡± attached to its walls, sat Greg and Thoko at a table, out in the rain. Greg was hunched over a plate, but Thoko had already spotted them and was waving at them. David grinned when Greg looked up, his face quickly going from surprise to shock. He jumped out of his seat and came running over, his gaze fixed not on David, but Mr. Higgins, and then stopped abruptly a few feet in front of David and Lane, his mouth still hanging open.


    He looked bad. The full moon agitation his eyes were burning with David had been prepared for, but there was also a bandage coming loose around his neck, pink with rain-diluted blood. His whole shirt was drenched with water. David could only hope that the rain made the bloodstains blooming on that look worse than they actually were as well.


    ¡°You look like crap,¡± David said when Greg didn¡¯t speak. ¡°What happened here?¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Greg asked at the same moment. ¡°Long story,¡± he added.


    David waited for more explanation to follow, but Greg was staring at Mr. Higgins again. David didn¡¯t want to delay their reunion more than necessary, so he asked: ¡°Where¡¯s Nathan?¡±


    Maybe he had some answers.


    But it was Thoko who said: ¡°Four of the very ¨C new ¨C werewolves they had here went mad yesterday. Greg fought three, and they all died, but the fourth one got away. Nathan went after him this morning.¡±


    Four mad werewolves all at once, good grief. Hadn¡¯t he warned George Louis to be careful about the newly bitten ones? What had they even written that bloody pamphlet for, if not even the company heeded their advice?


    ¡°Sounds like you had a busy few days,¡± David said aloud. ¡°We¡¯re here to escort some scientists,¡± he added, and stepped aside a little before Mr. Higgins pushed him out of the way.


    Greg nodded silently and stared anxiously at his former tutor.


    David sighed inwardly. He wished they could have had this reunion any day that wasn¡¯t full moon, but the schedule had been what it was.


    ¡°Duke Desmarais wants a study done on werewolves,¡± David explained when Greg just stood there, frozen at the spot. ¡°Proper research.¡±


    That finally shocked Greg into speaking. ¡°To find out what?¡± he asked, looking worried.


    ¡°Everything we can,¡± Mr. Higgins said and pushed through between David and deLande. David grabbed him by one shoulder when he opened his arms to hug Greg.


    ¡°You okay, Greg?¡± David asked.


    Greg nodded but said: ¡°No hugs. Please.¡±


    Mr. Higgins dropped his arms. ¡°You ¨C do remember me, right, Greg?¡± he asked, looking a little lost.


    Greg¡¯s smile looked forced. ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s just really not a good time for hugs. Are you hungry? Thirsty? There¡¯s a pub.¡±


    Mr. Higgins finally seemed to be catching on. ¡°The pub sounds good,¡± he said, and he followed Greg and Thoko over to the roughly-hewn table where they had been sitting before.


    ¡°Go with them,¡± Lane said quietly when David hesitated. ¡°I¡¯ll take your horse and see if I can find out the official version of what¡¯s going on here.¡±

 Chapter 42

    David smiled gratefully and handed the reins over before hurrying after the other three. He was a little surprised when they sat down and Mr. Higgins didn¡¯t even complain about the fact that the rough seats were all wet.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you all,¡± Greg said, when he had his plate in front of him again, picking at a piece of bread. ¡°But, uh, what exactly are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I guess you don¡¯t get much news out here, huh?¡± Mr. Higgins asked back. ¡°Did you see the pamphlet David wrote?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Greg asked. ¡°David wrote a ¨C no way!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so shocked,¡± David said, grinning. ¡°It was on werewolves, and not exactly an epic.¡±


    Thoko giggled at Greg¡¯s face. ¡°Did you bring one?¡± she asked. ¡°Can we see?¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t bring one,¡± David said. ¡°You all know everything that¡¯s on there, anyway. I reckon most people around here do by now.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Not after what¡¯s been going on here.¡±


    One of her hands was touching Greg¡¯s arm, and neither of them seemed to notice. Mr. Higgins clearly did, because he eyed Thoko with new interest, and after a second, took off his hat: ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve had the pleasure?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m Mr. Higgins.¡±


    ¡°I figured,¡± Thoko said, smiling. ¡°Greg talks a lot about you. I¡¯m Thoko Banda, we¡¯ve been working together ever since Greg joined the railway.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m very pleased to meet you,¡± Mr. Higgins said. ¡°I did not realize that there were women working as navvies?¡±


    Thoko¡¯s smile grew a little tired. ¡°I¡¯m the only one, so far,¡± she said. ¡°I think people round here just got used to me by now.¡±


    ¡°What has been going on here?¡± David asked. ¡°What happened to Greg? You said something about new werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Thoko said. ¡°The company sent six of them to protect this settlement, all of them bitten less than a year ago. When we arrived, they did tell us that two of them were convicts who had only gone through one full moon.¡±


    David groaned. ¡°Idiots.¡±


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Thoko agreed. ¡°Well, what they didn¡¯t tell us was that the others were just as young. Only one of them will go through his sixth full moon tonight.¡±


    ¡°So Greg was guarding the whole camp mostly on his own?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Thoko said. ¡°There¡¯s Bernadette, she¡¯s more than ten years old, with her pack. Boris and Fleur. Fleur¡¯s about two, Boris I never asked. But older than Fleur.¡±


    ¡°About six,¡± Greg said.


    Thoko nodded. ¡°Well, anyway. Nathan told me last night that somehow, Bernadette noticed that things were going haywire with at least four of the new werewolves, back around half-moon, but she got it into her head that maybe she could stop the process. Cause apparently, they were still sort of listening to her orders? I don¡¯t know, I didn¡¯t talk to her.¡±


    ¡°I take it that it didn¡¯t work?¡±


    ¡°They started attacking her yesterday,¡± Greg grumbled, then blinked. ¡°Was it just yesterday? Feels longer.¡±


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    ¡°Yesterday was the fight,¡± Thoko said. ¡°I don¡¯t know when they started attacking.¡±


    ¡°Right. Must have been sometime in the morning,¡± Greg said. ¡°So Bernadette came to warn me. I was out with the workers at the building site. They continued the work till afternoon, left a little early, and the four of us escorted them back. That¡¯s when they came at us, while we secured the workmen¡¯s formation.¡±


    ¡°So it was four against four?¡± David asked. ¡°And they still made such a mess of you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Greg shook himself. ¡°It was Nathan and I against three of them. The last one picked the other flank. Of the trail, I mean. He ran off when he saw Boris.¡±


    ¡°Nathan went after him this morning,¡± Thoko added. ¡°I don¡¯t know if he¡¯ll catch up though. Right around the camp, there¡¯s no more Rot, but we don¡¯t know how big the secure area is.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± David sighed.


    ¡°Are you going to go after him?¡± Thoko asked.


    ¡°Have to, don¡¯t I?¡± David said. ¡°Lane wanted to talk to someone official. I guess we¡¯ll leave as soon as she¡¯s back.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think Nathan can handle one werewolf on his own?¡± Thoko asked.


    David shrugged. ¡°Hunting alone is never a good idea. There¡¯s a reason why Lane is so famous for surviving it this long. And Nathan, well. He would be a great hunter if he wasn¡¯t reckless to a fault.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re all doing here,¡± Greg said quietly. ¡°Isn¡¯t that ¨C isn¡¯t that the duke over there?¡±


    David glanced over towards the camp¡¯s gates. Sure enough, George Louis had just entered with the man in the rumpled suit.


    ¡°Looks like Brown is giving him the tour,¡± Thoko said. She was glaring at the pair of them.


    ¡°Brown is the guy who looks like he slept in his suit?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Yes. He always looks like that,¡± Greg added. ¡°What¡¯s the duke doing here?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, either,¡± David said. ¡°He said something about inspecting the progress himself. I reckon he¡¯ll want to see your building site, too. Probably with Lane and me as guards.¡±


    ¡°Since when is it ¡®Lane¡¯ anyway, and not deLande?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Since we¡¯re officially courting, I suppose,¡± David said.


    The look on Greg¡¯s face was pure gold, he had to admit.


    ¡°What?¡± his little brother managed after a few seconds. ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right?¡±


    ¡°I actually had to earn the privilege,¡± David grinned. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll tell you the details later,¡± he added because Greg continued to stare at him. When David glanced sideways to Mr. Higgins, Greg nodded slowly.


    ¡°You better,¡± he grumbled. ¡°But there she is,¡± he added. ¡°With Captain Reed, great.¡±


    The man at Lane¡¯s side, wearing a uniform much like the guards¡¯, was already walking towards George Louis and the one Thoko had called Mr. Brown. His salute would have made any drill sergeant proud.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem overly fond of him,¡± David noted.


    ¡°He had been warned about the four behaving oddly and didn¡¯t think to inform anyone but his own men,¡± Greg grumbled. ¡°Not even Nathan.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± David said. ¡°Looks like we showed up just after all the fun is over. Lane and I¡¯ll speak to him about the matter, once we¡¯re back,¡± he added. ¡°Maybe he¡¯ll listen to a countess, even if he doesn¡¯t listen to common sense.¡±


    The captain wouldn¡¯t be the first person he came across in recent months to react that way.


    They watched in silence how the captain talked to the duke. David got the impression that he was just as surprised about George Louis¡¯s presence as everyone else.


    ¡°So ¨C uh, why are you here?¡± Greg asked, looking at Mr. Higgins.


    ¡°I wanted to come and see how you were doing, of course,¡± said Mr. Higgins. ¡°David contacted me about the situation, because I know someone with a printing press, and told me, well, pretty much everything that¡¯s been going on. And when Prof. Audenne ¨C you¡¯ll meet him shortly, I¡¯m sure ¨C decided he wanted to do a field trip out here to study how the Rot reacts to werewolves, well, I just invited myself along.¡±


    ¡°And the Church doesn¡¯t stop them?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°You really aren¡¯t up to date around here, are you?¡± Mr. Higgins asked, grinning, and then launched straight into a description of everything that had happened in the capital after the fight between the Morgulon, Fenn, and d¡¯Evier¡¯s Rot-creature. David listened with only one ear, keeping an eye on deLande and George Louis.


    It was probably a little narcissistic, but he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that George Louis was only out here today because he was, too.


    ¡°Please excuse me,¡± he said, as soon as Lane walked a few steps away from the group, and went over to join her.


    ¡°The captain of the garrison didn¡¯t have much to add to what we already heard, but we can go after Nathan right now,¡± Lane reported.


    David nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said. He stopped at Greg¡¯s table, to let his brother know they were leaving again, and to promise that they would have time to talk once they were back.

 Chapter 43

    ¡°Which direction do you want to start?¡± Lane asked, as soon as they were out of the camp.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go towards the river,¡± David said. ¡°Greg says he and some other werewolves escorted a trail of workers on their way back from the building site when they were attacked. Three came at the flank of the truss he was guarding, the last one attacked from another direction. Nathan went after that last one.¡±


    The area where Greg and Nathan had fought against the three now dead werewolves was easy enough to find, and afterwards, it was just a matter of crossing the path the workers had trodden on their way to the bridge and look for tracks there.


    ¡°Is Greg all right?¡± Lane asked while they were looking out for traces of either Nathan or the werewolf he was after.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be, in a few days, I reckon,¡± David said. ¡°Did Morgulon ever talk about what that werewolf healing does to werewolf bites?¡±


    ¡°You mean when she talked at all?¡± Lane shook her head. ¡°No. She did seem kind of wary about fighting another werewolf, when we ran into a mad one, though. Or maybe that was just cause I was sitting on her back, who knows?¡±


    David grimaced. ¡°She¡¯s hard to read, for sure,¡± he agreed.


    ¡°There,¡± Lane said. When she pointed, David spotted the hoof marks, too. Iron shoed. As far as they knew, they and Nathan were the only people on horseback for miles, so they followed the trail. It soon met with a single werewolf trail, slightly older.


    ¡°Either truly mad or really, really stupid,¡± Lane stated after about an hour. They had circled the camp about halfway. If there weren¡¯t still trees on this side of the settlement, they would have been easily visible from up the walls.


    ¡°Truly dead, too.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s voice made them both jump a little in the saddle.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d heard hooves,¡± Nathan went on.


    He was on foot, waving to them. ¡°Come on, it¡¯s right behind those bushes there.¡±


    Behind the thicket he had pointed out, Nathan¡¯s horse was tied to a tree, and the dead werewolf lay on the ground. Nathan had obviously been in the process of taking off the pelt when he had heard them.


    ¡°I¡¯d hug you,¡± Nathan said, ¡°but I don¡¯t think you¡¯re too keen on that right now.¡±


    David rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m happy and surprised about your consideration.¡±


    Nathan was covered in blood, and dirt, and other grime. He grinned and went back to work on getting the pelt off. ¡°What are you doing here, anyway? I mean, besides babysitting me.¡±


    ¡°Babysitting scientists,¡± David said and explained what had brought them out to the camp, while Nathan finished skinning the werewolf.


    ¡°This one give you any trouble?¡± David asked, once he was finished, pointing at the carcass.


    ¡°Na,¡± Nathan said. ¡°I reckon he was a spreader in the making ¨C must have circled the settlement all night. He could have been fifty miles away by now, somewhere deep into Rot territory. Wasn¡¯t hard to take him out, either. Anyway, let¡¯s get back to camp. I wanna see how the last two of the young ones move into their cages, just to be sure.¡±


    David nodded. He wanted to watch, too, though mostly because he was worried about how Greg would be treated. Between Lane, Nathan, and him, he wasn¡¯t too worried about any more of the others going mad.


    He was a little surprised to see Nathan take his job as the only resident hunter around here so serious.


    Or maybe Nathan just wanted to see how Greg got on, too.


    They reached the gate of the settlement about half an hour later when the sun was already vanishing behind the trees. The guards waved them through, but interesting enough, nobody seemed particularly happy to see the werewolf pelt rolled up and tied to Nathan¡¯s saddle.


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    Why had Nathan taken that? As a form of proof, sure. But for that, the head would have sufficed. Could he even sell it? What noble, or merchant, would fork out the kind of cash that a werewolf pelt used to fetch now that living werewolves were so high in demand?


    Somebody siding with the Valoise, maybe. Or a devout Mithran.


    Had Nathan even considered these questions? Or had it just been habit to take the furs?


    Would it bother Greg to see them?


    David shook his head, annoyed with himself. He¡¯d just have to ask him.


    The captain sent his attendant for one of his corporals as soon as they entered his office. The man must have been close by because he entered and saluted just a minute later.


    ¡°Is this the right one, Corporal Myers?¡± the captain asked.


    Myers carefully unrolled the whole pelt, clearly looking for some kind of mark. Close to the belly, there were three nearly round black spots edging into the lighter fur. The corporal patted them lightly and straightened again.


    ¡°It¡¯s the right one, Captain,¡± he said.


    This was all a lot more thorough than David had expected, especially considering what Greg had told them about all the earlier blunders. Maybe they had learned from that? Or maybe everyone was on best behaviour because of the duke¡¯s visit?


    David looked around the office again. There were maps of the surrounding lands, with the trail the railway was supposed to take marked in, and a huge picture of a bridge, with a complicated and technical drawing underneath that David figured was probably the building plan, or whatever it was called. Also a huge roster with ¡°werewolf on duty¡± written on top. Three of the names there had already been crossed out.


    Greg was sitting at exactly the same spot as when they had left, alone by now, even though the drizzle had mostly stopped.


    ¡°That was fast,¡± Greg said. ¡°Will you join us for dinner?¡± he added. ¡°Thoko and Mr. Higgins are inside to see what they want. Not that there¡¯s much on offer.¡±


    He looked calmer than before, which surprised David, considering the moon was already rising.


    ¡°When will they make you leave the camp?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Sundown,¡± Greg said. ¡°About ¨C oh, another hour. Ito, he¡¯s on guard tonight, promised he¡¯ll let me back out of the cage if I can stay human until it gets fully dark, though. I guess that¡¯s something. I¡¯ll only have to spend one full night actually inside that way.¡±


    That explained the new calm a little, David guessed.


    ¡°Are you two really courting?¡± Greg asked, looking back and forth between him and Lane. Nathan sniggered, but Greg went on: ¡°Only, I thought I remember you...¡±


    Greg broke off. ¡°Oh,¡± he said. ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you did remember me kissing George Louis,¡± David said when Greg didn¡¯t say anything more.


    Greg blinked and glanced at Lane. ¡°Wait, what? That was him ¨C I mean ¨C the duke?¡± he asked, still looking at Lane.


    ¡°She knows,¡± David said. ¡°What do you remember?¡±


    ¡°Mostly, I remember Andrew yelling at Nathan and me to never ever say anything to anyone about you kissing guys,¡± Greg said, grimacing. ¡°I guess I didn¡¯t recognize who you were with. But seriously. Him? I¡¯d have thought you had better taste than that.¡±


    Lane and Nathan both laughed at that, and David smiled, too.


    ¡°Yeah, well, I was fifteen,¡± he said. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me all your choices at that age were great.¡±


    ¡°You were together for more than two years?¡± Lane asked promptly.


    David looked away. ¡°Not really. We weren¡¯t ¨C that steady, I guess.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but glance over his shoulder at the turn the discussion had taken, but he needn¡¯t have worried. There were more people about, now that the rain had let up, but they were keeping their distance.


    Except for Thoko and Mr. Higgins, who were coming over with plates. Thoko had one in each hand.


    ¡°I see your hunt was successful,¡± Mr. Higgins said.


    ¡°I am not eating with that thing on the table,¡± Thoko complained and tried to push the still bloody pelt away with her elbow, without losing hold of her plates. ¡°What did you even bring that for?¡±


    ¡°I thought it might shock Bernadette and pack,¡± Nathan said.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Thoko said. She looked a little uncertain as if she wasn¡¯t sure if she approved. Then her gaze wandered from the skin to Greg, before she raised one eyebrow at Nathan.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± he complained. ¡°Greg knows better than to get weirded out by something like that, right, Greg?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Greg said and reached for the plate Thoko was offering him. ¡°But it does stink of blood.¡±


    Nathan rolled his eyes and pulled the packet of fur down onto the ground.


    ¡°Where is the rest of the pack, anyway?¡± Nathan asked.


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Not far. They mostly entered the camp because I did, I think. They¡¯ll be there for the lock-up, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    The rest of the pack, Nathan had said. Like Greg was a part of it, David noted.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re still hungry,¡± Mr. Higgins noted when Greg dug in.


    ¡°Only cause it¡¯s your first full moon with him,¡± Nathan said. ¡°He¡¯ll eat more than Andrew during those three days, and that¡¯s saying something.¡±


    Greg finished his plate quickly, pushing it away before getting up from his seat. The wild look was back on his face, a little like barely controlled fury, with an edge of fear to his restlessly shifting gaze. He walked a few steps away from their table, then returned, looking back and forth between them.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll be outside,¡± he said slowly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with you, if you¡¯d like,¡± David offered. Greg was nodding before he¡¯d finished speaking.

 Chapter 44

    ¡°Which one is Ito?¡± David asked quietly, as they passed through the still wide-open gates of the camp.


    Greg looked around. ¡°Don¡¯t think he¡¯s on duty yet,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°They change when the gates close.¡±


    David ran a hand over the bars of one of the huge cages Greg was supposed to spend the next hours in. It didn¡¯t even have some straw or anything to make it a little more comfortable while he was human. And he could only see two cages, one on either side of the gates.


    ¡°How many werewolves are still around?¡± he asked after a moment.


    ¡°Six,¡± Greg said. ¡°There¡¯re cages on each wall of the camp.¡±


    He started walking up and down across the path leading to the train station.


    ¡°I hate full moon,¡± he muttered after a while, but other than that, they didn¡¯t speak. There was nothing to say, really. David would have liked to hear more about this pack that had been mentioned several times, but he had a feeling that Greg didn¡¯t want to talk about them right now.


    They hadn¡¯t been out long when a single werewolf walked up to the gates, already in his wolf form: a huge beast with an unusually light brown, almost sand-coloured coat.


    ¡°Boris,¡± Greg said through gritted teeth.


    David wasn¡¯t sure if that was supposed to be a greeting or information for him. ¡°Big guy,¡± he said noncommittally.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°Funny, cause as a human he¡¯s kinda small.¡±


    ¡°Part of the pack?¡±


    Greg nodded and eyed the other werewolf nervously. Boris had halted about fifteen yards away from them, on the other side of the path. He wasn¡¯t looking at Greg though. He was staring at David, wide-eyed and panting. After a second, he turned around and ran away.


    ¡°You don¡¯t like each other?¡± David asked.


    Greg huffed and shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t know,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I thought we were friends. Reckon that was my mistake though.¡± He paused and added: ¡°But why would he run away?"


    ¡°Probably scared of me,¡± David said and stared after the other werewolf. He hoped things would work out here. Greg had never really had that many friends of his own, and especially not of his own age and peer group. Of course, David had no idea what age ¡°Boris¡± was as a human. But he was still likely to be closer to an equal of Greg¡¯s than Mr. Higgins was these days, wasn¡¯t he?


    David couldn¡¯t help but wonder what exactly had happened between Greg and this pack, but Greg was already so agitated that he decided to ask him later.


    After a while, Boris returned to wait but made no move to come closer. In fact, he kept the cage between them the whole time. Greg started pacing back and forth again, now alongside the short road to the station, instead of across it.


    Right before the sun vanished completely, a row of six guards walked through the still open gates: four of them carried halberds that looked like they were silver-tipped. The last two each held a big key. The guards with the halberds watched over their backs while the two with the keys each opened one of the cages.


    Greg nodded towards the guy with the key who had opened his door for him.


    ¡°Midnight, remember,¡± the man said, and then turned to look at David: ¡°Are you going to stay out here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep him company,¡± David affirmed.


    ¡°Okay,¡± the man said. ¡°We can¡¯t let you back inside, though, till sunrise.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± David shrugged. ¡°Mind if I build a fire?¡±


    The guard gave him a strange look. ¡°Do as you like out here,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°Just don¡¯t set anything important on fire.¡±


    Boris whined softly, already inside his cage.


    Greg entered his own cage slowly, clearly reluctant. ¡°This is going to be fun,¡± he grumbled.


    David sat down on the ground while Ito locked the cage after him. After a few seconds, Greg followed his example. He sighed deeply and leaned his forehead against the bars.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said quietly after a moment.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t Nathan stay with you like this?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Never spent a night in these cages,¡± Greg said.


    David waited a few seconds, and Greg did explain: ¡°The other camps aren¡¯t like this. We always spent full moon out in the forest.¡±


    David eyed him carefully in the gloom. Greg was shaking, visibly struggling. Even more than he when they had last gone through this. Of course, that had been in the drawing room of Heron Hall, not a cage.


    ¡°Do you want me to keep talking or keep quiet?¡± David asked after a few seconds.


    ¡°Tell me ¨C tell me more about you and Lane,¡± Greg muttered through gritted teeth. ¡°I mean ¨C what the hell?¡±


    David smiled wryly. ¡°It was her idea,¡± he said and began to explain all about how George Louis had threatened her, how the same threat, though unspoken, hung over his own head.


    At first, David was worried about the other werewolf, just a few yards away from them, catching his voice, but Boris was pacing in his cage and throwing himself against the bar, growling almost incessantly. Even if he did hear anything about the noise he was making, David had no doubt that he wouldn¡¯t remember any of it the next morning. And no guard would hear him over that racket.


    ¡°You said,¡± Greg managed through his clenched teeth, ¡°you said you won this.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± David said, grinning. ¡°Let me get some wood,¡± he added.


    ¡°Keep talking?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Sure,¡± David said. ¡°See, Lane has a lot of nobles hoping for her favour. There¡¯s her land, her title, the fame, and let¡¯s face it, she¡¯s not exactly ugly, either.¡±


    There were splinters of wood and larger pieces from when the palisades had been built all around them. He picked up a handful of smaller logs, and went on: ¡°There¡¯s Count deVale, for example, some viscounts, too. Much higher ranking than me, in any case. So if Lane had just announced that her mourning period is over, I¡¯d have pretty much had to get in line.


    So instead, Lane claimed that she¡¯d only accept courtship from a man who could beat her at hunting,¡± David continued. ¡°Like in the legends.¡±


    ¡°Atalante,¡± Greg whispered.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± David said. ¡°So she made an announcement at the Flower Dance.¡±


    ¡°Classy,¡± Greg chuckled darkly.


    ¡°Quite so,¡± David said, and pulled out his lighter. Even after the rain earlier today, it wasn¡¯t too hard to get the fire going. ¡°And then we all gathered the next day at the edge of the Royal Forests ¨C all the interested guys and Lane ¨C and we went to hunt a lynx. I mean, I hunted a lynx. DeVale came back with a fox, but anyway, that made it sort of official and kept everyone else out of our business.¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°Mind you, we probably could have saved ourselves the trouble, since d¡¯Evier raised the Rot just a day later. I reckon after that most people have lost interest in the gossip anyway.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t count on it,¡± Greg said, stretching out his hands between the bars, to get closer to the fire David was building. ¡°Werewolves are strange and scary. I bet lots of people prefer a good old fashioned scandal like the countess running off into the forest with some baron¡¯s son.¡±


    David grinned at that. ¡°Yeah, you might be right about that,¡± he said. ¡°Anyway, now it¡¯s official.¡±


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    In the cage next to them, Boris threw his head back and howled, and for a second, David was sure Greg would lose it. He could see Greg¡¯s hands starting to shift in the firelight, fingers shortening, palms growing longer.


    ¡°Mum?¡± Greg asked, eyes closed. ¡°Dad?¡±


    ¡°Oh, they¡¯re fine,¡± David said. ¡°Dad and Andrew are in Deva right now, if they didn¡¯t go back to Courtenay already.¡±


    ¡°Tell them?¡± Greg interrupted.


    ¡°Did I tell them? I told Dad. Most of it, in any case. Andrew already knew about me and George Louis, but he and Dad were there when Lane challenged her suitors to the hunt. So yes, they know.¡±


    ¡°The duke,¡± Greg prompted him to keep talking. ¡°How did that...¡±


    ¡°Happen?¡± David guessed when Boris howled again and Greg broke off.


    Greg shook his head. ¡°End,¡± he managed after a few seconds. ¡°You ¨C don¡¯t like him. Now.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± David sighed. He would have preferred to think about that answer a little longer, but Greg was staring at him anxiously. ¡°Remember how I told you that George had two of my friends killed to become duke?¡±


    Greg nodded.


    ¡°Lester and Clarence,¡± David said, staring into the flames. ¡°George handed them to the Inquisition on a silver platter. Then he watched, while they got stoned. I have no idea, how he could... They were his friends, too, I thought.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Why did he do it? I can only guess. There was a rumour, back then,¡± David added. ¡°Supposedly ¨C well, see, this all happened ten years ago. George Louis had just returned from his stint at fighting the Kujawen tribes in the east, back when he was still Marquess of Mannin, not Duke. He only stayed at the border there for a few months, but he always knew how to make friends, and he managed to make it look like he was this really efficient military leader, loyal to the Empire, and all that. And the Roi Solei, well, I guess he fell for it. I¡¯m sure he only made George Louis a duke because he was hoping to get a better hold on the northern regions of Loegrion, you see?¡±


    Greg nodded.


    ¡°In any case, rumour has it that the Church¡¯s higher-ups demanded proof of his loyalty to Mithras, and¡ªLester and Clarence, they were poets. Together, they founded this little ¡®reading circle,¡¯ as Lester called it. It wasn¡¯t really my thing.¡±


    He¡¯d been interested in neither poetry nor the politics.


    ¡°You know these kinds of groups, don¡¯t you?¡± he added, looking at Greg. ¡°Handful of young nobles who write bad poetry and make each other suffer through it?¡±


    Greg nodded with enough vehemence at the description to make David smile.


    ¡°Well, except the one Lester and Clarence founded was a little different. They had put up some pretty successful amateur plays, so nobody thought anything about them founding a reading circle, but they didn¡¯t just draw in wannabe poets. Like I said, George Louis went there, too, and other people with even wilder dreams. You see, what Lester and Clarence were best at, really, was satire. Especially about the Church and the Roi Solei.¡±


    David took a deep breath. He still couldn¡¯t quite believe the two of them had been foolish enough¡­


    ¡°That was what Lester and Clarence took to their little reading circle. I guess they were feeling pretty safe because Lester¡¯s family was quite powerful... So yeah. They could have stuck to the poetry and plays, but no. They read their lampoons there.¡±


    Greg shuddered in his cage.


    David poked the fire again. ¡°It didn¡¯t take long for word to get around. There¡¯s always someone who can¡¯t keep their mouth shut. Thing is, Lester¡¯s family really was influential. So much that the Church couldn¡¯t move against them with only hearsay to base their accusation on. So the rumour has it that the Church demanded that George Louis testify against Lester and Clarence, or they would oppose his promotion.¡±


    ¡°And he did.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t just testify, he handed over one of their texts to High Inquisitor d¡¯Evier, too. It¡¯s pretty hard to argue against your own handwriting. So Lester and Clarence were sentenced for blasphemy, l¨¨se-majest¨¦, profanity, and anything else the Church could make stick.¡±


    David grimaced. ¡°One of the charges was sodomy, rather ironically, since Lester and Clarence weren¡¯t actually together, or even interested in guys.¡±


    David took a deep breath. ¡°George Louis on the other hand was crowned a duke,¡± he finished. ¡°He had the gall to apologise to me, afterwards. I told him where he could stick it and left Deva Castle. Managed to avoid him until Nathan and I ran into him while we were looking for you last year.¡±


    ¡°Think he was already planning to become king, back then?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said. ¡°From all I heard, everything he¡¯s done during those ten years had the only aim to further his influence here in Loegrion. And more people died when they got into his way.¡±


    Greg looked at him questioningly, head tilted like the Morgulon when she had a question.


    ¡°Who?¡± David shrugged. ¡°Aren¡¯t you the one who was supposed to go to parliament?¡±


    He grinned when Greg rolled his eyes at him.


    ¡°Yeah, I know, you were just a kid,¡± David added. ¡°Let¡¯s see. The first one to die¡ªeven before Lester and Clarence¡ªwas probably Lord Felton. Marquess Felton of Deeshire. He was the other guy who had a chance to become a duke here in Loegrion. He really was a military man, had spent years and years fighting at the eastern border. Most sadly, George Louis and his men didn¡¯t reach his emplacement fast enough, when the Kujawens threatened to overrun him.¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°It might have really been bad luck,¡± he added. ¡°But there¡¯s just a touch too much of it surrounding George for it to be nothing but luck, I think. After Marquess Felton, there were Lester and Clarence and a couple of other members of their little club, and next, there was George Louis¡¯s wife, Annabelle. Sure, it might have been just a normal fever that took her. But the timing was weird, you know? Most women who die in childbed do so soon after the kid is born, right? Not four months later. And considering that I¡¯m pretty sure George didn¡¯t love her... And she had already given him an heir.¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°As I said, maybe I¡¯m painting him a much worse devil than he is. But I know for sure he was behind the accusation of treason against Lord Stenton. Mind you, that wasn¡¯t a false accusation, but I mean¡ªGeorge Louis is way beyond committing treason at this point.¡±


    David sighed and poked his little fire. The wind was getting stronger, and more rain was in the air. ¡°Guess I shouldn¡¯t talk,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°How many innocent people did I kill?¡±


    He wished he hadn¡¯t voiced the thought, not with Greg fighting the monster inside himself so successfully. Thinking of all the werewolves David had killed probably wouldn¡¯t help him keeping calm.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t do it for power,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°No, I did it for money,¡± David laughed darkly. ¡°Much more noble.¡±


    ¡°Do you know?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Know what?¡±


    ¡°Any that were sane, for sure.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David sighed. ¡°We really didn¡¯t take those contracts. But how much difference does that even make? Innocent till proven guilty, and all that? But not when I¡®m on your trail, then it¡¯s the other way round?¡±


    ¡°You going to stop?¡± Greg wanted to know.


    David stared into the darkness. A few heavy drops were starting to fall, but he hardly noticed. ¡°I have no idea what I¡¯d do with myself if I did,¡± he said after a moment.


    ¡°Good,¡± Greg said quietly.


    David turned around to stare at him in surprise. ¡°Good?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re making more werewolves, aren¡¯t they?¡± Greg whispered. ¡°And then they send them here, and then some of them go mad. And I don¡¯t...¡± He buried his face in his arms. ¡°I never want to do that again,¡± he whispered.


    ¡°We can probably hang around,¡± David said slowly. ¡°Until they¡¯ve sent you reinforcements, I mean. Don¡¯t know if we can stay for four months, though.¡± He frowned. ¡°On the other hand, I¡¯m sure Lane will want to check on Morgulon. Maybe we¡¯ll go back and forth for a while. We¡¯re supposed to look for other elder werewolves, maybe we¡¯ll get something out of Morgulon.¡±


    Greg¡¯s head snapped up. ¡°How do you know...¡±


    David looked at him surprised. ¡°Know what?¡± he asked. ¡°That werewolves can somehow sense each other? Fenn talked about it. And then we asked Lee about it, and he said it was another thing that gets stronger with age. Why?¡±


    Greg bit his lips. ¡°Bernadette said¡ªbut I¡¯m not supposed to tell anyone...¡±


    He rubbed his face. ¡°The Morgulon visits the other elders,¡± he muttered after a while. ¡°Those that live in the mountains, and beyond Mannin,¡± he added. ¡°But humans are not supposed to know, I guess. That¡¯s why she hasn¡¯t told anybody about it. Maybe she thinks it should be their choice or something like that.¡±


    ¡°It should be their choice,¡± David said. ¡°Especially since it doesn¡¯t look like George is going to be reasonable about this.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°About treating werewolves as anything but animals,¡± David grumbled.


    Greg looked a little confused. ¡°It¡¯s fine out here,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like in the cities, of course, but the navvies all seem to have gotten used to having us around. Even Captain Reed. Maybe even a little too much, in his case,¡± Greg added. ¡°It¡¯s more like we¡¯re specialists. Foreign specialists, you might say, with weird rituals they can¡¯t really make sense of, but vital to the whole endeavour, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± David said.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you quit earlier?¡± Greg asked suddenly. ¡°You could have gone to university, too, court, something. I mean, if you knew it was wrong.¡±


    David poked the fire again, which was guttering in the rain. Heavy drops ran down his face, and he blinked them out of his eyes.


    ¡°I thought about it,¡± he said finally. ¡°While George Louis and I were¡ªwell, not courting. But seeing each other. I considered staying with him. But then I had to get out, and... at first, I was scared, scared that George would turn me over to the Inquisition, too. Hunting took me away from people, into areas where the Church doesn¡¯t reach. And¡ªwell. It¡¯s so much easier to forget that what you¡¯re doing is wrong when you¡¯re welcomed, no, worshipped like a hero everywhere you go.


    And anyway, I didn¡¯t want to go back to court, I¡¯m not really the merchant or scholarly type, and fighting for the Empire against some far-away people seemed no more justified than killing werewolves.¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°The first time I ever wondered about quitting again was when Andrew said he would. Six weeks later you got bitten, and here we are.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too bad Andrew never did get to go to university in all this mess,¡± Greg sighed.


    ¡°At least he¡¯s got a chance to do so later,¡± David said. He stared up into the black sky. There was no moon visible up there, no stars. ¡°Must be close to midnight,¡± he said. ¡°Can¡¯t be sure in this weather, of course.¡±


    Greg sighed. ¡°Should have brought some food,¡± he said.


    David watched him carefully. He looked tired by now rather than agitated. Boris in the other cage was still fighting against his prison, but Greg seemed to be better able to keep his shape than earlier.


    ¡°Maybe we can find some shelter in the woods, once they let you out,¡± David offered.


    If someone really would leave the safety of the camp to free Greg.

 Chapter 45

    Not much later, however, the gate opened a little bit, and a man sneeked out. David could only guess that it was Ito, it was much too dark to recognize him. He opened the lock quickly, and whispered: ¡°Good luck,¡± before hurrying back inside.


    Greg left the cage slowly, stretching and yawning. ¡°Can we walk a little?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m all cramped up.¡±


    David nodded and extinguished his fire. Not that there was much risk of it getting out of control in this weather. Much less risk than Greg losing control.


    Greg covered his ears with his hands, wrapping his arms around his head when in the distance another werewolf howled. He swayed in place as if he was considering going back into his cage.


    ¡°Bernadette,¡± he groaned softly.


    ¡°Does that make it harder?¡± David asked. ¡°That she¡¯s an elder?¡±


    Greg nodded and started walking, almost running. David could hear his laboured breathing as he followed his youngest brother into the darkness underneath the trees.


    ¡°I hate full moon,¡± Greg muttered, once there were trees all around them. ¡°Hate it, hate it, hate it!¡±


    He kept pushing forward, away from the camp, much faster than was sensible in the dark. They were both stumbling over branches and other unseen obstacles on the ground. David could hardly make out Greg¡¯s moving shape, followed the sound more than his eyes.


    Behind them, there was still a werewolf howling. David wondered if it was Bernadette again, or someone else.


    After a while, Greg slowed down, but he never stopped moving forward, until finally the very first hint of pre-dawn light filtered through the trees.


    ¡°Moon is setting,¡± he sighed, and let himself drop to the ground on the spot.


    ¡°And you want to go to sleep here?¡± David asked. He was tired, too, but the wet leaves on the forest floor were not exactly inviting.


    ¡°No,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°Just don¡¯t want to walk anymore.¡± He did sit up again, rubbing his face. ¡°Where are we, anyway?¡±


    David turned back the way they had been going. ¡°I¡¯d reckon a few miles east of the camp. It¡¯s hard to judge how far we got in the dark.¡±


    Greg started on a moan that turned into a yawn halfway through. ¡°Let¡¯s wait till we can actually see?¡± he asked when he could talk again.


    ¡°Fine,¡± David said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re not tired?¡± Greg grumbled. ¡°We walked all night.¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m tired,¡± David said. ¡°Not too bad, though,¡± he added. ¡°Not my first night of walking through the forest. Also, I don¡¯t have to deal with the moon phase.¡±


    Greg nodded, the movement visible by now. ¡°Sorry to drag you out here,¡± he said after a moment.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± David said. This was his fault, after all. In a way, at least.


    He wanted to ask Greg whether he regretted what had happened. He didn¡¯t seem resentful, or even particularly sad about the turn his life had taken ¨C but there were some things Nathan had written, just little side remarks usually, that made David wonder.


    Right now, though, Greg just looked exhausted, so he kept his mouth shut and an eye and ear on their surroundings.


    They started walking again when the sun filtered through underneath the rainclouds, tinting the forest gold for a few moments before the clouds covered it again. Greg was dragging his feet, and David couldn¡¯t stop himself from teasing: ¡°You know, I¡¯m supposed to be the old man here.¡±


    Greg just yawned at him again.


    They still made it back to camp within a couple of hours, much faster than when they had stumbled through the darkness. The gates were wide open again, and nobody challenged them when they entered. Greg headed straight for the pub.


    Did he live there?


    But Greg walked right up to the counter to ask the woman there for breakfast.


    ¡°Full moon makes the best customers,¡± the woman said, grinning, holding out a hand.


    Greg rummaged around his pockets and came up with a couple of copper pennies, looking disappointed.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it,¡± David said quickly. He dropped a coin onto the counter, and for the first time, he saw Greg flinch away from the silver. His little brother caught himself quickly and pulled up a seat to sit at the counter right next to the coin, though.


    ¡°And what can I get for you?¡± the woman asked, looking at David.


    ¡°Whatever he¡¯s having,¡± David said, nodding at Greg.


    That turned out to be a rather enormous portion of bacon and eggs, with some bread at the side. David let Greg finish his plate. The workers were just waking up when they left the pub again. Greg led the way over to the barracks. For a moment he seemed undecided, but then picked one of the small, hastily erected buildings. Nathan¡¯s, as it turned out. Their brother was just getting dressed.


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    ¡°Back already?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°Bed¡¯s all yours,¡± he added. ¡°Oh, wait.¡±


    He walked out in nothing but his trousers, and was back within a couple of minutes, with another straw mattress like the one on his bed, and blankets, too. He dropped it straight onto the ground in front of the bed.


    ¡°That¡¯ll work,¡± David said. He hadn¡¯t looked forward to sleeping on the naked ground, and there was no way he and Greg could share the far too narrow bed.


    Nathan finished dressing quickly. ¡°See you at lunch,¡± he said and was gone.


    Greg did wake up just in time for a late lunch, and David followed him back to the pub. There was a mess hall, too, David learned, but the food at the pub was better, according to Greg. Prof. Audenne joined them at their table, bugging Greg with his questions for nearly an hour before he settled into just watching and taking notes on Greg¡¯s behaviour. They saw nothing of the other werewolves guarding the camp until it was once again time for Greg to step into his cage. This time, he took his clothes off and wrapped himself into an old blanket, to wait for the moon to rise.


    Prof. Audenne insisted on following when David and Nathan together settled in to wait it out. He wanted to know everything, every minor detail, about the previous night and was very eager to be there for the third night of full moon, too.


    ¡°If I¡¯d known it was possible to watch like this, I¡¯d have been here yesterday,¡± he said, seriously upset that nobody had invited him.


    David had never actually watched Greg go through the full moon-transformation, though he¡¯d heard him do it a couple of times in the ice house. Maybe it was just his expectation, but it seemed a lot more violent to him than Greg¡¯s usual transformations. Slower than he had expected, too. Audenne measured the time, and it took more than a minute for Greg¡¯s body to tear itself apart and rearrange itself.


    And then all the werewolves began to howl at exactly the same moment, all around the camp.


    ¡°Oh, look, the pack is back,¡± Nathan said. ¡°I wonder if Greg will turn human at sunrise.¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t he?¡± David asked.


    ¡°No idea. He just didn¡¯t, when he ran with the pack. Remained a wolf from sundown on the first night of full moon until the morning after the third. Behaved much more like a wolf, too. He says he doesn¡¯t remember anything about it. It drove Thoko mad when he ran around with Fleur.¡±


    Prof. Audenne asked about the pack before David could, and Nathan explained about it, but David felt he was keeping it more general than he would have if it had been just the two of them.


    Greg did turn human, late in the morning, after sleeping a while in his wolf form. Boris and the others stayed wolf. Prof. Audenne had gone to bed by then, but another one of the scientists was there to take note and mark down the time. By the third night, Greg was too tired to fight against the transformation. When the other werewolves started howling once more in a chorus, he lost control over his shape. Prof. Audenne seemed delighted at this new discovery.


    ¡°I wonder if the Morgulon could force another werewolf to transform on a night that isn¡¯t full moon,¡± he noted. ¡°Maybe we could move on towards one of the more advanced camps in a month or two?¡±


    ¡°Suits me fine,¡± David said. ¡°I¡¯ll ask Lane what she thinks. But I doubt she¡¯ll mind.¡±


    Staying up all night had another advantage: It gave David an excuse to sleep most of the day, which made it easy to avoid George Louis. David didn¡¯t see him for the first three days, and the camp truly wasn¡¯t big.


    It was too good to last, of course.


    David, Lane, Nathan, and the whole group of scientists rode out with the workers the second morning after full moon was over. Greg walked on foot with the engineers who supervised the build. The other werewolves hadn¡¯t come into camp at all since David and Lane had arrived. David couldn¡¯t help but wonder if that was still about the disagreement with Greg, or if they stayed away because two more hunters had arrived.


    Maybe Audenne and his colleagues would find an answer while they studied the pack.


    As hunters, David, Lane, and Nathan didn¡¯t have anything to do besides standing around. There was no danger left here. It gave David plenty of time to watch the strange choreography playing out around them: Bernadette and pack showed little interest in being studied, moving into the forest when one of the scientists came closer than a couple of hundred yards, returning when the scientists backed off. They never really abandoned their guard duty, though. At least one of them was always in sight, right at the edge of the trees. Watching Greg, as far as David could tell.


    An hour before noon, he was distracted by the new, small group arriving on horseback: George Louis, with Mr. Brown and two soldiers attending him. They circled the building site once, then left their horses with the field kitchen. On foot, George Louis walked amongst the sweating workmen, who were often toiling shirtless in the humid heat as they lay the bricks that would form the base for the pylons on which the bridge would rest.


    David rolled his eyes when the duke offered one of the men a drink from his own water bottle. Sure, the guy was handsome, but still. One could take the whole ¡°I¡¯m just one of the blokes¡± theatrics too far.


    George Louis moved on to talk to the engineers. He looked at the construction plans and diagrams like they meant something to him, nodding along as they explained. He stayed with them until the lunch break for the workmen started, which he used to sit down with more of them, eating the same food as they did. David was surprised that he hadn¡¯t brought a reporter to tell the rest of Loegrion what a kind and caring employer he was. When the duke finished eating, he got up again, to talk to even more men, slowly making his way over to where David was sitting with Greg, Thoko, Nathan, and Lane.


    David rolled his eyes again.


    He had to admit, he was a little surprised when the duke sat down in their little circle uninvited, and began the conversation by addressing Greg of all people:


    ¡°I see you pulled through full moon all right.¡±


    Greg nearly dropped his bowl. ¡°Yes, Your Highness,¡± he said, and then looked over at David as if waiting for instructions on how he should handle this. David just shrugged, and after a moment, Greg added: ¡°It¡¯s routine by now, even if the cages are new.¡±


    George Louis frowned. ¡°You don¡¯t use them at other camps?¡±


    ¡°No, their walls are enough to keep a werewolf out,¡± Greg explained. ¡°They¡¯re more worried about the Rot, right at the banks of the Savre.¡±


    ¡°So it hasn¡¯t retreated there as much as here?¡±


    ¡°No, Your Highness. It keeps coming down the river and out of the swamps. I expect it¡¯s worse, now, too, with only the Morgulon as an elder.¡±


    George Louis continued to ask Greg about the more forward lying camps, acting like he was talking to a human, too. David had to admit it was a pretty good act, though he was willing to bet good money that George Louis was only pretending because he was sitting right here. Only when the break was over, did the duke turn to David, as if it was an afterthought.


    ¡°Will you be busy tonight?¡± he asked. ¡°I have some questions regarding the introduction of new werewolves here in the future. I take it there have been issues that could have been avoided?¡±


    That was one way to put it.


    ¡°When?¡± David asked.


    ¡°I thought we could discuss the matter at dinner.¡±


    What a surprise.


    ¡°Fine,¡± David said.


    ¡°Dinner it is,¡± George Louis said, altogether too gleeful, and walked off, to watch the men get back to work.


    ¡°Want me to come along?¡± Lane asked.


    David considered it but then shook his head. It probably wouldn¡¯t help with the innuendos, anyway. ¡°Better to just get it over with.¡±

 Chapter 46

    So at dinnertime, David walked over from the barrack where he was staying with Greg. It used to be the pack¡¯s, but since the other werewolves weren¡¯t coming into camp anymore, David saw no point of sleeping on the floor in Nathan¡¯s tiny room.


    George Louis, of course, had been put up in one of the bigger quarters, where usually twelve guards slept on narrow beds. Unlike the soldiers, George Louis had a proper wardrobe, placed so that it divided the room into two halves. On the side furthest from the door stood the bed ¨C David was willing to bet that George Louis did not sleep on straw ¨C and even a vanity with a mirror and a stand for a washing basin on top. The other half of the room had both a desk and a round table with three chairs, an ornate longcase clock, and a bookcase. The furniture had clearly been brought here by train; it was much more polished than the roughly hewn beds and tables in the rest of the barracks that were assembled in camp from the trees the workers felled.


    ¡°Please, come in,¡± George Louis said when David paused in surprise at the door. The duke was seated at the desk, which caught the light from the small window.


    ¡°Dinner will be served shortly,¡± George Louis continued. ¡°Can I offer you something to drink?¡±


    David stepped forward. ¡°Sure,¡± he said and looked around the room again. The walls had been whitewashed, and a drawing of the proposed bridge hung above the table. It looked a little forlorn.


    ¡°It¡¯s not much,¡± George Louis said, misinterpreting his frown.


    ¡°Not much. Right.¡±


    George Louis eyed him quizzically. ¡°Please, have a seat,¡± he said before the silence could stretch.


    David sighed inwardly and took one of the chairs at the table. George Louis rapped at the wall behind the table, before he sat down, too. He hadn¡¯t righted his chair, before the door opened and an elderly man entered, carrying a tray with glasses and a carafe of wine.


    ¡°You dragged Wilfred all the way out here?¡± David asked once the old man had left again. ¡°Isn¡¯t he a little old for such travels?¡±


    ¡°He wanted to come,¡± George Louis defended himself. ¡°Said he wanted to see if the Rot could really be beaten.¡±


    David picked up his wineglass but didn¡¯t drink. The delicate crystal seemed terribly out of place, just like everything else. As if, by crossing the threshold, he had stepped from the camp straight into some hotel room in Deva.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± George Louis asked. ¡°You don¡¯t like the vintage?¡±


    David smiled wryly at that. Why was he even surprised? ¡°The vintage is fine,¡± he said. ¡°I guess I didn¡¯t consider that this is your own company.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, of course, they know to make arrangements when their boss comes to visit.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you mean the room? I did tell them to put me up just like everyone else.¡±


    David burst out laughing at that. ¡°You¡¯d have just turned around and gone right back to Eoforwic if they had.¡±


    ¡°I have been to war, you know. I can stand a little discomfort.¡±


    ¡°Sure you can. A little.¡±


    ¡°Tell you what: We can switch rooms tonight.¡±


    David raised his eyebrows at that. ¡°You¡¯d sleep right next to a werewolf, would you?¡±


    George Louis looked away. ¡°Gregory, yes?¡±


    David nodded. He could see pride and fear war on the duke¡¯s face. ¡°Greg, yes,¡± he said aloud and decided not to take this too far. He had no intention to sleep in George Louis¡¯s bed. That would only give him ideas. ¡°And I don¡¯t think he¡¯d appreciate this bet.¡±


    George Louis couldn¡¯t quite hide his relief.


    ¡°Speaking of werewolves,¡± David continued. ¡°You said you wanted my advice?¡±


    As soon as he said that, the door opened again, and Wilfred returned with a younger man, both carrying trays with platters and bowls full of food. They put down their burden and filled plates for them, and then left again.


    David could have sworn that Wilfred winked at him.


    At least, George Louis didn¡¯t try to tell him that the food was the standard rations the guards and work crews got.


    ¡°The werewolves, right,¡± the duke came back to the pretext for this dinner without David needing to remind him again. ¡°Well, it just seemed like a waste, losing four of them like that. Even if they were only ¨C new. Isn¡¯t there a better way?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± David said. ¡°They did try, actually,¡± he added. ¡°Bernadette, the elder werewolf of this camp, hoped she could stop the madness and allowed the situation to get way out of hand in the process. But in the end, the young ones attacked her, too.¡±


    ¡°So we just wait it out?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°Basically,¡± he said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t repeat what happened here, though. You either need to employ more hunters to deal with those going mad, or you keep the convicts at the prison after they got bitten until you know for sure.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think that will affect the outcome?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± David admitted. ¡°Have Prof. Audenne do a study. But here¡¯s the problem: When werewolves fight each other, only strength matters. The mad ones are perfectly capable of killing or permanently crippling an elder werewolf. It was extremely lucky that Greg is big, even for a werewolf, and managed to stop three of them before they got through to Bernadette.¡±


    ¡°I take it you want to stay here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about it,¡± David said.


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    ¡°Too bad Bernadette didn¡¯t succeed,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Do you think there¡¯s any point in having the Morgulon try?¡±


    David shook his head. ¡°I mean, we can ask, since Lane and I are here,¡± he added. ¡°We¡¯re going to visit the Morgulon anyway. But I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll work. If she could stop it, don¡¯t you think there would be a lot fewer mad werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Only if she knows that she can stop the madness,¡± George Louis pointed out.


    ¡°No, I meant ¨C there were werewolves before the Valoise invaded, right? Probably some elders, too. If it was possible for them to stop the madness, wouldn¡¯t our ancestors have defeated the Valoise and the Rot long ago?¡±


    ¡°Only if the Werewolves fought with the Loegrians,¡± George Louis disagreed. ¡°Who knows how long they have been hunted?¡±


    ¡°I thought they hardly get hunted, beyond the Church¡¯s reach,¡± David replied.


    It was a rather pointless argument ¨C after all, very little was known about what Loegrion had been like before the Rot. He didn¡¯t try to end the discussion, though. At least this was an innocuous enough topic.


    Eventually, though, the duke asked: ¡°How did your family react when they found out about you and deLande?¡±


    ¡°They understand,¡± David just said. At least, he hoped that his mother would. They hadn¡¯t talked about the matter yet.


    ¡°They don¡¯t think it¡¯s an overreaction?¡±


    David sighed. He knew where this was going. George Louis wanted to know if he still didn¡¯t trust him. So, instead of answering the question, he asked: ¡°Did you have Annabelle killed?¡±


    He had expected denial, of course, and outrage, pretended or real. What he hadn¡¯t expected was the look of hurt and defeat on the duke¡¯s face. He caught himself quickly, reaching for his wine glass.


    ¡°That¡¯s what you think of me?¡± George Louis finally asked. When David didn¡¯t say anything, he shook his head and laughed hollowly. ¡°I guess I shouldn¡¯t be surprised.¡±


    ¡°You did work hard for it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, stop it!¡± George Louis was glaring at him now. ¡°Clarence and Lester were idiots! It was just a matter of time until the Church found someone to testify against them.¡±


    ¡°But the Inquisition did find you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly the same as murder! Of my own wife, too!¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t love her.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t love Lane, either, and I¡¯d never ask you if you had a hand in it should a werewolf get to her!¡±


    David shrugged and continued eating. ¡°I suppose you and I have very different ideas of what is ¡®hardly the same as murder¡¯.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± George Louis growled. ¡°Do you even know how many you have killed?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David admitted. ¡°I have no idea.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡¯s the big difference between us?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying there is much of a difference,¡± David said.


    ¡°But you don¡¯t trust me.¡±


    David shrugged again. ¡°About as much as a werewolf would trust me, I reckon. Funny, that you even bring that up, considering you don¡¯t think of werewolves as real people. At least I wouldn¡¯t blame a werewolf for hating me.¡±


    ¡°So you do hate me.¡±


    It was a statement, not a question. David thought about it for a moment, anyway. ¡°I used to,¡± he said.


    ¡°And these days?¡±


    David sighed. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, one way or the other. You asked what the difference between us is? I¡¯m a hunter. When I¡¯m on a trail, I follow it to the end. You? You¡¯re a collector. You only want me because I¡¯m not available to you right now. As soon as you win me over, you¡¯ll lose interest again.¡±


    George Louis frowned. ¡°Is there someone else?¡± he wanted to know, almost as if David hadn¡¯t spoken at all.


    David considered lying, making up a boyfriend at Courtenay, or something, but then shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t take the risk again,¡± he said.


    ¡°So ¨C your plan is to spend the rest of your life alone.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t planned that far ahead,¡± David gave back. ¡°And there¡¯s no point in making plans now. We haven¡¯t even survived the first attack of the Valoise. Ask me again five years from now, and maybe I¡¯ll have an answer for you. Anyway ¨C your plans have to be far more interesting than mine. How are you going to beat back the Empire?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m so interested in seeing if the Morgulon can stop other werewolves from going mad,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Ideally, we should have one werewolf in every town, village, and garrison along the coast, with elder ones at strategic places. But it¡¯s a very slow process. The scientists who document all the convicts and volunteers who get bitten ¨C¡°


    ¡°Volunteers?¡± David interrupted him.


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± George Louis said. ¡°A werewolf bite cures all other illnesses, didn¡¯t you write that yourself in your little pamphlet?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not ¨C we wrote that a werewolf can only be killed by silver, fire, magic, beheading, or another werewolf.¡± David groaned. ¡°Are people seriously trying to cure themselves by getting bitten?¡±


    ¡°A few, yes,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look at me like that. Your father insisted that only those who can hope for no cure from a doctor may volunteer. There¡¯s still plenty of people who can¡¯t afford a healer.¡±


    ¡°Does it make a difference?¡±


    George Louis shook his head. ¡°The scientists tell me it¡¯s too early to be sure of the statistics, of course,¡± he said wryly, ¡°but it seems to be about a fifty-fifty chance whether someone goes mad or not, and they haven¡¯t found anything that affects it. It¡¯s possible that children are less affected, but since their current sample size consists of a grand total of four children, and even I wouldn¡¯t suggest a field study on the matter ¨C well. Hard to tell.¡±


    ¡°We do know of at least one child who was bitten and turned out dangerous,¡± David said slowly. ¡°Father calls it the worst hunt he ever participated in.¡±


    ¡°I see. Then there probably isn¡¯t anything that affects the outcome. It certainly makes no difference if the biting werewolf is mad or not.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we pretty much knew that,¡± David pointed out. ¡°Greg was bitten by a mad werewolf, after all, and he turned out fine. Fifty-fifty, huh,¡± David added, more to himself.


    ¡°Those criminals sentenced to die are lining up for it,¡± George Louis said. ¡°And we did rule out all the murderers, as you suggested.¡±


    ¡°Only the murderers?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Actually, no,¡± George Louis replied. ¡°I put a Mr. Bell in charge, he¡¯s also from Deva University, a professor of law. He¡¯s got two assistants analyzing the cases and picking people they think will be loyal to Loegrion. Of course, no system is perfect, but that¡¯s what hunters like yourself are there for, right?¡± George Louis continued.


    ¡°Right,¡± David said dryly. ¡°But let¡¯s try to keep the death toll low, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°How is Little George, anyway?¡± David asked, mostly to distract from himself. He had never seen George Louis¡¯s only son. ¡°He¡¯d be about eight now, right?¡±


    George Louis nodded slowly, staring into emptiness. ¡°You never did meet him,¡± he noted. ¡°He¡¯ll likely visit Eoforwic soon,¡± he added. ¡°His tutor read the pamphlet with him, he¡¯s been asking about you. Werewolves, too, of course. Wants to see one with his own eyes.¡±


    ¡°He hardly has to travel to Eoforwic for that,¡± David pointed out. ¡°Or have you really rounded up all the werewolves from the north and sent them here?¡±


    ¡°All we could find, yes,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure there are more up in the forests, where we cannot follow. But they don¡¯t seem inclined to come out.¡±


    ¡°Not surprisingly,¡± David muttered. ¡°How many werewolves do you have, in total?¡±


    ¡°About a hundred,¡± George Louis said. ¡°But most of them are very newly bitten. The number is certain to go down. Probably by a lot. More are being made, of course,¡± he added. ¡°We¡¯ll have to see if it¡¯ll be enough.¡±


    ¡°Do you have an elder near the coast?¡± David asked.


    ¡°No. We¡¯ve got scouts ¨C airships and conventional vessels ¨C watching the coast. Telegraph lines are run from every town to Deva as we speak. We should have a warning at least a couple of days before they can land, and then we can have Bernadette down at Deggan within a day via the railway. And you have to keep in mind that they can¡¯t raise the Rot from seawater.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll still be cutting it close,¡± David sighed. ¡°We need more elders.¡±


    ¡°Very much so,¡± George Louis said.


    They¡¯d have to talk to Morgulon as fast as possible.


    ¡°In that case,¡± David said, pushing his chair away from the table. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s time I get back to work.¡±


    The plates had long been empty, taken away by Wilfred and the other servant, and while the wine was good, David had no intention of getting drunk. Especially not when George Louis was the one who kept refilling his glass. As long as he played hard to get, at least he had some form of bargaining chip.


    He expected the duke to disagree, to try and draw this out, but George Louis nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving tomorrow, but I¡¯m sure we will see each other again soon,¡± he said, getting up, too. ¡° As I intend to see the more forward lying camps, too.¡±


    He followed David to the entrance, and for a second, David thought George Louis would hug him. But then the duke straightened up and just held the door open for him.

 Chapter 47

    Greg followed David and Lane up to the makeshift bridge across the Lour. He waved them goodbye and watched as they led their horses over the ramshackle construction. Neither David¡¯s gelding nor Lane¡¯s mare seemed too happy about this. Or maybe it was the proximity of the pack that made them nervous. Greg could feel Bernadette¡¯s presence, so she had to be very close, probably watching from the forest. Fleur and Boris were sure to be with her.


    It was time to get it over with. He had told Bernadette that they could talk about the matter after full moon, and that had been over three days ago. The pack hadn¡¯t come close to the worksite or into camp while David and Lane had been around.


    Some of the bites Greg had earned in the fight with the mad ones still ached when he moved. He had been incredibly lucky that neither of the three had managed more than flesh wounds.


    David and Lane were long out of sight when finally, three figures walked out of the forest. Bernadette, Fleur, and Boris were in their human form and dressed, too, which surprised Greg a little. As Bernadette had said, the human body just wasn¡¯t very practical, when staying in the forest for more than a night. And the pack hadn¡¯t come into camp since Greg had told Bernadette he didn¡¯t want her apology.


    He wondered if they were now expecting him to apologize for his behaviour then.


    He suddenly felt very alone, standing here at the bridge, facing the other three. Thoko and Nathan both had offered to come with him, but he¡¯d thought that this conversation would probably go better if no humans were there.


    He regretted that now.


    Greg was a little surprised when the other three came close enough that he could see their faces, and they looked just as worried as he felt.


    ¡°They¡¯re not coming back, are they?¡± Bernadette asked, glancing across the bridge.


    ¡°They will return sooner or later,¡± Greg said. ¡°But for now, they¡¯re on their way to talk to the Morgulon.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Bernadette asked, looking even more scared.


    Greg wondered if he should tell them the truth, that they wanted to ask her about elder werewolves, but then decided against it.


    ¡°Duke George Louis wants the Morgulon to try what you tried,¡± he said instead. Which was also true, but not really why David and Lane wanted to talk to her. And then, because Bernadette looked still very nervous, he added: ¡°Lane and the Morgulon are friends, too, so she wants to see how she¡¯s doing, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± Boris grumbled. ¡°Why would the Morgulon of all people be friends with the Mad Butcher?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask her yourself, I only know what I¡¯ve been told. They did save each other¡¯s lives, I¡¯m pretty sure.¡±


    Boris spat onto the ground in disgust.


    ¡°I still cannot believe that David the Relentless is really your brother,¡± Fleur said quietly. ¡°That the Feleke Four are your family.¡±


    Greg hadn¡¯t heard that one yet. He wondered how David would feel about that epithet.


    ¡°I cannot believe that I spent full moon no ten yards away from him and lived,¡± Boris growled. ¡°If they do come back, someone else can take that cage.¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes. ¡°You did survive,¡± he pointed out. ¡°So what¡¯s the matter?¡±


    Boris stared at him, his mouth actually falling open. ¡°You-¡° he started, but stopped and shook his head.


    ¡°You do not know what it¡¯s like for us, Greg,¡± Bernadette said. ¡°For us, who have spent years living as werewolves. Think of it like this, perhaps,¡± she added slowly: ¡°It is one thing to be falsely accused of some worldly crime. Even if you feel you have no chance of defending yourself against the accusation levelled against you, at least you can run. Flee to the next county, the next city, and if all else fails, take to sea. But if you face charges of heresy? It does not matter where you run to. There is no place in the whole world that is safe, once the Inquisition is after you. It¡¯s like that for us. It¡¯s one thing, to run from an angry mob of farmers, or some small-time hunters. But if the Mad Butcher is on your tail? Or the Feleke Four? There is no escape. There is only death.¡±


    Greg frowned. His family was hardly the Inquisition.


    But then he had to think of David, going after the two ¡°sheepkillers¡± in the forests of Duke Desmarais¡¯s. Lee and Marianne had had a head start of several days, and still, David and Lane had tracked them down. Sure, it had taken them a month, but that almost made it more scary.


    ¡°That¡¯s why we didn¡¯t tell you,¡± Bernadette said after a few seconds. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry you got hurt. We didn¡¯t mean for that to happen. But we didn¡¯t think your brother would approve. And we were scared.¡±


    Greg didn¡¯t know what to say to that. Nathan would probably think this was funny, that the three of them were scared of him, all on his own.


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    And this wasn¡¯t about Nathan, anyway.


    ¡°I can keep a secret,¡± he said, still a little hurt about that. ¡°But I guess it¡¯s a moot point now, anyway.¡±


    Bernadette looked at him in surprise, like that possibility never occurred to her. ¡°You would keep something like that from your brother?¡± she asked.


    Greg shrugged. ¡°If I thought there was a good reason? Sure.¡±


    The other three werewolves eyed him with different degrees of disbelief. ¡°You would lie. To a hunter.¡±


    ¡°Probably wouldn¡¯t have to lie,¡± Greg said. ¡°Nathan¡¯s not exactly the most observant. And even if he had - I mean, he¡¯s rash, and reckless and all that, but he¡¯s not stupid, you know? I bet he¡¯d have seen the advantage it would have meant if your plan had worked. At worst, he¡¯d have insisted on being there while you try, and let¡¯s face it, that wouldn¡¯t have been all that bad, would it? If there had been a hunter present when you got attacked, Bernadette?¡±


    Greg paused, and added: ¡°He wouldn¡¯t have killed either of you, even if he hadn¡¯t agreed.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say,¡± Boris growled.


    Greg rubbed his face with his hands. ¡°You need a crown warrant now,¡± he said. ¡°Any hunter who wants to kill a werewolf needs a crown warrant. If a werewolf is killed without such a warrant, the guilty hunter will immediately be turned into a werewolf himself. And I bet if someone kills an elder werewolf like Bernadette, they don¡¯t even bother with turning them werewolf. I bet they¡¯ll just execute the hunter.¡±


    He looked into three blank faces and shook his head. ¡°Do you guys have any idea how important, how vital werewolves like Bernadette are to ¨C to everybody in this whole bloody country? We¡¯re at war with the freaking Empire! In a few months, our coasts will likely be crawling with Valoisian soldiers, with sorcerers, with Rot. They need you guys!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a crown warrant?¡± Fleur asked, quietly.


    Greg sighed. ¡°It¡¯s like ¨C it¡¯s a special warrant, that basically says that the King himself ¨C or the Queen ¨C wants to see you dead. It means ¨C it¡¯s like what Bernadette said, with the Inquisition, only it was invented before the Valoise came here. A normal warrant ended at the border of whatever duchy, or county, or barony, or other place it was issued by, and it was pretty much only courtesy if it was accepted elsewhere. Every free city was literally free to ignore a warrant issued by some noble, no matter what rank.


    A crown warrant can¡¯t be ignored ¨C like the general warrant of the Valoise. It stretches across the whole kingdom, it¡¯s valid in every county, and every servant of the state is honour-bound to do everything within their power to see someone who¡¯s wanted under a crown warrant brought to justice. Most importantly for you: it¡¯s really, really hard to get one. Only the King himself and handpicked representatives can issue one. Like, right now? Only George Louis and probably Duke Desmarais can put a crown warrant on you, and Captain Reed has been authorized. Otherwise, Nathan wouldn¡¯t have been able to bring in that last mad werewolf.¡±


    ¡°So the king has to say he wants us dead. Big deal,¡± Boris growled.


    Greg laughed. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a big deal! Like ¨C you could go to a city like Northwold right now and just start killing people, and they wouldn¡¯t be allowed to do as much as lock you up!¡±


    ¡°Until Duke George Louis puts such a warrant up.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Greg said. ¡°Once he has done so, every single hunter of all of Loegrion would pretty much have to go after you. But without that warrant, you¡¯re untouchable.¡±


    ¡°Untouchable,¡± Bernadette repeated.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Never going to happen,¡± Boris growled.


    ¡°I believe him,¡± Fleur said quietly. ¡°I saw his brother, right after Greg fought the mad ones. He was seriously mad when I told them that we had known. But he only glared.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Bernadette said. ¡°When do you think they¡¯ll put a ¨C a crown warrant on a werewolf?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t go around killing people,¡± he said. ¡°Though, honestly? If it¡¯s full moon and an accident, I bet they¡¯ll let it slide, especially if it¡¯s you, Bernadette. Just don¡¯t - don¡¯t flaunt it. Don¡¯t take the piss, I mean. If people start thinking werewolves are ¨C are putting humans at risk on purpose, cause they feel untouchable, that¡¯ll force George Louis¡¯s hand.¡±


    ¡°What about after the war?¡± Boris asked, clearly wary.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Greg said honestly. ¡°But think about it ¨C George Louis wants to rule all of Loegrion. Including the whole range of the central mountains, everything between the west and the east coast. And all the lands up north, too, all the way to the Ice Mountains and the Northwest Passage, should it even exist.¡±


    ¡°All the way to the north pole?¡± Bernadette asked, sceptical.


    ¡°As far as humans can survive,¡± Greg said. ¡°Probably not all the way to the pole. But if werewolves can survive there, he might send some. Just so he can say Loegrion was first to get there.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve read about that race in a paper,¡± Bernadette said, thoughtful.


    ¡°Hah,¡± Boris growled. ¡°I bet a werewolf could do it. If they can avoid getting turned around on full moon, that is.¡±


    ¡°The thing is,¡± Greg said, ¡°a country that has enough werewolves wouldn¡¯t even have to control magic so much. That would mean a lot of advantages over other nations. Just think about the next plague, how much easier it would be to deal with if healers didn¡¯t have to worry about raising the Rot. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Duke George Louis is thinking in that direction.¡±


    Bernadette nodded slowly. ¡°And your family,¡± she said slowly. ¡°They¡¯re friends with the duke? Allies?¡±


    ¡°Allies, yes,¡± Greg said. ¡°Even if they weren¡¯t, they wouldn¡¯t hunt you without good reason.¡±


    But he could see how hard that was to believe for the pack, all three of them.


    ¡°Look,¡± he sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll go back to the camp now, okay? Nathan is the only hunter there again, so it¡¯s perfectly safe for you guys to come, too.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t surprised when neither of them moved, so he sighed inwardly, and raised a hand to wave at them, before turning his back on the pack and the bridge. It was harder than it should have been. The wolf didn¡¯t want to leave them behind, but he ignored that empty feeling in his chest. Werewolf or not, he wasn¡¯t going to let some animal instinct dictate his life.


    The pack did come a lot closer to the building site the next day, all three in their human form, and hesitantly talked to Mr. Higgins, who was watching the engineering team with Greg. Of course, then it didn¡¯t take long for the rest of the scientists to show up. Bernadette, Fleur, and Boris had very little interest in talking to them, even after Greg had explained that they were not working for the hunters.


    Prof. Audenne, of course, was persistent. He also wasn¡¯t stupid, so the next day, he brought cake, and when that only drew in Fleur, he tried chocolate another day, until eventually all three of them were comfortable enough around him to answer his endless questions. They even allowed him to follow them into the forest when they were in their wolf form, and once half-moon was over, they started coming into camp again.


    Thoko wasn¡¯t too happy, Greg could tell.

 Chapter 48

    Lane was a little amazed that they could ride to the camp where Morgulon was staying, without a werewolf on guard and without ever smelling a whiff of the Rot. Not even the strange headache that came before the Rot reared its ugly head, not even when they were within sight of the Savre. Not even at night.


    Of course, there was an elder werewolf roughly every ten miles in this forest. They passed the second crew, busy laying down tracks, on the second day. As soon as the bridge across the Lour was finished, the company would be able to bring in the building materials to construct the bigger bridge across the Savre. Maybe it was actually doable in a year, Lane thought.


    ¡°Lots of tracks,¡± David noted. ¡°But not a werewolf in sight.¡±


    ¡°Are you really surprised?¡± Lane asked. ¡°They¡¯re scared of us.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± David said. ¡°I keep forgetting that it¡¯s been only a few months for most of them,¡± he added. ¡°Feels longer.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Lane said. ¡°I¡¯ve only been involved with this madness for, oh, nine months? And it feels like ages already. Nine months since George Louis sent us to find sane werewolves. Eight since I found Morgulon,¡± she added thoughtfully.


    It did feel so much longer. Had it really been only a little over a month since she had seen Morgulon at Deva?


    ¡°I think it¡¯s the railway,¡± she said, and then had to laugh about herself for sounding like an old lady. ¡°Just ¨C a month ago, we were at Deva, and then at Deggan, back at Deva within an hour, at Courtenay, Eoforwic, and all the places we stopped in between... We wouldn¡¯t have been able to travel that much in such a short time two years ago.¡±


    David nodded slowly. ¡°Lots of things seemed impossible two years ago. Like challenging the Empire.¡±


    ¡°Think George Louis can actually pull it off?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°That¡¯ll depend on what Morgulon tells us, I think,¡± David said. ¡°Right now, there¡¯s Fenn, and Calder, and Bernadette, and the Morgulon herself. And it¡¯s enough to build the railway and keep the heartlands mostly safe at the same time. If we had another four, or eight, or maybe a dozen more elder werewolves? Yes, I think we might actually be able to do it.¡±


    He was quiet for a moment and added: ¡°Four at the coast, at least. One just for Deggan ¨C no, make that two, the Empire will have to take the harbour there to land their troops in large numbers. The rest somewhere central, like Deva, to be deployed wherever they¡¯re needed.¡±


    ¡°Deggan is not the only harbour the Empire might use,¡± Lane pointed out. ¡°Have just one there, place one in King¡¯s Haven, too, and don¡¯t forget about the southern coast.¡±


    ¡°Right, I forgot about that. They¡¯ll need at least four, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Lane nodded. ¡°Do you think there are that many alive?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t see why not,¡± David said. ¡°The Central Range and the High Plains are huge, after all. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if out there, there are lots of elders. Maybe even some who are older than the Morgulon. Can we find them in time?¡± He shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ll have to see.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I see what you mean,¡± Lane said softly. It took the mail coaches weeks to get across, and they went in a straight line, following the ancient roads from before the Rot. Werewolves were sure to avoid those roads. If Morgulon could tell them where to look, that would make a huge difference. But the question was whether she would be willing to do so.


    They stayed for the night at the next camp over. It was manned only by a small number of navvies, who were busy strengthening fortifications. They had already put up a few buildings where they were sleeping and were happy to let Lane have one of them. There were a few guffaws when they explained that they only had one hut to spare. Lane wasn¡¯t sure if she had dared to stay at the camp had she been alone, but with David there, in a tent right outside, she was pretty certain that nobody would ¡°accidentally¡± walk in at night, hoping to see her naked.


    The next day, they reached the bridge over the Savre, and were a little surprised to find that Eyal¡¯s crew had already crossed over. The clear-felled aisle was impressively long.


    ¡°Ten more miles to Mannin!¡± Eyal told them proudly, once they finally reached them. ¡°Of course, then we have to turn around and prepare the ground for the tracks, but still.¡±


    ¡°Impressive,¡± David said.


    ¡°How¡¯re Greg and Thoko?¡± Eyal asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re fine,¡± David assured him.


    ¡°So Greg gets to work with the engineers?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes. And a bunch of zoologists from Deva University who want to learn everything they can about werewolves.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± Eyal said, and David explained a little more about why they had come out to First Camp originally.


    ¡°I take it you want to talk to the Morgulon?¡± Eyal eventually asked.


    Lane and David exchanged a look. ¡°Is there a problem?¡± Lane asked. Because there had been a note in the big man¡¯s voice, something that made the hairs in the back of her neck stand up.


    ¡°Not ¨C not a problem,¡± Eyal said. ¡°At least the other werewolves are sure that she¡¯s fine. She just won¡¯t come into camp anymore. You¡¯ll either have to convince one of them to take you to her, or track her down somehow yourself.¡±


    Lane had to bite her tongue to stop herself from saying something very un-ladylike. ¡°How long since you saw her last?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Since she returned from Deva,¡± Eyal said. ¡°She dropped off the new guys, we sent Bernadette back with Greg, and then she walked into the forest and hasn¡¯t come out again.¡±


    ¡°We better get on that, then,¡± David said, to Lane¡¯s endless relief.


    They still had some daylight left, and if that wasn¡¯t enough time, they could track into the night. It was half moon, they wouldn¡¯t have to worry about werewolves or the Rot.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be fine,¡± David said, as soon as they were out of earshot of the navvies.


    ¡°Do I look that worried?¡±


    ¡°Like you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡±


    Lane took a deep breath, but it didn¡¯t help. A sense of dread had gripped her, a fear that made no sense at all. If there was anything seriously wrong with Morgulon, the navvies camp would have gone down with the Rot already.


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    But she really did feel like she had seen a ghost. Something that just shouldn¡¯t be.


    ¡°What do you think is it?¡± she asked. ¡°Why would she...¡±


    ¡°Stop coming into camp?¡± David asked when Lane trailed off. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t she? It¡¯s not like Morgulon hasn¡¯t lived most of her life out in the forest. Maybe she just got tired of all the people.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I ¨C I can see that,¡± Lane muttered. But it still didn¡¯t calm her.


    Finding a werewolf track near the camp wasn¡¯t hard. Finding the right one was the challenge. They did try to talk to one of the younger werewolves they met, but the young man just glared at them and told them to leave the Morgulon alone.


    So they circled the camp, in wider and wider rounds, hoping for some sign of Morgulon.


    The only thing they found was a trail, worn into the underbrush by werewolves passing by over and over again. There was blood on the ground, too. Lane dropped to the ground and tipped a silver blade into it. There was no reaction, none of the fizzle that werewolf blood would show.


    ¡°Animal,¡± she sighed with relief.


    ¡°Think they are bringing her food?¡± David asked.


    Lane stared at the trail. ¡°Maybe,¡± she said. ¡°We should,¡± she added. ¡°As a peace offering, if nothing else.¡±


    David wordlessly took the silver bolts out of his double-crossbow and replaced them with steel-tipped ones.


    ¡°Any game Morgulon prefers?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Lane said. ¡°Or as she would say, as long as its edible. Also, the more the better.¡±


    ¡°So, at least a wild hog,¡± David said. ¡°Or a stag.¡±


    ¡°That would be good, yes.¡±


    By the time they had made game, even the summer daylight was dwindling, but the well-worn trail they had spotted earlier was hard to miss. The two of them followed it slowly, carefully. They didn¡¯t want to spook Morgulon and send her running. Especially not if she was hurt in any way ¨C Lane couldn¡¯t get over the thought that she might be.


    Or was David right? Was Morgulon just tired of the crowds of navvies?


    ¡°Maybe you should wait here,¡± Lane said softly when they reached an especially thick wall of foliage. The trail led right into there, and Lane had a feeling that they had reached its end.


    ¡°Sure,¡± David said.


    Lane hesitated a second, before handing over her crossbow and the quiver, in exchange for the deer they had shot. It was smaller than Lane would have liked, but at least she could carry it easily. She had to bend over almost double and pushed forward, into the undergrowth. Any werewolf taking this route would have to get down onto their belly.


    And then she was through, feeling air above her head again. Warm air. As if she had passed through a very low and narrow door into a dark room. A soft rumble greeted her as she carefully straightened up again. There was no malice to it, though, not even a warning.


    ¡°Morgulon?¡± Lane whispered.


    She could hear something big moving in the darkness of the nest, and then a rough tongue quickly washed across her face.


    Lane almost giggled in relief. Morgulon was already sniffing out the deer she carried, carefully taking it out of her hands. The next second, Lane could hear Morgulon ripping into the carcass.


    ¡°Can I call David in?¡± Lane asked. ¡°You remember him, right?¡±


    But Morgulon growled softly in answer.


    ¡°Right. We talked to Eyal a little,¡± Lane went on, carefully feeling her way over to the werewolf. ¡°He says he hasn¡¯t seen you since you came back from Deva. Have you been here the whole time?¡±


    She placed one hand on Morgulon¡¯s shoulder just in time to feel her shrug.


    ¡°Any chance you¡¯ll talk to me?¡± Lane asked.


    Morgulon moved even closer to her, until Lane almost lay draped over her back, but didn¡¯t change.


    At least they seemed to be feeding her well. It felt like Morgulon was less bony than a month ago in Deva.


    ¡°You¡¯re all right, aren¡¯t you?¡± Lane tried again.


    This time Morgulon nodded; Lane could feel the movement clearly. It felt almost enthusiastic.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll let David know, okay? So he doesn¡¯t have to sit outside all night?¡±


    Morgulon didn¡¯t react, probably too busy chewing.


    Lane felt her way forward, then hesitated again, feeling around for some dry twigs.


    ¡°Morgulon?¡± she said. ¡°Please, don¡¯t freak out, but I need some light.¡±


    Morgulon did jump when Lane struck a match against her boot, quickly lighting the twig. She singed her fingers making sure that the match wouldn¡¯t set anything on fire before she dropped it. In the tiny flame, she caught a glance of Morgulon¡¯s huge form, shifting uneasily. The golden eyes gleamed in the dark like two flames of their own.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± Lane promised.


    She took a deep breath once she was out in the open forest again. It was stuffy inside the nest Morgulon had made for herself.


    ¡°Lane?¡± she heard David¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Lane muttered. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°Everything all right?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± Lane said slowly. ¡°Something is definitely weird here, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a problem as such.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s in there?¡±


    Lane could see him now, though his dark skin made him almost vanish between the shadows.


    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s in there,¡± Lane said. ¡°Build herself some kind of nest. Won¡¯t turn to talk to me, and I¡¯m wondering what in the world she¡¯s doing in there.¡±


    ¡°A nest,¡± David repeated. ¡°And she didn¡¯t do that before?¡±


    ¡°No! I mean, for new moon, yes, but never the rest of the month.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s like a bird¡¯s nest? Or a burrow?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°It¡¯s really warm in there; I bet you could hatch an egg in there.¡±


    David was quiet for a while. ¡°So ¨C you don¡¯t think she¡¯s in there for the same reason normal she-wolves stay in their burrows?¡±


    Lane stared at him in surprise, trying to make out his face enough to see if he was joking. ¡°What are you saying? That she¡¯s ¨C going to have cubs in there?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible, isn¡¯t it?¡± David said.


    Lane opened her mouth and closed it again. ¡°I ¨C I mean, I suppose it¡¯s possible, yes,¡± she managed. ¡°But ¨C how? Or ¨C I mean, I know how, but ¨C who¡¯s the father?¡±


    ¡°Might be one of the werewolves around here,¡± David pointed out. ¡°The one back there did try to warn us away rather urgently, considering how scared werewolves usually react to us, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Lane just nodded thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯ll get back in there,¡± she said slowly. ¡°Ask her. Maybe you should go back to camp. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s ready to see you right now.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± David said. ¡°Will you come into camp, or should I check on you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll need some human food in the morning,¡± Lane said. ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± David said, loosening his own water bottle from his belt and offering it to her. ¡°See you then.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Lane said and accepted the bottle. She paused before ducking back into the nest, staring hard into the darkness, trying to make out what it was actually made of. Trees and shrubs didn¡¯t usually grow like this, did they? It looked like it was roughly the shape of a squirrel¡¯s dray, only hundreds of times bigger.


    Lane crawled back into the darkness, wondering if Morgulon could see anything in there, or if she was orientating by smell and sound alone. Lane groped around blindly until she nearly fell over one of the big paws. She managed to steady herself, and gently lean against Morgulon¡¯s shoulder again.


    ¡°So...¡± she said, a little unsure on how to even ask this. ¡°David asked if you¡¯re ¨C going to have ¨C children in here.¡±


    She could feel Morgulon¡¯s nod before she had even finished the question as if Morgulon had heard them talk outside. Which was possible, of course.


    ¡°You are,¡± Lane whispered to herself. ¡°Oh, God...¡±


    She felt a little silly for the last exclamation, mostly because she had no idea what god she should be praying to, these days. Mithras would hardly look favourably on her or Morgulon, not to even speak about the ¨C the young ones.


    ¡°Any idea when?¡± Lane asked softly.


    Morgulon shrugged.


    ¡°I wish ¨C I¡¯ve got so many questions right now,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°I mean, who¡¯s the father? Where did you meet him? Is he human?¡±


    Morgulon kept shaking her head while Lane spoke to herself, and Lane fell silent. Not human, that had been a stupid question, really.


    ¡°Is he one of the werewolves guarding the camp right now?¡±


    Morgulon shrugged.


    Lane frowned. ¡°You aren¡¯t sure?¡±


    It seemed like something Morgulon would be sure of. Or maybe that was just the jealousy talking, which Lane couldn¡¯t quite fight down. It was hard enough to imagine Morgulon with one of the other werewolves, let alone several of them.


    But then another thought came to her, something Nathan had mentioned about Greg and the pack, especially about Greg and one of the younger female werewolves.


    ¡°Did this happen on full moon?¡± she asked.


    Morgulon shrugged again and then nodded.


    ¡°So this wasn¡¯t something you ¨C wanted to happen?¡±


    Morgulon huffed, shook her head, and then nodded.


    Lane frowned. ¡°This is something you wanted to happen?¡±


    Nod.


    ¡°I see,¡± Lane said quietly. ¡°Think we¡¯ll see this happen more, with all the werewolves rounded up and in the same place?¡±


    Morgulon shook her head.


    ¡°David will love this. And his brother. Wait ¨C Greg might actually be the father!¡±


    Morgulon huffed again, a laugh, Lane was fairly sure.


    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll see ¨C soon,¡± Lane sighed, and leaned back against Morgulon¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I cannot wait for new moon, you know.¡±

 Chapter 49

    ¡°So,¡± Lane said, when she was back in the navvies¡¯ camp, early in the morning. She couldn¡¯t help grinning at David. ¡°Guess what: You were right, Morgulon is going to have kids. And Greg is one of the potential fathers.¡±


    David stared at her with a blank face. ¡°Not funny, Lane,¡± he grumbled after a moment.


    ¡°I¡¯m not kidding,¡± Lane said. ¡°Morgulon says it happened on full moon.¡±


    ¡°You talked to her?¡±


    ¡°We communicated,¡± Lane said. ¡°I¡¯m serious, David. It might have been Greg.¡±


    ¡°Sun¡¯s bloody ashes, Thoko¡¯s going to kill him,¡± David sighed. ¡°So will mother, if it turns out to be him and we don¡¯t bring them to Courtenay straight away. Any idea how long till we¡¯ll see?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Lane said. ¡°We can ask on new moon, but I don¡¯t know if Morgulon knows.¡±


    David rubbed his face. ¡°Think about it,¡± he said. ¡°First werewolves born in Loegrion since Morgulon herself, right?¡±


    ¡°Not quite,¡± Lane said softly.


    David frowned. ¡°You know anyone else?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°But Morgulon had two younger brothers. They died when the circus burned down. That¡¯s why ¨C why Morgulon killed my mother, later. As revenge for the family she lost.¡±


    They had never really talked about her family. David could talk about his brothers for hours, switching seamlessly from complaining about Nathan¡¯s recklessness to singing praise of his woodsmanship and endurance, rolling his eyes about Greg¡¯s love for classic literature and worrying about him in the next sentence, or grumbling about Andrew¡¯s sluggish pace in the saddle to praising his precision with the crossbow. David only ever spoke in highest tones about his parents ¨C they weren¡¯t quite so comfortable around each other yet, that he would tell her what had made him go out hunting alone when he had been just fourteen. Lane suspected it was quite a story.


    David didn¡¯t ask anything more about her father. Someday, Lane thought, she would tell him more, but not here, in the middle of a camp full of strangers.


    Eyal, and the other leader of the navvies, Digger, were already ambling over. They wanted to know if Morgulon was all right, of course.


    ¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°Pregnant, but fine.¡±


    ¡°Pregnant,¡± Eyal echoed. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure, yes,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s ¨C unexpected.¡± He exchanged a look with Digger. ¡°It¡¯s not going to be a problem, is it?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s built herself a nest, and probably won¡¯t come out of there, unless there¡¯s a major problem with the Rot,¡± Lane said. At least she hoped that Morgulon would come out, if necessary.


    Eyal seemed to catch her tone. ¡°You¡¯re not entirely sure she will come?¡±


    ¡°Not entirely, no,¡± Lane admitted. ¡°But on the other hand ¨C you¡¯re nearly at Mannin, and haven¡¯t had any problems with the Rot? Have you?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t have much rain, either,¡± Eyal pointed out.


    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s a risk we¡¯ll have to take,¡± Digger chimed in. ¡°It¡¯s not like we¡¯ll be entirely without protection. And also ¨C if she¡¯s anything like other expectant mothers, it might have the opposite effect on the Rot.¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of that,¡± Eyal said. ¡°All right. Did you get a chance to talk to her about the elder werewolves?¡±


    Lane shook her head. ¡°We¡¯ll be around until new moon, I suppose,¡± she said.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Eyal said, but he didn¡¯t look happy. ¡°Try not to spook the younger werewolves too much, will you?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll do our best,¡± David promised.


    Eyal nodded, and the two big men wandered off again, to supervise the rest of the navvies getting ready for the workday.


    Lane sighed and sat down on a piece of tree trunk next to one of the abandoned campfires. David took a seat on the ground beside her and poked the embers with a handy stick. He seemed comfortable with the idea of just sitting here and wait, but Lane was restless.


    ¡°What do we do the next eight days?¡± she asked softly.


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    ¡°You¡¯re bored already?¡± David asked. ¡°I bet they wouldn¡¯t mind a couple of extra hands for felling the trees,¡± he said, grinning up at her.


    ¡°Tempting,¡± Lane said sarcastically. ¡°But I think I¡¯ll pass.¡±


    ¡°Well, other than that, it¡¯s a little thin for entertainment out here,¡± David said. ¡°We could go hunting again, make sure Morgulon is well fed. Or we take the risk and push forward to Mannin. Six miles should be doable, even in this forest. We¡¯d need to leave right now, though,¡± he added. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to get stuck in the forest at night.¡±


    ¡°That ¨C actually, I like that idea,¡± Lane said slowly, a little surprised at herself. ¡°We could bring some food back for Morgulon, something special for new moon.¡±


    ¡°Think that¡¯ll raise our chances she¡¯ll talk to us?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lane said. ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    ¡°In that case: sounds like we have a plan.¡±


    They both got up at the same moment, and Lane smiled. She was still a little surprised at how easy it was with David. Travelling alone had been her definition of independence, even peace. But then, she had never had someone like David for a friend. Someone who didn¡¯t try to stop her from going out hunting, but rather had her back, someone who knew when to shut up and when to fill the silence with chatter. Someone who valued her opinion not just on flowers and needlework, but in the profession she had chosen for herself, too.


    They checked the horses over before they went to talk to the guy in charge of provisions. In this area, six miles through the forest were risky enough, even on a sunny day like today, with a half dozen werewolves at this end of the distance. There was no reason to do so without at least some food and water, just in case.


    David seemed to know the man, Nosson. The cook shook his head about them. ¡°You guys are crazy, you know that?¡±


    ¡°We hunt werewolves for a living,¡± David pointed out. ¡°You don¡¯t think that answers that question?¡±


    ¡°True.¡± Nosson rummaged around his cart. ¡°I can give you some bread that¡¯ll keep, and some dried meat,¡± he said. ¡°And I¡¯ve got some apples left. You¡¯ll find water at the other end of the camp, there¡¯s a little spring there. You¡¯ve got bottles, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, thank you.¡±


    They found the small well easily enough, and filled their bottles, before saddling the horses. They stopped at where Eyal was watching over his men to let him know where they were going.


    He looked sceptical, too. ¡°Good luck then. We can¡¯t send a search party,¡± he warned them.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± Lane said, and reached into her saddlebags to pull out the ugly winter hat she had bought on the hunt after Morgulon. It was just as ugly as when she had bought it, but unlike her old helmet, it could be rolled up and stuffed into a corner of her pack. She had taken out the thick woollen lining, too, so it was a lot less warm now, and folded up even smaller.


    ¡°Cute,¡± David teased. ¡°Especially the ear-flaps.¡±


    ¡°Haha,¡± Lane growled. ¡°I know what it looks like, but it¡¯s kept me alive on the Argentum Formation, so it can¡¯t be completely useless.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying it is. I just didn¡¯t expect you to wear something covered in heathen Loegrian fertility goddesses and their symbolism.¡±


    Lane felt her face turn pink, but asked: ¡°How come you recognize Loegrian fertility goddesses?¡±


    ¡°Greg¡¯s interested in folklore.¡±


    ¡°Of course he is. What are those symbols, then?¡±


    David¡¯s own cap, right above the forehead, showed what looked like an eye, with an eyebrow above and two sweeping lines like tears. David took it off to look at it himself.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t Loegrian at all; my mother made this for me,¡± he explained. ¡°It¡¯s an ancient symbol from where her family comes from, Lower Nubia, as the Valoise call it. It¡¯s always been a protective sign.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s certainly nicer than mine,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not hard,¡± David said, grinning, and put the cap back on. Unlike Lane¡¯s own, it had an actual shape to it.


    They set off into the forest, and Lane was very glad that she had taken the lining out of hers. It got very warm, anyway, but at least they made good speed even in the dense forest. The sun was still high in the sky when the thick underbrush of the primeval forest gave way to the orderly columns of what looked like it might be a crop of pines. It certainly was cultivated ¨C there was hardly any undergrowth. Nothing for the Rot to sink into.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize there was so much farmed forest around Mannin,¡± Lane said. ¡°Or did we go faster than I thought?¡±


    ¡°No, we didn¡¯t,¡± David said. ¡°We still have about four miles to go. This is all forest plantation grown for charcoal burners. I was surprised, too, the first time I came here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been here a lot?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± David said. ¡°You know how it is, there¡¯re hardly any bounties up here worth the travel-time. Father and I only helped out twice. One was this huge affair with about two dozen beaters, went right through this area. We¡¯re several miles away from the Savre here,¡± he added. ¡°It makes a large bent to the west right south of where it meets the Man. Have you ever been to the city?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve never been up here,¡± Lane said. ¡°I¡¯ve been out west, but not north. Not a fan of the cold. Or Duke George Louis.¡±


    ¡°Same reason I¡¯ve never stayed long,¡± David said. ¡°It¡¯s a nice city, though. City of bridges.¡±


    More prominent than the bridges, Lane thought when the city came into view, was the large castle sitting on an outcrop high above the city, right at the confluence of the Man and the Savre. Not the fairytale type of castle, but a proper, medieval stronghold with a keep, and massive stone walls that looked like they could withstand even a cannonball barrage. And of course the rivers on two of three sides.


    ¡°Does George Louis live up there?¡± Lane asked, pointing to the fortress.


    David laughed. ¡°Can you see him up there, between all the cold stones, no window, no heating, no ¨C no latrine facilities? I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything up there these days beyond a military posting. George Louis got a niece little palais ¨C large palais, really ¨C in one of the finer parts of the city.¡±


    Lane looked down onto the city again. ¡°It¡¯s bigger than I expected. Much bigger.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said. ¡°I¡¯m sure Greg could tell you more exactly, but I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s among the five biggest cities in the country. Maybe top three. Nearly a million citizens and growing, thanks to the factories. They¡¯ve got all the coal deposits needed to feed thousands of mechanized spinning wheels and looms, and whatnot. It helps that the steam engine was invented right here, of course. What?¡±


    Lane grinned. ¡°It¡¯s just funny,¡± she said. ¡°How you keep claiming you¡¯re not the scholarly type, not a politician and all that, and then you can tell me facts like that about a city you¡¯ve been to a grand total of twice.¡±


    ¡°Greg¡¯s fault,¡± David claimed.


    ¡°Right,¡± Lane said, drawing the word out. ¡°Because you spend so much time around him.¡±

 Chapter 50

    Like all the industrial cities of Loegrion, Mannin, too, was quickly outgrowing the corset of its medieval walls, with new quarters being pulled up all around. Often, by the times the walls around these new districts were finished, the area was already too small, so despite the Rot, the poorest of the poor hoping to make a living in the city still found themselves living outside their protection.


    Lane and David had to make their way through one of the half-permanent camps of day labourers to get to the nearest gate. Beggars and street urchins nearly ran in front of their horses, hoping for some copper. And Lane thought she saw at least one pair of yellow eyes quickly ducking into the throng of people.


    It wasn¡¯t really surprising, now that she thought about it, despite George Louis¡¯s attempts to send all werewolves to the railway. If she were a werewolf testing the waters, she¡¯d come to Mannin, too, not the heartlands.


    And then they were inside the city proper, riding along the Savre.


    ¡°City of bridges,¡± David said, grinning when he saw her face.


    ¡°I see where the name comes from.¡±


    The thing that made the bridges of Mannin so spectacular wasn¡¯t just the number, though there appeared to be hundreds. It was the way they seemed to float at the height of the roofs of most houses, reachable by strange, water-powered lifts that could take a fully loaded wagon plus oxen up onto the bridge and then down again the other side.


    Far, far below the bridges, barges with alchemy-treated hulls moored at the long quays. The full shore of the Savre was bricked up, as far as Lane could see, probably to stop the Rot from taking hold, and forming an endless line of jetties. High walls with silver spikes on top separated the streets of Mannin from this huge harbour. Through a high gate, Lane could see that the place was still busy in the dwindling daylight, but the dockworkers were already wearing silver protections. They all seemed in a hurry to finish whatever they were doing, and on the city side of the wall, guards were already lighting fires in waist-high grilles, each with a little roofing on top.


    No doubt the whole coastline would be deserted in an hour.


    Not the rest of the cities, though, Lane realized in amazement, when she and David left the restaurant where they had had dinner. Despite the Rot coming down the Savre in scores ¨C Lane could smell it even over the coal smoke ¨C Mannin had possibly the most active nightlife she had ever seen. It was like they were having a whole carnival in the middle of the night. Most revelers had little bouquets of lavender and other flowers stuck to their lapels, to overcome the stink of the Rot that engulfed the whole city, others wore scarves around their faces against the soot and smoke in the air.


    ¡°They are ¨C very sure of their protections,¡± Lane said, a little dumbfounded, while they drifted with the throng of people on the streets. Many of them seemed to be quite drunk.


    ¡°It¡¯s worked for the past two hundred years, hasn¡¯t it?¡± David said. ¡°And they can spare the coals they¡¯re burning.¡±


    ¡°It still seems like a pointless risk.¡±


    ¡°I think that is the point, really,¡± David shrugged. ¡°George Louis used to brag about this, how the people of Mannin don¡¯t cower before the Rot, how they aren¡¯t afraid and won¡¯t hide the night away.¡±


    ¡°Instead they go out and party. Every night?¡±


    ¡°Probably not everybody every night,¡± David said. ¡°But yes, that¡¯s what they do. George Louis is paying large sums for fairs and circuses to come into town, and during the day, on all the major market places they have lotteries where you can win tickets, or vouchers for free beer, and stuff.¡±


    ¡°Bread and circuses?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Very much so.¡±


    Well, that made sense, Lane supposed. The duke needed to have his own people¡¯s support if he wanted the crown. Or at least, he couldn¡¯t fight his own people and vie for the crown.


    ¡°So, want to go see what circus is in town? Assuming there is one, in any case,¡± David added, trailing off.


    ¡°I ¨C I suppose,¡± Lane said. ¡°I¡¯ve never been.¡±


    David turned to stare at her, then stopped himself mid-motion and nearly walked into a bawling drunk that was stumbling out of the pub they were just passing.


    ¡°I guess I shouldn¡¯t be surprised,¡± he said, once the off-key singing had faded a little.


    ¡°Father wasn¡¯t a fan of ¨C worldly distractions,¡± Lane said, scoffing. ¡°Not for me, in any case. He was allowed to go to the theatre.¡±


    David didn¡¯t say anything to that, so Lane went on: ¡°Did you ever meet him? Or even hunt together?¡±


    ¡°I saw him at court a few times,¡± David said. ¡°And at the magistrate next to Deva cathedral, when I picked up warrants. We ended up going after the same contract a handful of times, but we never really hunted together, no. Father ¨C didn¡¯t approve of your father¡¯s methods.¡±


    ¡°I bet,¡± Lane muttered. ¡°He wasn¡¯t a really good hunter.¡±


    ¡°Well, he was up against the Morgulon,¡± David allowed.


    Lane smiled. ¡°It¡¯s okay, David. I know what he was like. He was an amateur, and he clung way too much to his useless rituals. These days, I¡¯d rather have Big Bart and Little Roy on my side than him, too.


    Don¡¯t tell them I said that!¡±


    David was laughing too hard to answer her.


    They didn¡¯t go to the circus that first night, simply because, by the time they reached the big place where the tents were pitched, the performance was well underway. Instead, they found a hotel close by. They got rooms right next to each other, yet separate, which seemed to surprise the man at the reception. Lane found herself lying awake for a long time after she had gone to bed, listening to the music and voices wafting in from outside.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    What a strange place. She wasn¡¯t sure what she had expected from a city that sat right at the confluence of not just one, but two large, Rot-infested rivers. But it certainly wasn¡¯t all-night-long parties, not out in the open streets. Oh, sure, her father had ranted about the Northerners and their heathen, debased, and sinful ways. And sure, she¡¯d heard stories, but she¡¯d always thought those were made up, or at least exaggerated. The sheer amount of coal it had to cost every night to keep the fires burning that long was staggering.


    On the other hand, Lane wondered, now that she really thought about it, what else could they do? Abandon the city? If they didn¡¯t stop the Rot right at the river banks, it would run rampant through the streets as soon as it got dark, and hide in the basements during the day. Nobody would be safe, ever, anywhere in the city.


    And yet... Lane couldn¡¯t quite help but be impressed. Maybe it wasn¡¯t surprising that George Louis had been the one to try and finance a railway straight through the forest to Sheaf. For someone who grew up in Mannin, it probably didn¡¯t even sound like a big deal. The duke probably really did believe that human inventiveness could overcome any obstacle.


    ¡°Hubris,¡± she could hear her father¡¯s angry whisper.


    Maybe.


    No, certainly. Without the werewolves ¨C without Greg Feleke ¨C the enterprise would have failed. The navvies attempting it would have died. George Louis would have lost his investment, and probably his chance at challenging the Empire. Maybe even his life.


    But Greg had been there, the right ¨C person ¨C at just the right place, at just the right moment. Maybe it was true what they said: At some point, the bird had to jump in order to learn how to fly.


    Lane threw herself onto the other side, staring at the empty wall. The bed was easily big enough for two.


    Would Morgulon mind if she picked up some girl at the endless party outside?


    Unlikely.


    But that wouldn¡¯t be jumping, would it? To jump would mean to ask Morgulon if perhaps she could stand being human for a night, or even just a few hours for a start, to be with Lane.


    Lane closed her eyes and rubbed her face. Even as she thought it, she knew that she wasn¡¯t going to say anything the coming new moon. Not while they were out here, in the forest, and Morgulon hiding in her burrow, pregnant. Maybe if they ever made it back to Wardshire. Maybe after the war.


    Together, Lane and David went to see the circus¡¯s afternoon performance the next day, after mostly idling the morning away. The huge, red and yellow tent was surrounded by smaller ones, and Lane could hear animals inside them before they had even paid for admission.


    Last night, the crowd hadn¡¯t paid them much attention, but standing in line they were drawing a lot of stares. They had both brought their crossbows and quivers out of habit.


    The man selling the tickets eyed them up and down. He looked Valoise, a big, burly guy who looked like he could do security, too, except that he appeared very nervous to see them.


    ¡°You here on business, Madam, Sir?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Why, are there any outstanding crown warrants in the city?¡± David replied.


    That earned him a blank face, and David sighed. ¡°We were hoping just to catch the show, not a werewolf.¡±


    ¡°Sell the man a ticket,¡± a second voice interrupted. David couldn¡¯t see where it came from until someone moved inside the ticket booth, and a woman¡¯s head appeared just a little above the big guy¡¯s elbow. ¡°There are no crown warrants on anyone in our crew,¡± she told him.


    ¡°Two tickets, then, please,¡± David said, and tried a smile. ¡°We¡¯re not on duty right now, anyway.¡±


    The woman didn¡¯t seem to trust his words, because she followed them when they finally had their tickets. ¡°If you¡¯re not working right now, why carry arms?¡± she wanted to know.


    ¡°Habit,¡± David said. ¡°Also, would you leave a bag full of silver laying around?¡±


    He reached into his quiver and showed her a bolt.


    ¡°I guess that makes sense,¡± she said slowly.


    ¡°Do you have any werewolves around here?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°No,¡± the woman said.


    Maybe it was just everything that had been said before, but David didn¡¯t really believe her. He let it slide, though, and Lane just nodded, too.


    ¡°Enjoy the show,¡± the woman said, and then disappeared into the crowd.


    David looked at Lane, and they raised their eyebrows at the same moment, then grinned at each other.


    ¡°My money is on the lion tamer,¡± Lane said when the show was over. ¡°There is no way a regular human being would stand between those animals like that guy did.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, he seemed just like any lion tamer I¡¯ve ever seen,¡± David said.


    ¡°But did you see the size of that lion?!¡± Lane asked. Her heart was beating too fast from the excitement of the show, and her face was probably flushed. She wanted to go back and see it all again. ¡°And those tight-rope walkers? And the contortionists?¡± she added, making David grin. ¡°Is it always like that?¡±


    ¡°When they¡¯re good, yes,¡± David said.


    Lane took a deep breath.


    ¡°Dinner, next?¡± David asked. ¡°We can catch another show tomorrow,¡± he added.


    ¡°They¡¯ll think we¡¯re there to hunt somebody after all,¡± Lane sighed.


    ¡°Possibly,¡± David admitted. ¡°Or we just leave the crossbows behind.¡±


    Lane considered it. ¡°Let¡¯s see tomorrow. Food sounds good.¡±


    They found a place to eat close by and settled down. Lane had managed not to think about her father all throughout the show, but it was coming now. There had been a monkey presented in a large cage, picking the lock with a couple of sticks from inside and letting itself out, and now she couldn¡¯t keep out the image of Morgulon, as a little child, in the same kind of cage, presented to the hushed audience, and the screams of excitement when she transformed.


    And her own father, sitting in the ranks, probably glaring the whole time with that look of indignation and moral superiority he always wore around the unbelievers.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡± David asked.


    Lane shrugged. ¡°Just thinking about what father did,¡± she said.


    David didn¡¯t ask any further. Instead, he said: ¡°Do you think maybe Morgulon would like to see the show?¡±


    Lane opened her mouth, closed it again. ¡°I ¨C don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°It just occurred to me,¡± David added. ¡°It¡¯s six days till new moon. The crew should reach Mannin within that time, don¡¯t you think? And just from the reaction these guys had to us, I think they might not mind having her in the audience.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we should ask them first, though,¡± Lane said. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s one thing to have a werewolf that you know and trust in your group. Having another just walk in? I don¡¯t know how they¡¯d react.¡±


    ¡°We better do that,¡± David agreed.


    ¡°If they do say yes, then we can ask all the werewolves with the navvies if they want to go,¡± Lane said.


    So they went back the next day, right after breakfast. At the circus, the ticket booth was still boarded up, and everything was quiet around the tents.


    ¡°Let¡¯s try that big tent over there,¡± Lane suggested.


    It looked new, like maybe someone important lived there, but when they knocked against a board, only the monkey made a racket inside. At least it was loud enough to wake someone. After a few minutes the petite woman from yesterday, who had turned out to be a tightrope-walker, was stalking towards them.


    ¡°What do you want now?¡± she demanded.


    Lane looked at David, who shrugged.


    ¡°We work for the Lackland Railway Company,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°One of the crews will reach Mannin in a few days. Probably right around new moon. We were wondering how you would feel about having some werewolves in your audience.¡±


    ¡°How we would feel about ¨C¡° The woman stared even harder up at Lane¡¯s face. ¡°Are you kidding me?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Lane said calmly. ¡°One of the werewolves used to travel with a circus.¡±


    The other woman chewed on the inside of her cheek at that. ¡°How many werewolves?¡±


    ¡°About half a dozen. But if we do show up with them, it¡¯ll be new moon night, anyway.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± the woman said. ¡°Don¡¯t see why not. If you¡¯re gonna bring a big group, you might want to buy tickets in advance, though.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep it in mind,¡± Lane said.

 Chapter 51

    David wasn¡¯t sure if Lane and he had started the rumour, but the day after they spoke to the woman at the circus, suddenly everybody seemed to talk about how the navvies were reaching the city in a few days.


    ¡°You¡¯re not here about those werewolves working on the railway, are you?¡± a baker asked him, while David looked at his wares the next morning. ¡°Only, I heard they¡¯ll come into the city soon.¡±


    ¡°We work with the railway,¡± David said.


    ¡°How does that work?¡±


    David looked the man in his white apron up and down. His first instinct was to tell him to mind his own business, but he thought better of it. They still needed to find more werewolves, and the further they managed to spread the word that it was safe for them to come out of hiding, the better.


    ¡°The railway needs as many reliable werewolves as possible,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s our job to find them and bring them in alive while keeping the public safe from those who ¨C are not reliable.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± the man said. ¡°What do you do if a werewolf doesn¡¯t want to work for the railway?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t force them,¡± he said.


    ¡°Course you can, with that crossbow,¡± a customer piped in. A young woman in a servant¡¯s attire, probably working for some rich family in the city. She turned beet-red when David turned to her.


    ¡°There are new laws, Miss,¡± he said. ¡°Prohibiting the killing of sane werewolves. Which makes the crossbow a rather empty threat, Miss.¡±


    ¡°What about criminal werewolves?¡± another woman asked. ¡°I heard they are turning thieves and thugs into werewolves down at Deva, you cannot tell me that they all repent from their nefarious ways just like that!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what the watch are there for, right?¡± the baker said before David could say anything.


    ¡°The watch?¡± the woman asked in a shrill voice. ¡°They are barely more than thugs themselves! They can barely keep honest people safe from normal criminals! Just last week someone set fire to a house on Elmenstreet!¡±


    ¡°I heard that was an accidental fire,¡± a new customer got involved.


    David quickly ducked out of the little shop without buying anything.


    ¡°I thought you wanted to get some bread for us,¡± Lane asked when he came out, shaking his head. ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    David couldn¡¯t stop himself from grimacing in annoyance. ¡°The baker wanted to know if I¡¯m here to kill the werewolves with the railway when they come to the city, and when I told him that we work with the railway, an argument started between the other customers, and I decided to get out.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we should leave the crossbows at the hotel,¡± Lane suggested.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± David said. But he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do it, and Lane made no move either, though the hotel was just down the street. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s try and find some breakfast.¡±


    When they returned to the hotel for lunch, they were accosted by a journalist waiting in the foyer for them. Lane sighed to herself and then put on her best fake smile. David looked like he was about to reach for his crossbow when the young man in the cheap suit nearly ran them over, waving his notepad. Lane had to put a hand onto his shoulder to hold him back.


    ¡°Countess deLande, will you answer some questions for me?¡± the reporter asked excitedly. ¡°I¡¯m Patterson, with the True Tribune, based here in Mannin, people are excited to learn what brought you here? Perhaps we can talk right here at the pub?¡±


    Lane nodded graciously before David could say anything. ¡°Please, lead the way.¡±


    ¡°Have you never talked to the press before?¡± she whispered to David when they trailed after the reporter.


    ¡°No,¡± David said, quite brusquely. ¡°Father usually took care of it,¡± he added. ¡°Or Andrew.¡±


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°All right, I¡¯ll do the talking,¡± Lane muttered. ¡°Just try not to glare so much.¡±


    David smiled at that, though the smile was really no better than the glare.


    ¡°Thank you for taking the time,¡± Patterson started, once they had sat down. He looked from Lane to David. ¡°Countess deLande, Lord Feleke.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble,¡± Lane assured him. That much at least was true, it wasn¡¯t like they had anything to do the rest of the day.


    ¡°May I be cheeky and ask if there¡¯s a wedding date set yet?¡± Patterson went on.


    ¡°Nothing is set yet,¡± Lane said and managed to keep the smile on her face, though it was probably starting to look forced. ¡°Imminent war does not seem like an appropriate time for such festivities.¡±


    ¡°Well, of course,¡± Patterson agreed quickly. ¡°What brings you up to our fine city?¡± he went on. ¡°You have not graced us with your presence before, or am I mistaken?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s my first visit,¡± Lane said. ¡°We were accompanying the railway crew that is on the last push to clear-felling the proposed course to Mannin. They¡¯ll reach the city soon. We decided to ride ahead and see if we could find more werewolves.¡±


    Patterson of course wanted to know how she liked the place. She at length complimented the brave people of Mannin and their fair city, which seemed to go over well. Eventually, Patterson came back to the topic of werewolves.


    ¡°How are you going to find more of them?¡± he wanted to know.


    ¡°Well, part of it is talking to you right now,¡± Lane said. She had found her way back to her court-smile. ¡°We want people to know about what¡¯s going on, and we want werewolves to know that it¡¯s safe for them to come out of hiding. The Lackland Company is looking to hire them.¡±


    ¡°And yet you still carry the crossbow?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± David piped in. ¡°And we would like to assuage the fears of those people who worry that werewolves will be allowed to run rampant through their cities. That is not going to happen.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure many people will be glad to hear that,¡± Patterson said and made a note.


    Lane wasn¡¯t sure why David had gone that direction, but she couldn¡¯t take it back now. ¡°Werewolves who do commit crimes will obviously have to face justice,¡± she said. ¡°But the general warrant on them is revoked. Being a werewolf is no longer a crime in itself.¡±


    ¡°So ¨C basically you are both, right now? Recruiter and executioner?¡± Patterson asked.


    ¡°No werewolf will be executed without a crown warrant,¡± Lane replied.


    ¡°Yes, yes, we heard about that,¡± Patterson said. ¡°Very exciting, especially since Duke George Louis is not yet crowned king. But how did you come into this very difficult position? Why ¨C I¡¯m not doubting your skills, but why you? How does a famous werewolf hunter become a werewolf recruiter?¡±


    Lane and David exchanged a long, long look. Lane had absolutely no intention of telling the press what had happened between her and the Morgulon. She was just about to give Patterson some blather when David said: ¡°My youngest brother was bitten in Fevrier last year.¡±


    Patterson clearly had not expected that answer. Neither had Lane, for that matter. She wished she had known he was planning on revealing that secret, though ¨C at the very least, they should have demanded to see what Patterson was going to write before he published his article in exchange for giving him such a story.


    ¡°Greg had to leave Deva once he realized what had happened,¡± David added. ¡°He decided to join a crew of navvies, right after his first full moon, to take himself deep into the forests around Sheaf. Just as he meant to leave the crew, there was a huge thunderstorm, and the Rot attacked them. That was the first time he ¨C or anyone else, really ¨Crealized that a werewolf can fight the Rot. He protected his crew all the way to Sheaf, and is still working with the railway.¡±


    Patterson was scribbling wildly, as David was talking.


    ¡°You say that your brother found out that he had been bitten? I would have assumed that it¡¯s impossible not to notice a werewolf biting someone.¡±


    ¡°You would think so, wouldn¡¯t you,¡± David said.


    And then he told the story about the big hunt that had started all this, a lifetime ago as it seemed to Lane. Eight werewolves in one pack, it was still hard to believe. And Greg scratching his knuckles at the mad werewolf¡¯s teeth...


    Where would she be, right now, if Greg had been left unscathed?


    Still hunting Morgulon, probably. Certainly not courting David, even if it was just for show. Alone.


    Patterson¡¯s eyes were gleaming in excitement. ¡°You have never told this story before, have you?¡± he asked when David finished.


    ¡°No,¡± David said.


    ¡°Why tell it now?¡±


    ¡°A lot of what I did in the past months I did to protect my brother,¡± David said calmly. ¡°But the situation has changed. Secrecy is no longer our best option. There¡¯s a war coming, and if we want to win it, we need as many werewolves as we can possibly find. So that¡¯s why we¡¯re here. That¡¯s why we are trying to bring as many werewolves in, alive, as we can.¡±


    ¡°Is your brother the first Feleke to be bitten?¡±


    ¡°The first to survive it,¡± David said. ¡°An uncle of mine was killed by a werewolf. Years back.¡±


    ¡°But shouldn¡¯t you have killed him, once you found out?¡±


    ¡°According to the law of the Valoise, yes,¡± David said. ¡°Which is part of why Greg left Deva on his own. By the time we caught up with him, he had helped build the line to Sheaf, and it was becoming clear just how vital werewolves would be to the future of Loegrion.¡±


    ¡°If it had been different, would you have followed the law?¡± Patterson asked.


    ¡°No,¡± David said flatly. ¡°There was no way I would have hurt my own brother, unless he had turned out truly feral. In which case I¡¯m fairly sure he would have wanted us to stop him.


    Luckily, the question never arose. As soon as the line to Sheaf was finished, Duke George Louis asked us to find more werewolves, and then, just a few months later, Duke Desmarais told us the same. And here we are. Werewolf hunters looking for living werewolves.¡±

 Chapter 52

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m really curious what he¡¯s going to write,¡± Lane said when Patterson finally left. He had promised to let them see the article before it went public in the morning. They would have to see if he kept his word.


    ¡°I just really want to get some lunch now,¡± David sighed. ¡°Dinner. Food, at the very least.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t warn Greg, did you?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t plan to tell the press all this,¡± David admitted. ¡°But Greg¡¯s still at First Camp, everybody there knows what he is. If anything, we need to worry about father and Andrew. Don¡¯t see who might bother them, though.¡±


    ¡°After you so carefully threw in Desmarais¡¯s and George Louis¡¯s names?¡± Lane said. ¡°They¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    David nodded and pushed himself out of his chair.


    They walked over to a restaurant across the street in silence, and David didn¡¯t speak while they were waiting, or while they ate. He seemed to be chewing on more than just the food.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault,¡± Lane said quietly.


    She hated to see him like that, all closed-up suddenly, and she had a feeling that it wasn¡¯t so much about the interview.


    ¡°What happened to Greg, I mean,¡± she added. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have prevented it.¡±


    ¡°I could have prevented him from being part of that hunt in the first place,¡± David gave back. ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have been there, you agreed, back then.¡±


    Lane wasn¡¯t sure what to say about that, because he was right. She had felt that only experienced hunters should have been at that hunt. It was one thing to have beaters green as grass when you were trying to flush out one single werewolf hiding in the forest. But going after six of them?


    ¡°Nothing was ideal that night,¡± she finally said. ¡°And he wasn¡¯t the only one too inexperienced for that pack.¡±


    ¡°Think they really were mad?¡± David asked.


    ¡°They must have been, with all the people they killed?¡± Lane said, but the words became a question as she spoke them.


    ¡°Did they really kill all those people, though,¡± David said. ¡°All the reports we got, from the actual attacks, they said one werewolf, maybe two or three, and never any survivors. But nobody ever said anything about eight of them, did they? And then suddenly, a couple of carters see six of them in that forest, and they just walk away to tell the tale? Not even their oxen got killed.¡±


    Lane nodded slowly. ¡°You think we got the wrong pack.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± David sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just know that Greg is nothing like I thought werewolves are.¡±


    He was quiet for a long minute and finally said: ¡°I think there were a few mad ones, one, maybe two, in the area. There were several reports of werewolves killed in the area, but the attacks on livestock didn¡¯t stop, and neither did the sightings, so naturally, we all thought that those hunters reporting their kills were exaggerating. But what if they hadn¡¯t? What if they killed the mad ones, but because the pack was residing in the same area, people kept seeing werewolves?¡±


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    ¡°But a pack that large surely would have driven out other werewolves,¡± Lane disagreed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we can count on that,¡± David said. ¡°Bernadette couldn¡¯t warn those mad ones at First Camp away, Greg said. And she¡¯s an elder.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right,¡± Lane said. ¡°But it still wasn¡¯t your fault.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not ¨C I could have talked father out of letting Greg participate,¡± David said. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have stretched the line of beaters that much further.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not just Greg,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s ¨C I used to tell myself that I only hunted down the mad ones and that that made it okay. But I didn¡¯t, really, did I?¡±


    He played with his knife. ¡°It¡¯s just weird, having to think of myself as a murderer, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know that feeling,¡± Lane said dryly.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it bother you?¡± David asked, searching her face.


    Lane huffed softly. ¡°Bother isn¡¯t the word I would use,¡± she said. ¡°But I¡¯ve got to live with it, don¡¯t I? I never thought of myself as ¨C as a particularly good person,¡± she added quietly. ¡°Father ¨C thought that there are much worse sins than murder, and in his eyes, just me liking women rather than men absolutely counted as one of them. He used to say that me wanting to kill werewolves was the only godly desire I ever expressed. The only ¨C path towards redemption for me. And I still ¨C I¡¯m committed to what we¡¯re doing, don¡¯t get me wrong. I would never hurt Morgulon. Or Greg. But ¨C are we really doing the right thing?¡±


    She shrugged, and David nodded.


    ¡°We are,¡± he said with a conviction that Lane couldn¡¯t help but envy. ¡°Though it¡¯s probably easier to say that as someone who never gave a damn about Mithras¡¯s law in the first place.¡±


    Lane smiled at that. ¡°Yes, probably.¡±


    After their meal, they found themselves a little adrift on the high street, which hadn¡¯t yet filled up with the night crowd.


    ¡°There¡¯s a bathhouse not far from here?¡± David ventured.


    From the way he was saying it, Lane guessed that it wasn¡¯t the kind of place where one went just to get clean.


    ¡°Visited it last time I came to Mannin,¡± he added, slightly embarrassed. ¡°Full, uh, service.¡±


    Lane couldn¡¯t quite help grinning at his awkwardness.


    ¡°Sounds like a plan,¡± she said.


    They were at Mannin mostly to enjoy themselves, after all, and kill some time.


    Without really talking about it, they split up as soon as they stepped into the baths proper, wrapped in nothing but large towels.


    ¡°Devil¡¯s lair,¡± whispered her father in her ear, talking over the moans coming from an alcove.


    David clearly hadn¡¯t been kidding about the ¡°full service.¡± Mostly geared at men, though, from what she could tell.


    She turned away a couple of guys who approached her with hopeful faces, and stepped into the large basin of warm water, half thinking that maybe she really would take just a bath. Which was fine, really. Soaking in the warm water was nice enough in itself.


    But after she had turned away a few more guys ¨C they were taking her no with far more grace than she had expected ¨C a woman appeared up on the pool¡¯s edge behind her.


    ¡°Hello, gorgeous,¡± she said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but watch you turning away those gentlemen, and wanted to try my luck.¡±


    She dropped the sheet she had wrapped around herself just as Lane turned to look up at her. She was Valoisian, with sun-bronzed skin, and full, black hair, and a body like a sculpture, except for one long ridge of a scar running all the way from underneath her left breast to her thigh. The comfortable way she presented herself in the full, including that scar, only made her more attractive, and Lane smiled.


    The woman understood that as an invitation and sat down onto the edge, gliding into the pool.


    ¡°I¡¯m Nicolle,¡± she said.


    Lane didn¡¯t pull away when she leaned in for a kiss.

 Chapter 53

    One day before new moon, Lane and David watched from the sidelines how Eyal and crew moved into the city in a huge parade. The people of Mannin welcomed them like heroes, as if the railway line was already completed. Duke George Louis wasn¡¯t present, but his steward of the city was there to give a speech, praising the duke and the workmen almost equally.


    Lane smiled wryly at the frown on David¡¯s face, which deepened the longer the steward talked.


    When he shook his head in annoyance, she quickly looked away, before she started to giggle at his face. To many others, that expression would probably have been frightening, but to her, that curl of his upper lip mostly looked funny.


    Morgulon was nowhere in sight, unsurprisingly, but Lane thought she spotted the young werewolf-man who had warned them away when they had been trying to find Morgulon. He could easily pass as human, and Lane didn¡¯t notice anyone else.


    A huge cheer went up in the crowd when the steward finally finished his speech with a promise of free beer to everyone in the city.


    ¡°Do we try to fight our way through?¡± David asked.


    Lane eyed the crowd between them and the navvies. ¡°I¡¯d rather go see if I can find Morgulon right away,¡± she said.


    David nodded. ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll come with you.¡±


    ¡°Appreciated.¡±


    Finding Morgulon turned out to be surprisingly easy. Lane had worried that maybe she would be staying back at her nest, but instead, she was waiting with three other werewolves, right where the railway line emerged from the trees.


    They eyed Lane and David suspiciously as they dismounted, but Morgulon greeted Lane by pushing her head so hard into Lane¡¯s chest that she almost fell over.


    ¡°We brought food,¡± David said, keeping a few feet of distance.


    ¡°Did Eyal send you?¡± asked the only werewolf who was in his human shape.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t yet had a chance to talk to him, no,¡± David said. ¡°There was too much of a crowd.¡±


    ¡°Was it ¨C a good crowd?¡± the man asked. He looked old in his human body, and worried, spent from years of hard labour and too many bad things seen.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lane said, when David paused, looking confused. ¡°If anyone noticed that they brought some werewolves into the city, they didn¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Oh, good,¡± the old man sighed. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡±


    Morgulon had apparently heard enough. She was starting to sniff the bags of food they had brought. It didn¡¯t take her long to find the chocolate, and for a moment, she paused, like she was really thinking about turning human right away. To Lane¡¯s disappointment, she just wagged her tail a couple of times, and gently pulled at the package with the ham.


    Lane¡¯s mare whinnied nervously, eyes rolling. She calmed down again when Lane started taking the burden off her back, and Morgulon retreated a few steps.


    ¡°You could enter the city tomorrow, if you would like to,¡± David told the werewolves, who were all starting to look excited about the food, while he unpacked as well. ¡°We¡¯ve talked to the city guard about it, they say it¡¯s fine.¡±


    David paused when he was suddenly looking at two naked women flanking the old guy who had already been human.


    ¡°They¡¯ll let ¨C they¡¯ll let us come into the city?¡± one of them asked, and she looked like she was about to be crying. ¡°Into the actual inner city?¡±


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°For new moon, yes,¡± David said, gently. ¡°There¡¯s a circus in the city,¡± he went on. ¡°We talked to someone there, too, and they won¡¯t mind if you catch a show. Can¡¯t promise you a hotel room for the night, though.¡±


    One young woman hugged him, a brief, awkward hug, and then ducked away, mumbling something about clothes. She returned a couple of minutes later, wearing a simple dress, and carrying another one for the second woman. Nothing for Morgulon, as far as Lane could see.


    In the broad daylight, it was easier to see that Morgulon was pregnant, though it wasn¡¯t too noticeable while she was a wolf. Mostly, she wasn¡¯t as malnourished as Lane remembered.


    Lane was dying to ask Morgulon if she had any idea what month she might be in, but it didn¡¯t look like she was about to turn human anytime soon. She had settled down on the ground and was slowly eating a piece of ham, savouring every bite, from the way it looked.


    Lane eventually settled in next to the she-wolf, while David made a campfire, a few yards away from the group.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Lane asked the other werewolves, trying for a friendly tone.


    ¡°Mia,¡± one young woman said. ¡°And you¡¯re the, uh...¡±


    Mia fell silent, clearly embarrassed.


    ¡°You can call me Lane.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mia whispered. ¡°And thank you for all the food.¡±


    The old guy introduced himself as Charles. The other woman called herself Jody. The werewolves ate in slightly awkward silence, sometimes glancing at Lane or David, all of them watching Morgulon.


    It was she who finally broke the silence with a soft huff.


    Jody promptly looked up at Lane. ¡°Morgulon wants to know about the Circus?¡± she said.


    So Lane told them about the show they had seen, and how they had asked later. ¡°Do you want to go?¡± she finished.


    Morgulon thought that over for a while, then looked at Jody again, who dutifully asked:


    ¡°Will the guards be okay with a werewolf who actually looks wolf?¡±


    That gave Lane pause. ¡°It¡¯s new moon night, the night after tomorrow,¡± she pointed out.


    ¡°Yes, but Morgulon won¡¯t turn human,¡± Jody said.


    Lane opened her mouth, closed it again. ¡°Say again?¡± she managed after a moment.


    She was almost certain she saw a smirk on Morgulon¡¯s face.


    ¡°It¡¯s too much of a risk,¡± Jody explained. ¡°Any time she transforms, she risks a miscarriage.¡±


    ¡°So she just ¨C doesn¡¯t,¡± David said, looking as dumbfounded as Lane was feeling.


    ¡°No ¡®just¡¯ about it,¡± Charles grumbled. ¡°It¡¯s bloody hard. Painful, too.¡±


    ¡°Could you...?¡± Lane asked.


    The other three werewolves shook their heads.


    ¡°Not for a long time,¡± Jody said softly. ¡°I¡¯ll probably be too old to have children, by that time.¡±


    Lane didn¡¯t know what to say to that.


    ¡°How about full moon?¡± David asked, after nearly a minute of silence.


    ¡°Full moon is full moon,¡± Charles said. ¡°No getting around that.¡±


    Lane was still trying to digest that. Morgulon could remain a wolf, even on new moon. Had to stay wolf, or risk a miscarriage. Did that mean she hadn¡¯t been pregnant when she had performed that incredible slow transformation at Deva? Or had she just not known, and been lucky?


    ¡°How ¨C how long did you all know that she¡¯ll have ¨C children?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°After she came to the railway with us,¡± Jody said. ¡°Couple of months now. Morgulon isn¡¯t sure, but she reckons it¡¯s less risky to transform in the first few months. Might even be fine if she turned today, but she doesn¡¯t want to take the chance.¡±


    ¡°No, I ¨C we understand,¡± Lane said.


    Morgulon snuffled again.


    ¡°Mannin is a big city?¡± Mia asked for her.


    ¡°Mannin is quite a large city, yes,¡± Lane said. ¡°Not quite as big as Deva, but close.¡±


    Morgulon seemed to mull that over, too.


    ¡°She really would like to go, see the circus,¡± Jody said after a moment. ¡°If you think it¡¯s possible.¡±


    Lane and David exchanged a long look.


    ¡°I say let¡¯s try,¡± David said. ¡°Can¡¯t promise you they¡¯ll let you into the city, looking like this, but at the worst, we come back here.¡±


    Mia and Jody started pitching tents after they had all eaten, and Morgulon stretched out in a sunny spot and seemed to go to sleep. Lane thought she looked quite comfortable, but she still couldn¡¯t stop herself from asking Mia:


    ¡°Is she all right?¡±


    Mia grimaced. ¡°We think so. It¡¯s really hard to tell.¡±


    Lane nodded slowly. ¡°Do you know when this happened?¡± she asked Mia. ¡°Morgulon said it was on full moon?¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t really sure,¡± Jody answered instead of Mia. ¡°But probably the first full moon after the work on this line started. We¡¯ve tried asking Morgulon, but she isn¡¯t sure, either. She can¡¯t tell us much, cause she says she¡¯s only seen her mother going through this, and she was a small child then. Also, it was different, cause her father was human.¡±


    ¡°Different how?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°More human,¡± Jody said. ¡°Morgulon and her siblings were born one after the other, right? We don¡¯t think that¡¯ll happen here. There¡¯s going to be a litter.¡±


    ¡°Anything we can do to help?¡± David asked. ¡°Food, or anything?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s still fine hunting,¡± Jody said, ¡°and the crew has food for us, too, so that isn¡¯t a problem. But no, I don¡¯t know anything you can do, either. Unless you can find a midwife who¡¯ll look at her. Or, you know. A veterinarian.¡±


    ¡°We can at least ask around,¡± David said.

 Chapter 54

    The next day, Lane and David led their horses to walk alongside the four werewolves. They reached the city of Mannin around noon. All the werewolves were growing visibly nervous when the gates came into view, and Lane had to admit, she wasn¡¯t sure about this, either. The guards stared at them as they approached the gate, and two of them stepped forward, halberds raised as if to stop them. Staring at Morgulon.


    ¡°Let them pass,¡± their sergeant ordered calmly, and saluted David.


    Morgulon, Jody, Mia, and Charles moved a little faster, as they passed the guards. Lane couldn¡¯t blame them, she felt uncomfortable herself under the men¡¯s scrutiny. Clearly, not all of them were happy about the order.


    Civilians entering the city with them stared, too, and a hush surrounded them, with a whisper trailing after them along the high street. Yet nothing was thrown at them, nobody even so much as raised their voice, until they passed a coffeehouse. A group of ladies, all of them obviously well-to-do, in fashionable dresses, hats, and prim white gloves, started clapping when Morgulon walked past their table.


    David lifted his hat to them, which made some other people watching the scene whistle. After this, more people followed them ¨C or were less inconspicuous about it ¨C until they were leading their own little parade to the large square where the circus performed.


    The petite tight-rope walker was waiting for them, leaning against the wall of the booth next to the big guy selling the tickets. They both stared, like everyone else, when they saw Morgulon. The tight-rope walker caught herself fast.


    ¡°I was wondering if you guys would actually show up,¡± she said


    Morgulon wasn¡¯t paying attention to either of them, nor to the crowd that was gathering quickly. She was staring at the big circus tent, and even her wolf-face couldn¡¯t hide the emotions. Wonder and longing. Remembrance.


    Lane paid for the tickets, while David found someone to take care of their horses for the duration of the show. Every last seat was packed by the time it started, and quite a few people were clearly more interested in watching Morgulon than the performers. If Morgulon noticed, she gave no sign of it. Her eyes were glued to the arena. Lane thought she could see tears in them a couple of times.


    After the show, Eyal and much of his crew were waiting in front of the circus for them. Jody, Mia, and Charles visibly relaxed at the sight of them. Morgulon hardly seemed to notice her surroundings, still lost in thought. Lane kept at her side as they followed Eyal and his men to where they were staying, a rather cheap hotel attached to a large public house.


    They still needed to talk about finding elder werewolves.


    The group gathered at the pub. The taproom was just barely large enough for Eyal¡¯s crew and the werewolves, which meant all the curious onlookers had to stay outside. Morgulon settled down at the very back. Jody and Mia sat down at the table right next to her.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t come here just so we could see the circus, right?¡± Jody asked, when David and Lane pulled up chairs, too.


    ¡°We do have to ask some more questions of Morgulon, yes,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Right,¡± Jody sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s get it over with.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± David said. ¡°Can we get you some dinner?¡±


    Jody grinned wryly at that. ¡°You¡¯re always welcome to pay for our food, sure.¡±


    So David waved a waitress over. The woman barely hesitated to walk up to the table Morgulon had hidden behind, but kept glancing over while she took their order.


    Lane was a little surprised that nobody had asked about how Morgulon was still a wolf, despite the moon phase. She could just imagine all the questions that small professor, Audenne, would ask if he could see this.


    ¡°How did your mother hide herself, Morgulon, while she couldn¡¯t turn human?¡± David asked once the waitress was out of earshot.


    ¡°She performed with the circus,¡± Jody relayed. ¡°As the main attraction. Like the lion tamer¡¯s show we saw, but with a werewolf instead of a lion?¡± Jody frowned and watched Morgulon intently, as if she couldn¡¯t quite believe it herself. ¡°Morgulon says, back then the ban on captured werewolves was rarely enforced.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± David said. ¡°I keep forgetting that the previous High Inquisitors didn¡¯t care. Lane said it¡¯s possible that Greg is the father,¡± he continued. ¡°Is that true?¡±


    Morgulon shrugged.


    ¡°It was full moon,¡± Jody explained. ¡°Even she can¡¯t be sure ¨C what exactly happened. But if ¨C if the timing is what she thinks it is, then yes. Your brother is one of the possibly fathers.¡±


    David massaged his forehead with one hand. ¡°Great. That ¨C I suppose their human form will tell?¡±


    ¡°Most likely, yes,¡± Jody said.


    Lane still had trouble getting to terms with all this. Not knowing for sure who the father was, that was one thing. But not even remembering...?


    Lane bit her lips. She had asked this before, but she was really curious: ¡°Did you ¨C want this to happen, Morgulon?¡±


    Morgulon nodded. There was no hesitation this time.


    ¡°It couldn¡¯t have happened, otherwise,¡± Mia said quietly. ¡°There¡¯s no one old enough to ¨C to force himself on her.¡±


    ¡°Not even on full moon?¡± David asked. ¡°Greg said, when mad werewolves fight, only physical strength counts?¡±


    ¡°Full moon isn¡¯t the same as actual madness,¡± Jody said. ¡°I mean, yes, if a truly mad werewolf came along, they could ¨C could do bad stuff even to her.¡±


    ¡°So you decided this is a good time to have children?¡± Lane asked, trying not to sound judgmental, and not quite succeeding.


    ¡°It¡¯s the first time there¡¯s any hope at all, is there?¡± Jody pointed out.


    Lane opened her mouth and closed it again. That wasn¡¯t wholly stupid. There was certainly more hope for a ¨C litter? ¨C of young werewolves now than a year ago. And she still wasn¡¯t sure how old Morgulon was. Somewhere in her thirties? Late thirties?


    And yet... There was a war coming. They still needed to deal with the Rot. Needed Morgulon to deal with the Rot, really. Would she still be willing and able to fight once the young were born?


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    ¡°What about you and Mia?¡± David interrupted Lane¡¯s thoughts. ¡°Is - rape - an issue we should be aware of, especially on full moon, if you ever need to work in the same area as let¡¯s say Calder¡¯s crew?¡±


    Jody and Mia looked at each other, clearly uncertain.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Jody said after a moment. ¡°I know that mad werewolves can do bad things to us. I¡¯ve never heard of anything like rape from a sane one, but I¡¯ve been a werewolf for five years now ¨C so usually, I¡¯m the oldest one around, and don¡¯t have to worry about any males, anyway.¡±


    Morgulon rumbled softly, and they all looked at her.


    ¡°Morgulon isn¡¯t perfectly sure, either,¡± Jody said after a moment. ¡°But she thinks it won¡¯t be an issue as long as there¡¯s a decent pack leader around who won¡¯t stand for anything like that. And she''d like to make it clear that she didn''t force any of the males into this, either.¡±


    ¡°So, something to keep in mind for the future, but probably not an issue we¡¯ll need to deal with immediately,¡± David concluded. ¡°Anyway, what we actually wanted to ask, Morgulon: Is there anything we can do for you? Jody suggested finding a doctor, possibly a veterinarian. There is one, working for Desmarais, who treated two boys after they got bitten. Would you like me to send a message?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s more worried about the children after they¡¯re born,¡± Jody reported. ¡°She says some of them might not spend much time in their wolf-form.¡±


    ¡°Like Greg?¡± David asked.


    Jody nodded. ¡°She says her younger brothers were like that ¨C almost always human. And her mother, too.¡±


    Morgulon shifted her weight.


    ¡°She¡¯s worried about the winter,¡± Mia said.


    ¡°The winter?¡± Lane repeated. ¡°Right, of course you are.¡±


    Not about the war, not about the Rot. Morgulon was worried about the winter.


    David ran his fingers through the tight braids on his head. ¡°Can you tell us where we can find more elder werewolves?¡± he got down to the point they really needed to talk about. ¡°Because if we had another elder to take your place here, you could just come to Courtenay with us. Mother would help take care of the young, no matter what shape. And you, too,¡± he added. ¡°She¡¯s gone through half a dozen pregnancies of her own, she knows what it¡¯s like.¡±


    Morgulon thought about it.


    ¡°Courtenay?¡± Mia asked after a moment.


    ¡°It¡¯s the name of father¡¯s barony,¡± David explained. ¡°Lots of forest, a few villages and farms. Mother likes to stay at Heron Hall, our residence there. She had the old ice-house made safe for Greg to transform in during full moon.¡±


    Morgulon looked away when the waitress finally brought the food they had ordered. Morgulon hadn¡¯t wanted anything earlier, but when the waitress offered her a large piece of beef¡¯s bone, she didn¡¯t refuse, either.


    ¡°Can you tell us where we can find more elder werewolves?¡± Lane finally asked again, when Jody¡¯s and Mia¡¯s plates were almost empty.


    Morgulon shook her head. Lane wanted to protest, but Jody and Mia were staring intently at the elder she-wolf, so she kept quiet.


    ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± Jody eventually reported, frowning. ¡°No human can. Morgulon thinks that Mia and I can¡¯t, either. She¡¯s not being real clear why. I¡¯m sure I could find them?¡±


    But Morgulon shook her head again.


    Jody did not look happy. ¡°You think he¡¯ll be better able to convince them? He¡¯s only a year old! Well, if that isn¡¯t the point, then what is?¡±


    ¡°She wants your brother Greg to go,¡± Mia explained before Lane or David could ask.


    ¡°I can take care of myself, thanks a lot,¡± Jody grumbled after a moment. ¡°Better than he can, I bet. Has he ever even fought as a wolf?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the issue?¡± David wanted to know. ¡°The Rot? I agree with Jody, maybe then we should send someone older?¡±


    Morgulon shook her head vigorously.


    ¡°The Rot¡¯s not a problem,¡± Mia translated. ¡°Not the problem.¡± Morgulon looked at David directly for the first time, and Mia just said: ¡°Fear.¡±


    ¡°And you think they¡¯ll be less scared of Greg than of me?¡± Jody asked.


    Morgulon shook her head, paused, nodded.


    David didn¡¯t look happy, but like Lane, he looked to Jody and Mia for more explanation.


    ¡°If they¡¯re that scared, do you think they¡¯ll be willing to help?¡± Lane asked when none came.


    Morgulon shrugged.


    ¡°Convince them,¡± Mia said, and ducked her head. ¡°That¡¯s all she¡¯s saying.¡±


    ¡°Can you give us maybe some advice on how, Morgulon?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Greg,¡± Mia sighed.


    ¡°Yes, but I mean, is there anything we can do to help?¡± David tried again.


    This time it was Mia who glared at Morgulon. ¡°I can¡¯t say that¡±, she complained.


    When Lane and David looked at her expectantly, she grimaced. ¡°She just said ¡®be worth it¡¯.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll try,¡± David said dryly.


    ¡°Will you promise?¡± Mia continued.


    ¡°Promise what? To be worth it?¡± David asked, raising his eyebrows.


    Mia looked at Morgulon, who seemed to think about it. ¡°Safety.¡±


    David pressed his lips together. ¡°I can¡¯t promise you that,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°If we lose, there won¡¯t be any safety anywhere on Loegrion. If the Valoise didn¡¯t know before, they do now that you guys can defeat the Rot. They might decide to use captured and enslaved werewolves to drive it out themselves if we lose. And hunt down the rest of you.¡±


    ¡°Promise the duke won¡¯t sell us out once the war is over.¡±


    David smiled tiredly. ¡°I can only promise you that if he does, I¡¯ll do everything I can to make him regret it.¡±


    Morgulon huffed, looking frustrated at Mia. After a moment, the younger werewolf held out her right hand.


    David blinked in surprise, but he grasped it firmly. He considered for a moment and then said: ¡°You have my word that I will do everything in my power to protect not only Greg, but all the werewolves of Loegrion. But I really don¡¯t know how much good that¡¯ll do.¡±


    Morgulon sat up when they shook and gently rested her jaw on the clasped hands.


    ¡°Morgulon reckons you have power,¡± Jody said, still looking a little miffed about Morgulon¡¯s decision to send Greg.


    ¡°I have very little power in this, Morgulon,¡± David disagreed. ¡°Baron is not that high a noble rank.¡±


    ¡°Not that,¡± Jody said. Morgulon grinned a wolfish grin, as she pulled back. Jody blinked, and then she grinned, too, though rather surprised. ¡°Is the duke really in love with you?¡±


    David leaned away from them. ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    But Jody only smiled. ¡°Morgulon thinks you should stay close,¡± she said instead of explaining. ¡°He will heed you.¡±


    ¡°Did you and Morgulon talk about ¨C about George Louis and me?¡± David asked the next morning at breakfast at their hotel.


    Lane shook her head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I told her much about George Louis at all. Morgulon did say that ¨C that lust is a strong smell. That she could smell it when my father was ¨C wanting her. Maybe she ¨C sniffed it out after she defeated the Rot monster in Deva.¡±


    David didn¡¯t look happy. ¡°Even if he wants me that much ¨C she overestimates how much influence I have on him.¡±


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Lane said.


    David frowned at her. ¡°You think she¡¯s right? That I should, I don¡¯t know, hang around Eoforwic more?¡±


    Lane pursed her lips thoughtfully. ¡°I think it couldn¡¯t hurt,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what Morgulon knows or how. And yet... She knew I wouldn¡¯t kill her in the mountains when she saved my life.¡±


    ¡°Hardly the same,¡± David objected. ¡°You would have died, too, if you had.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Lane said. ¡°I would have. Still, for someone who hardly spends any time with humans, that was a pretty astute prediction of human nature, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Or just plain luck,¡± David replied.


    ¡°Or that,¡± Lane admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°We need to send a message to Greg,¡± David changed the topic. ¡°I don¡¯t really like sending him after what Jody said, but I don¡¯t see any other way.¡±


    ¡°Morgulon will want to leave the city today, anyway,¡± Lane said. ¡°We can ride out with her, and then go straight back to First Camp, let Greg know. I¡¯m curious to see his face when he hears that he might be a father.¡±


    David looked down onto his plate at those words.


    ¡°What?¡± Lane asked. ¡°You¡¯re aren¡¯t going to tell him?¡±


    ¡°You really think he¡¯s a possible father?¡± David gave back. ¡°Morgulon told us that any transformation might mean a miscarriage. Considering her demonstration for Audenne, don¡¯t you think it¡¯s more likely this happened after she was back from Deva? Wouldn¡¯t that mean that Greg was already at First Camp when it ¨C well, started?¡±


    Lane shook her head. ¡°That can¡¯t be true, David. Morgulon started building her nest right after her return. She must have already known she was pregnant then. I guess she was just lucky.¡±


    David ran a hand through his hair. ¡°I¡¯ll write to Desmarais that we need his veterinarian here,¡± he decided. ¡°Once we have a better idea of the timing, I¡¯ll let Greg know. There¡¯s no point in freaking him out and possibly ruining his and Thoko¡¯s relationship if it turns out that he wasn¡¯t involved in this at all.¡±


    ¡°Right. But you are going to warn him that you told that journalist he¡¯s a werewolf, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll show him the article, yes.¡±


    Morgulon had preferred to stay with the navvies and the other werewolves at the cheaper hotel. Lane and David went to pick her up, and Morgulon accompanied them all the way to the bridge across the Savre. She said good-bye by washing Lane¡¯s face with her tongue.

 Chapter 55

    Greg felt a little nervous, as Eyal¡¯s camp came into sight, while Thoko at his side lengthened her steps. Greg followed her less enthusiastically, wishing he wasn¡¯t about to face the Morgulon alone. It wasn¡¯t that he was scared of her. There was just something about her ¨C maybe it was all the legends he had heard from other hunters.


    ¡°Greg? Thoko? What on earth are you doing here?¡± Isaac greeted them, as soon as they entered the circle of workmen having their diner.


    ¡°David didn¡¯t tell you?¡± Greg asked. ¡°Morgulon wanted me.¡±


    ¡°Whatever for?¡± Isaac asked, hugging him before Greg could shy away.


    ¡°Apparently, I was chosen to go into the mountains to find other elders.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Isaac said. ¡°So you¡¯re not staying?¡±


    ¡°Afraid not,¡± Greg said.


    Thoko hugged Isaac, too, smiling brightly. ¡°I¡¯m going with him,¡± she said.


    ¡°What?¡± Greg snapped. ¡°No way! You can¡¯t!¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because there are no cages, no camps ¨C nothing for full moon!¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ll climb a tree. It¡¯s just one night, I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Greg just gaped at her, lost for words. Maybe he should have seen this coming, but he had really thought Thoko just wanted to go with him to get back to Isaac and the rest of the old crew.


    ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous,¡± Greg tried again. ¡°You heard what David and Lane said, I¡¯m a werewolf, and the Morgulon still wasn¡¯t sure that these werewolves won¡¯t attack me.¡±


    ¡°They also said you need to convince them to help us, and I bet it¡¯ll help if they need to see someone human for that, too.¡±


    ¡°I bet Thoko is right,¡± Isaac said. ¡°What better way to show them that things are changing than a werewolf who is friends with humans?¡±


    Greg threw his hands into the air. ¡°At least talk to Eyal first,¡± he said, hoping against reason that he would be able to talk her out of it. ¡°I need to find the Morgulon, see where exactly we need to go.¡±


    When he said it, he knew that he had lost, and Thoko grinned at him.


    The Morgulon wouldn¡¯t turn human to talk to him. Greg stood there feeling stupid, face to face with that huge she-wolf.


    ¡°How are you going to tell me where to go then?¡± he asked.


    The Morgulon flicked her ears, staring at him, and suddenly, a strange feeling came over him. He hadn¡¯t even tried to find the tightrope in his mind, but he was up there, and someone was pushing him.


    ¡°Wait,¡± he managed to press out. ¡°Wait. Let me ¨C¡±


    He quickly kneeled down to take off his shoes and clothes, and as soon as he was finished, Morgulon pushed him over the edge, off the tightrope, into his other body. There was nothing he could do to resist. He found himself flat on the ground, grovelling in front of her. The Morgulon huffed in annoyance and turned away.


    She hadn¡¯t said anything ¨C hadn¡¯t given him a sign, and yet he knew, down to his bones, that she was showing him what he might face if he went to find the other elders. They would have power, and they wouldn¡¯t hesitate to use it.


    Greg didn¡¯t dare complain.


    Morgulon growled softly, and he hurried to follow her, just a few steps into the trees. He knew they were moving away from the river, and he knew that he would have to go in this exact direction for many miles. If he could stay the course, he would find another elder¡¯s territory. He was only about twice as old as Bernadette ¨C by no means the oldest one in the mountains. But the one least likely to rip his throat out if he walked into his territory with a human at his side.


    Wait, Greg wanted to say. How did you know?


    He thought Morgulon laughed at him at that.


    How she knew, Greg had no idea, but there was no doubt in her that Thoko would go with him.


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    Had she heard them? Or could Morgulon see the future?


    This time, he was sure that Morgulon was laughing, wolf-tongue lolling out of her mouth.


    Humans are easy to read.


    Greg decided to take her word for it.


    Morgulon approved of that. She stared into the shadows between the trees for about a minute, until Greg knew which directions he could go if the first elder didn¡¯t want to go with him ¨C and he survived.


    How he knew, he had no idea, and before he could ask, he was turning human again.


    The next morning, when Greg climbed out of the tent he had been allowed to borrow, Isaac and Thoko were already busy packing her rucksack.


    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind,¡± she said, looking at him quizzically.


    ¡°Morgulon said you would come.¡±


    Isaac frowned. ¡°How did she know?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea. Maybe she heard us when Thoko announced her plans.¡±


    Thoko nodded. ¡°When are we leaving?¡±


    ¡°First, I need breakfast,¡± Greg grumbled. He still wasn¡¯t sure about this.


    ¡°It¡¯s still three days till full moon,¡± Isaac jibed. ¡°You can¡¯t be that hungry yet.¡±


    Greg ignored him and went to find some food. He had packed his bag back at First Camp. He reckoned he wouldn¡¯t need much, anyway, as he was going to spend most of the time as a wolf. David had restrung his crossbow for him, and otherwise declared it good to go, and he had a full quiver to hunt for game.


    Greg didn¡¯t really like to be reminded of the moon phase. Thoko had made it sound easy, last night, spending a night up in a tree. But he was still worried.


    Eyal sat down across from him, while he filled his bowl with egg and bacon.


    ¡°I hope you are okay with Thoko accompanying you?¡± he asked. ¡°She really wants to go. But if you think it¡¯s too dangerous...¡±


    He looked uneasy, and Greg wondered if he would really try to stop Thoko if he asked him to.


    ¡°Morgulon knew she would go,¡± Greg said, mouth full. ¡°I have no idea how Morgulon knew that, but she seemed to be fine with it. So I guess it¡¯ll be all right? I hope so, at least,¡± he added. ¡°It¡¯s three days till full moon, so... I¡¯d rather she stayed here, but if the Morgulon could somehow predict that she would want to come, and reckons it¡¯ll be fine, then who am I to disagree?¡±


    ¡°Maybe she¡¯ll be able to help you convince other werewolves,¡± Eyal said, looking relieved.


    ¡°Guess we¡¯ll see.¡±


    Greg transformed before they left the camp, and crouched onto the ground. Thoko hugged Eyal and Isaac good-bye, and climbed onto his back.


    ¡°Take care,¡± Eyal said, and Isaac patted Greg¡¯s shoulder before he stepped back. Most of the camp waved after them when Greg took off in an easy trot. News about their mission had gotten around. Ideally, they would find someone to take Morgulon¡¯s place before she gave birth, and since nobody had any idea when that might be, he better be swift.


    It was quiet underneath the trees, and the summer heat was barely diminished by their shade. The air was stagnant as water in a puddle. They paused a little before noon, when they reached the bridge across the Savre, and Greg drank greedily from the water Thoko got from the roadhouse there.


    ¡°You know, we could wait till it gets dark,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Maybe it¡¯ll be less warm then?¡±


    Greg considered that, but then shook his head and crouched down so that she could climb onto his back again. They had no time to hang around.


    They rested again for a while at dusk, but he kept going until midnight, when even the werewolf started to flag.


    ¡°I wonder how far we made it tonight,¡± Thoko said quietly, while she built a small campfire.


    Greg guessed that they had covered at least thirty miles, perhaps even a little more. He wasn¡¯t sure if he would be able to run this much once the moon waned again, so he had to make the most of it. With a little luck, they would make it into the foothills of the Crucible Ridge tomorrow.


    ¡°Will you turn human, the first night of full moon?¡± Thoko asked when he didn¡¯t move.


    Greg nodded. There was no point in putting Thoko at risk more than he had to, and as a wolf, he¡¯d probably just get turned around, anyway, and then he¡¯d have to spend a day to find back to her.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad,¡± Thoko muttered. ¡°This is weird.¡±


    It was slightly less weird for Greg, who had gained a little more experience spending days at a time as the wolf with Bernadette and pack. He still didn¡¯t particularly enjoy it, but he was starting to accept that this was part of his life now. Living like an animal.


    Thoko offered him a piece of bread. ¡°You going to go hunting? On full moon, I mean? I don¡¯t think our food will last much longer than that.¡±


    Greg nodded again.


    Thoko woke him the next morning. The sun was already up, and Greg growled softly. They should have been up with the birds. He drank some more from the creek, and ate some more of the bread they had brought. The wolf didn¡¯t like it much, and Greg felt grumpy by the time Thoko climbed onto his back and they were off again.


    The running helped a little. At least, it improved the wolf¡¯s mood. Greg couldn¡¯t shake the worry about what they were about to do. Who they were about to face.


    Some of the werewolves out there, in the mountains, had to be older than Morgulon, hadn¡¯t they? He had never even entertained the thought before, but surely ¨C if a werewolf actually forsook a life with human civilisation, what was there to hinder them to live to a hundred?


    Okay, maybe not a hundred. Still, from what Bernadette had told him, it was possible for werewolves to live out in the wilderness for years. As far as Greg understood it, they never had to come into lands where humans lived. Many did it anyway, Bernadette had said, even if just to rob some clothes for new moon.


    But surely, somewhere out there were some who didn¡¯t? Some who were too old to be bothered by the Rot. Older than Morgulon, even.


    Greg shuddered at the thought of what she had done to him. It hadn¡¯t hurt. Still, it was extremely disturbing to know that she could force him into changing shape at will. Probably could force him to do other things, too.


    At least the forest around them was already lighter than he had expected, with very little undergrowth, and not even a hint of the Rot. If he hadn¡¯t known better, he would have thought he was back in the heartlands somewhere.


    One good rainfall was probably all it would take to change the picture, but for now, he could rest his head on his paws and go to sleep.

 Chapter 56

    The first night of full moon was even less fun than usual. They were nearly out of food, so Greg helped Thoko to climb one of the big conifers and then went to go hunting. The air was getting more humid by the hour, and he almost hoped for a good thunderstorm, Rot be damned. Everything felt sticky, and there was static in the air.


    There would be a thunderstorm. Or a forest fire. Or, worst option, both.


    Greg kept glancing up into the trees, trying to see the sky, to make sure there were no clouds forming yet. He couldn¡¯t leave Thoko alone if there was even a chance of rain.


    He had no idea what they should do if there really was a fire.


    The tension in the air made Greg even more twitchy than he usually was this time of the month, and he didn¡¯t manage to make game until the early morning hours. By then, there was a huge wall of black clouds moving in, and he had to jog back to Thoko and her tree with the dead roe deer over his shoulders. The full moon hunger made him wish for something bigger, meatier, like a red or fallow deer, but at least he could carry this doe fairly easily.


    He found Thoko still safe, high up in a crutch of two large branches, mostly looking bored.


    ¡°I was starting to worry you got lost,¡± Thoko called down and started climbing at once. ¡°Or, you know, lost yourself,¡± she added when she was nearly back on the ground.


    Greg wanted to growl at her for letting the fire go out before he remembered how stupid that was.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he muttered, and dropped the dead deer, started gutting it.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s safe to get the fire going again?¡± Thoko asked.


    Greg looked around and ran a hand through the dry as bone pine needles on the ground. There were ways to minimize the risk even in weather like this, but he had never had to worry about that himself.


    ¡°I wish David were here,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°But we can¡¯t eat the meat raw, so we need to...¡± He looked up. ¡°We need to move. Find a place where there won¡¯t be any branches above our fire. Ideally, a small clearing. The biggest open space we can find. Just let me finish this, we¡¯ll leave the entrails right here. Can you start on a hole? There¡¯s a hatchet in my pack.¡±


    Thoko nodded, got the hatchet, and began to dig to hide the entrails.


    ¡°We gotta hurry,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t like the look of those clouds.¡±


    Greg nodded. ¡°Yeah, me neither. Might not reach us, though. Doesn¡¯t seem to have moved any closer for a while now.¡±


    ¡°As long as there¡¯s no fire,¡± Thoko muttered.


    Greg didn¡¯t say anything to that. Any other day, he would have turned wolf ¨C at least that way he would have smelled any smoke earlier. He also thought he might be able to outrun a forest fire in his other body, provided the wind wasn¡¯t driving it directly at them.


    But tonight was full moon. The second night. The worst part of it.


    They were lucky to find a small clearing fast, and started digging a hole for the fire immediately.


    ¡°It needs to be deep,¡± Greg explained. ¡°Three feet, if we can make it.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s it going to draw air?¡±


    ¡°Second hole, connected by a small tunnel,¡± Greg explained.


    ¡°Sun, I hope I remember this right,¡± he muttered to himself.


    There was a trick to building up the fire that would minimize both smoke and flying embers, but Greg wasn¡¯t sure he remembered all of it, and he had never done it himself. Nathan was the wilderness survival expert, for all that he claimed to hate this ¡°fiddly work¡±. David, too, of course.


    Greg kept glancing up at the towering thunder clouds, which seemed to just have stopped in the sky.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s raining over there,¡± Thoko said.


    Greg just nodded. He was trying to focus on the digging, to drown out the wolf¡¯s full moon fury and mad hunger.


    ¡°Greg?¡± Thoko asked.


    Greg jumped and snapped, ¡°What?¡± at her before he could catch himself.


    ¡°I was ¨C asking what we do if there is a fire,¡± Thoko said. ¡°I don¡¯t think you even heard me?¡±


    Greg hacked at the ground again. ¡°I¡¯ve got ¨C like a ringing in my ears.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re hungry.¡±


    ¡°You have no idea,¡± Greg muttered.


    He glanced over his shoulders at the huge, towering cloud again, which threw a shadow at the small mountain¡¯s flank across the valley. They heard thunder rumbling, but it didn¡¯t rain on their side of the valley. Maybe he¡¯d get lucky, and actually get some breakfast before they had to run from the weather.


    ¡°Do you want me to talk about something or shut up?¡± Thoko asked.


    Greg hadn¡¯t expected the question, and he jumped again. He was even more surprised when he realized that he did want her to keep talking.


    ¡°Tell me something funny,¡± Greg muttered.


    ¡°Something funny?¡± Thoko repeated. ¡°That¡¯s a tall order. Let me see... Can you dance?¡±


    Greg gave her a blank look.


    ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s just ¨C so the one joke my father would keep repeating over and over was ¡®Why are dogs bad dancers?¡¯¡±


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Greg sighed.


    ¡°Well, because they have two left feet.¡± Thoko ducked her head. ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s not all that funny, I know.¡±


    ¡°Dog jokes, really?¡± Greg asked. He was smiling, despite himself.


    ¡°Well, it is full moon, what other day would I tell them?¡±


    ¡°Mind if I ask ¨C if I ask what you did with your father¡¯s body?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Dad¡¯s ¨C oh. That wasn¡¯t really an issue,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Eoforwic has catacombs. Mother sometimes ¨C goes to visit,¡± she added quietly. ¡°But we really ¨C he needs to be buried properly, not ¨C stored in a shelf. It¡¯s just not right. Underground isn¡¯t the same as ¨C as being part of the earth, to go back and join his ancestors.¡±


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    Greg nodded quietly.


    ¡°Do you think the duke will keep his word?¡±


    ¡°No idea,¡± Greg sighed, and carefully blew through the side-hole he had dug, into the tiny flame. It caught even quicker than he had expected. ¡°You can always bury him at Courtenay, though. If George Louis does go back on his word.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Thoko said, sounding needlessly surprised. ¡°Thank you so much! Are you sure your parents won¡¯t mind?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Greg watched critically how the fire grew, and listened with only half an ear while Thoko told him about her childhood back in Maravi, about relocating to Loegrion when she was just a child


    ¡°It was so weird, coming to a country where there was so much rain ¨C so much water. And so few people looking like me,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Standing out everywhere we went, as soon as we got past the harbour at Deggan. But then we got to Breachpoint, and there was a community there of people from home, and it was okay. It was good, until d¡¯Evier came here, and...¡±


    Greg nodded, but quickly looked away when she wiped the tears away.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she added. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to bother you with this, not today.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Greg hurried to say. He sat up. Opened his arms hesitatingly. ¡°It¡¯s not a bother, really,¡± he added. ¡°Come here?¡±


    She did, and he hugged her. He wasn¡¯t sure how much good it did. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your father,¡± he said after a moment and wished he had something better to say.


    Thoko nodded, sniffing quietly, and pulled away.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said quietly. ¡°I know this is hard for you, today.¡±


    Greg smiled wearily. ¡°It¡¯s fine, really. I don¡¯t ¨C I mean, these are human emotions. Makes it easier to ignore the other ones.¡±


    He turned back to his fire and decided it was big enough to throw some meat on it.


    ¡°Have you ever left Loegrion?¡± Thoko changed the topic.


    Greg shook his head. ¡°No, you¡¯re much more well-travelled than I am. I would have liked to, one day. You know, take the Grand Tour.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Thoko asked.


    ¡°Oh it¡¯s ¨C it¡¯s young nobles, mostly landed gentry, or rich merchant¡¯s sons travelling the Empire to learn about it, see the sights, find some culture along the way.¡±


    ¡°Right, cause you are such an uncultured heathen,¡± Thoko teased.


    ¡°A heathen for sure,¡± Greg sighed, and poked at the meat with a stick.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to eat it that raw, you could have saved yourself the effort of making a fire,¡± Thoko pointed out  when he started at one of the pieces.


    ¡°Principal of the thing,¡± Greg gave back, mouth full. ¡°Humans cook their meat. So do I.¡±


    He sighed again and stared at the dead deer. ¡°Should have found more game,¡± he muttered. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to last the night.¡±


    ¡°We can put it up in a tree, too,¡± Thoko suggested.


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°But you want to find out how much of it you can eat in one day first, huh?¡±


    Greg started at a second steak and didn¡¯t answer.


    To his relief, Thoko continued talking after a few minutes, telling him about her mother, the community at Breachpoint, just little things. Her voice was calmer now, even, and it gave him something to listen to, something other than the mad howling that existed only inside his own head.


    They stayed at their little fire until late in the afternoon, watching the thundercloud empty itself over the other mountain flank, but then a second one appeared right above them. It didn¡¯t start a fire, but it drenched them to the bones, and they had to find a new place where Thoko could spend the night safe from the Rot. Because werewolves might not be able to climb trees, but the Rot surely could.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t even made it out of Crucible Ridge, and we might already be in trouble,¡± Greg grumbled, as they walked up the slope.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Thoko said.


    Where she took that reassurance from, Greg couldn¡¯t fathom.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you tell me yourself that Bernadette said there¡¯s less Rot higher in the mountains?¡± Thoko said, as if she had read his mind.


    ¡°They hinted at something like that, yes,¡± Greg admitted.


    ¡°Well, then, let¡¯s see how much higher we can make it up this slope.¡± Thoko pointed up the mountain.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be colder up there, during the night.¡±


    ¡°Is that supposed to be a negative? I am melting.¡±


    They dropped their weary limbs onto the ground as the sun vanished behind the mountain, but they didn¡¯t have much time to rest. Greg hoisted Thoko up into a tree, which lowest branches were about ten feet of the ground. He could only pray that it would be enough to keep her safe.


    He left her there and walked off briskly, down the slope he had just climbed with her. The further away he could get before the sun vanished completely and he had to transform, the better.


    He had no idea what he would do with himself if he hurt her.


    There was no point in fighting against the transformation, not on this night, but Greg couldn¡¯t help himself. He didn¡¯t want that other ¨C thing ¨C inside his mind to come out, didn¡¯t want to surrender control. It was still scaring him. Not just the fear of hurting someone, but also the thought that, maybe, this time he wouldn¡¯t come back. He knew that it was extremely unlikely, that there were no records about something like that to happen to someone this late after. But that couldn¡¯t quench the sheer terror of losing himself, of feeling his very soul getting torn just as his body was ripped apart and reassembled.


    So he fought, even though there was no winning this struggle. Even though it hurt.


    It hurt again when he came back to himself, into his own body, and then he had to go through the pain once more to become the wolf again, so he wouldn¡¯t waste time trying to find his clothes and Thoko again.


    He had to sit down, weak with relief, when he found her in her tree, perfectly safe.


    They had more of the meat from deer he had killed the day before and then walked a little further in the direction Morgulon had told him to go.


    ¡°How far do we have to go, anyway?¡± Thoko asked.


    ¡°Morgulon didn¡¯t think we¡¯d get there before new moon,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°I see. Did she tell you anything about this elder we¡¯re looking for?¡±


    ¡°Well, she did think he was least likely to kill us on sight.¡±


    ¡°Which he would be able to?¡±


    ¡°Oh, absolutely. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d even be able to put up a fight. Like, did I tell you she forced me into a transformation, when I talked to her? Couldn¡¯t stop it.¡±


    ¡°She forced you to ¨C to turn wolf?¡±


    Greg nodded. ¡°Like she just ¨C directly ordered the wolf to come out, completely circumventing, you know, me.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± Thoko muttered. ¡°No, you hadn¡¯t said. Think this other werewolf will be able to do that, too?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Greg said. ¡°He¡¯s not the oldest one out there,¡± he added. ¡°But older than Bernadette. So, maybe.¡±


    ¡°Think we¡¯ll meet someone older than the Morgulon?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if we did.¡±


    Greg went out hunting again at night, but the best he got was a couple of large rabbits. He was shocked, when at his return Thoko wasn¡¯t in the tree where he had left her, but rather going through the underbrush, foraging.


    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± he hissed at her.


    Thoko just offered him a hand full of juicy blackberries. In her other hand, she held some large roots she had dug up. Greg was too hungry to resist.


    ¡°¡¯S still too risky,¡± he grumbled.


    Thoko shrugged. ¡°The ground is dry as dust here,¡± she pointed out. ¡°If there is any Rot about, it¡¯s not coming out until a lot more rainfall. And we need food that¡¯ll keep longer than the meat.¡±


    ¡°We can dry some meat,¡± Greg tried to argue. But he knew she was right. The more food they had, the better. There was a long way ahead of them.


    He just didn¡¯t like the risk.


    They walked a few more miles until the temperatures rose again and they lay down close to a small, fast-running little creek. Its stony bed hopefully wouldn¡¯t allow the Rot to fester. When night fell, Greg transformed into the giant wolf, and Thoko climbed onto his back, and he ran until the next morning.


    That was their new routine: Rest during the heat of the day, travel during the night, which had the advantage that Greg didn¡¯t have to guard them against the Rot came nightfall. Just like Greg had feared, the distance they travelled declined as the moon waned and they journeyed deeper into the Crucible Ridge. They still made it out of the mountains by half moon. After that, they spent a fun day crossing the river Abhain that separated the Crucible Ridge from the much higher Argentum Formation  and was nearly as Rot-infested as the Savre, so they could only do it in bright daylight. Greg swam across, with Thoko clinging to his back.


    They were supposed to find the first elder in the Argentum Formation. If they had no luck with them, they might have to go further, into the High Plains.


    ¡°It¡¯s new moon soon,¡± Thoko pointed out one evening. ¡°How far are we from the coach road?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Greg admitted. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I was just wondering if you wanted to go find an inn.¡±


    Greg hesitated half a second, but then he shook his head. ¡°Even if I had any idea where that is, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s time. I don¡¯t know why, but I keep feeling like we¡¯re going too slow.¡±


    ¡°You think because of the Morgulon?¡±


    ¡°Her, the war, the Rot ¨C I don¡¯t know,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°The summer is almost over. We¡¯ve been really lucky with the weather thus far, but what if it starts raining more again? Will three elders be enough to keep everyone working on the railway safe then, when they¡¯re working so close to the Savre? Just ¨C if we could be back before the equinox...¡±


    Thoko nodded as he trailed off. ¡°Let¡¯s keep walking?¡± she asked.


    Greg nodded, even though he was weary down to his bones. Another night till new moon, and all he wanted was to throw himself down onto the ground and go to sleep.


    But they kept walking anyway, all the way through new moon.


    Morgulon had said that they wouldn¡¯t make the journey before then, Greg tried to calm himself, when that feeling came back, that strange urgency. They were still on schedule, there was no point to panic just yet.

 Chapter 57

    ¡°We¡¯re getting close.¡±


    Greg could have cried with relief when he began to feel like he knew the area, when the curves of the mountains started to line up with the picture the Morgulon had somehow left in his head. And it was only the day right after new moon.


    ¡°Should we ¨C maybe announce ourselves?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°I mean, maybe you should announce yourself? With a howl?¡±


    ¡°We haven¡¯t crossed into their territory yet.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but if they¡¯re within hearing distance? Might be nice to tell them we¡¯re coming before we cross?¡±


    ¡°Maybe tomorrow night,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not going to turn today.¡±


    He did transform the next day and threw his head back into a long howl. He still wasn¡¯t entirely firm on how to communicate as a wolf, but he hoped he managed to convey a message of ¡°we come in peace, may we approach?¡±


    They¡¯d approach anyway, but he tried not to think of that.


    Mostly, Greg thought, he ended up sounding tired.


    It took more than four hours before they got an answer, loud enough that even Thoko twitched on his back.


    ¡°Please tell me that was a ¡®come on over, we¡¯ve got food¡¯,¡± she sighed, once the echo had died.


    Greg nodded to the ¡°come on over¡± part, and shook his head on the food.


    ¡°Great. You going to go hunting tonight?¡±


    Greg nodded again.


    Early the next morning they crossed the border. Greg had half expected to find the same kind of scent markings regular wolves used, but instead, it was more of a magical aura. At least they wouldn¡¯t have to worry about the Rot any longer.


    Now they just had to worry about the potentially hostile elder werewolf.


    Greg closed his eyes for a second and let his head swing left and right until he was fairly certain he knew which direction the elder was, and then started walking slowly, with Thoko at his back, as safe as she could be.


    Hopefully, it would be enough.


    They didn¡¯t have to go far. Just as the day started warming up again, Greg heard the light footfall of paws in the underbrush, just out of sight.


    And then he walked into a wall of the unseen elder¡¯s power, and he stopped, wincing.


    He was still blinking in confusion when the man stepped out between the trees, a tall guy, with a wild beard and mane of black and brown hair. He wore nothing but pants, which was more than Greg had expected.


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    His yellow eyes flashed with anger.


    ¡°Human,¡± he huffed. His voice was rough as if he had yelled himself hoarse over this already. ¡°What do you want here?¡±


    Six other werewolves appeared behind him. All of them older than Greg, all of them wolf.


    ¡°The Morgulon sends us,¡± Thoko said.


    Greg could feel her fingers digging into the fur on his neck, but her voice was perfectly steady.


    A growl went up all around them, and the elder barked at his pack.


    ¡°What the hell for, human?¡±


    Greg wanted to transform, to explain ¨C this was what he had been sent here for! ¨C but he couldn¡¯t move a muscle, let alone find the mental balance to turn human.


    He could hear Thoko taking a deep breath. ¡°Do you ¨C know anything about what is happening with the humans in the rest of the country right now?¡± she asked. ¡°A lot of things are changing. We¡¯re building a railway from Eoforwic to Mannin, and ¨C¡°


    ¡°Eoforwic to Mannin? Shit, that¡¯s gotta take a lot of Alchemy.¡±


    ¡°None at all,¡± Thoko said hurriedly. ¡°Just werewolves. The Morgulon is there, and Bernadette and Calder, I don¡¯t know if you know them...?¡±


    ¡°Children,¡± grumbled the elder in front of them. ¡°Yeah, I know them. Bernadette always had a soft heart for your kind. How¡¯d the Morgulon get involved in that mess?¡±


    Thoko ran her fingers through Greg¡¯s fur again. ¡°Duke George Louis wants to take the crown of Loegrion. He needs the railway for that. For the railway, he needs werewolves. He is making it illegal to hunt werewolves who are ¨C sane.¡±


    There was another round of growls at that.


    ¡°Yeah, and then it¡¯s full moon, and they chop our heads off.¡±


    ¡°On the contrary,¡± Thoko said. Greg was amazed at how her voice wasn¡¯t shaking. ¡°It¡¯s illegal to hunt werewolves on full moon. Any hunter who kills a werewolf without a crown warrant or a trial ¨C and the trial has to happen first ¨C will be themselves bitten. There are even volunteers, people who are sick, who line up to be considered for a bite, to survive.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± grumbled the elder flatly.


    ¡°The Morgulon sent us,¡± Thoko repeated. ¡°How else could we have found you? She¡¯s expecting children of her own soon.¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯s what ¨C your dog?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s my friend,¡± Thoko replied, and now there was a growl to her voice, too.


    ¡°If that is true, then get off his back.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯ll prove what, exactly?¡± Thoko asked back.


    ¡°I¡¯d just like to have a word with him. You stay away from me.¡±


    Thoko hesitated a second longer but did slide off of Greg¡¯s back. Greg moved forward. He couldn¡¯t stop himself. But when he stood right in front of the elder werewolf, he did manage a low growl, and half turned his head to look at Thoko.


    ¡°The human was telling the truth, after all,¡± muttered the elder. ¡°At least about that. How very strange.¡±


    Greg closed his eyes. This wasn¡¯t the Morgulon. This elder didn¡¯t have the same kind of raw power, and when he focused, he managed to plant his paws a little wider, digging his claws into the dirt.


    The older man half frowned, half smiled. ¡°Really, kid? You¡¯re gonna fight me? Us?¡±


    If that was what it took to get Thoko out of here safely.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    One werewolf sniggered, another one growled, but the elder just raised one hand without looking at his pack. ¡°She¡¯s telling the truth?¡± he wanted to know. ¡°They are making it illegal to hunt werewolves?¡±


    Greg nodded, but he was fairly sure he needn¡¯t have.


    ¡°What about the Mad Butcher?¡±


    It took Greg a few seconds to remember that that was the name other werewolves called deLande. But how he was supposed to explain what had happened between her and the Morgulon, he had no idea.


    ¡°The Morgulon herself saved her life,¡± Thoko replied in his place, and Greg nodded. ¡°They¡¯re working together.¡±


    ¡°There is no way ¨C¡° The elder broke off and stared at Greg. After a few seconds, he started shaking his head, asking, ¡°What about, can¡¯t remember his name, that black guy?¡±


    ¡°Bram Feleke?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°He quit hunting. You¡¯re looking at his son.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C what?¡± the elder asked, and just kept shaking his head.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he sighed eventually. ¡°Come along. I need to hear the whole story.¡±

 Chapter 58

    Thoko climbed onto Greg¡¯s back again, while the pack surrounded them. The other werewolves all kept their distance, as they followed the elder, who was setting up a brisk pace. Greg was panting with the heat.


    Eventually, they reached a steep mountainside with an open area in front. Several caves gaped in the stony cliff. Greg wondered if this pack had children, too. If they did, he couldn¡¯t see or hear any, but they might be keeping quiet because of the human in their camp.


    The elder sat down right on the dry grass, and most of the pack spread out around him. About half of the other werewolves turned human and lounged nakedly in the sun, two remained wolves, and the last one slunk away into one of the caves. A minute later, an old man returned, also wearing pants. One huge scar and a network of smaller ones covered his narrow chest. Greg recognized werewolf-bites, and couldn¡¯t help but wonder how the old man had survived that, considering how slow these injuries must have healed.


    The elder werewolf looked strangely at the old man, as he settled down.


    Greg himself hesitated only a moment before he transformed. Thoko handed him his clothes and almost managed to pretend that this was perfectly normal for them.


    ¡°Well then,¡± the elder grumbled. ¡°Your names, human?¡±


    ¡°Greg Feleke,¡± Greg said, mostly because he didn¡¯t like the way the elder talked over him. ¡°Her name is Thoko. What should we call you?¡±


    The elder glared at him, and Greg cringed a little under the weight of his annoyance but managed not to look away.


    The old man with the scar grinned and winked at him.


    ¡°You can call me Theo,¡± said the elder finally. ¡°Now, let¡¯s hear this crazy tale. Your father is a werewolf hunter?¡±


    ¡°Was,¡± Greg said. ¡°Like Thoko said, he quit hunting when I got bitten.¡±


    He had planned to give just a short explanation of what had brought them out here but quickly realized that the pack wasn¡¯t after a succinct report of the facts. Rather, they wanted to hear a story. Thoko joined in, and they did their best to make it entertaining. Greg soon found himself exaggerating Duke Desmarais¡¯s reaction when he transformed at Castle Blanc for the first time, and he tried to remember everything David had said about the fight between the Rot-giant at Deva Castle against Fenn and the Morgulon.


    ¡°That was quite a tall tale,¡± Theo said when Greg finally fell silent. ¡°And we thank you for that, so you may stay the night if you want to.¡±


    ¡°But do you want to come with us?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°No.¡± Theo looked around at his pack, and his gaze settled on the old man with the scarred chest. ¡°I can hardly stop anyone who wants to go,¡± he added. ¡°But I have no interest in human wars or human politics. You shouldn¡¯t either, Greg,¡± he added, not unkindly. ¡°You may be too young to realize this, but humans are not like us. There is nothing to gain from getting mixed up in their pointless disputes.¡±


    Greg opened his mouth ¨C he wasn¡¯t sure himself if he was going to disagree, or say something to maybe defend his family, or otherwise convince Theo ¨C when the old man with the scars got up and walked over, offering his hand to Thoko.


    ¡°Lenny¡¯s the name,¡± he introduced himself eagerly. ¡°You going straight back?¡±


    At those words, Theo grumbled into his beard.


    Greg looked a little dazed at Lenny, while Thoko shook his hand. Lenny dropped back onto the ground next to them.


    ¡°Right,¡± Thoko caught herself. ¡°You want to come with us? That¡¯s great! Mind if I ask how long you¡¯ve been a werewolf?¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Lenny said. ¡°That¡¯s the tricky bit, yes? You want the oldest ones only?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Greg¡¯s only been a werewolf for about a year and a half, and he¡¯s one of our older ones, actually.¡±


    That was a bit of an exaggeration, but Greg kept his mouth shut.


    ¡°Oh, well, I guess that shouldn¡¯t surprise me,¡± Lenny said. ¡°Guess anyone older has either ran off or died, yes?¡±


    ¡°Mostly died,¡± Thoko admitted. ¡°The ban on hunting has only been in effect since the summer solstice.¡±


    There was a murmur around the pack.


    ¡°How can you be sure they aren¡¯t going to change their minds again?¡± a woman wanted to know. She was about David¡¯s age, probably of Valoisian descend.


    ¡°Because, if they do, the Valoise will overrun them, and the people responsible for the rebellion, mainly the Dukes George Louis and Desmarais, will be executed,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°And you trust them.¡± The woman was clearly sceptical.


    ¡°I trust my family,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°You can also trust in the work crews,¡± Thoko said. ¡°They¡¯re putting their lives in your hands. Without Greg, we ¨C our whole crew, including me ¨C would have died on the line to Sheaf.¡±


    Theo frowned. ¡°But there¡¯ll be war, you said it yourself. So you¡¯re not here to hire us for that railway work. You¡¯re here to conscript us to fight the Valoise.¡±


    Greg nodded slowly. ¡°Yes, there¡¯ll be war,¡± he said. ¡°But the Valoise don¡¯t have werewolf hunters, and anyway, we¡¯re needed to fight the Rot much more than their soldiers. Only if their priests raise it, we¡¯ll be needed.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯ve already got the Morgulon,¡± another woman said. She had light brown hair, that was going grey, and wolfish eyes. ¡°What do you need us for?¡±


    ¡°Even the Morgulon can¡¯t be everywhere at once,¡± Greg said. ¡°And she¡¯ll want to stay with the cubs for at least a while.¡±


    ¡°You should¡¯ve gone to find the Red then,¡± the younger woman said.


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Greg asked. ¡°And where can we find them?¡±


    Silence fell around the camp, and all eyes turned to Theo.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t tell you?¡± he finally asked. ¡°The Red must be the oldest werewolf alive, now that the Old One is dead.¡±


    ¡°The werewolf who protected the White Torrent?¡± Thoko asked.


    Theo nodded. ¡°The Red raised the Morgulon,¡± he said. ¡°After her family was murdered. Old loner lives way north of Clyde¡¯s Pass, probably the reason why she didn¡¯t send you to find him. You¡¯d never get there and back before winter hits.¡±


    Greg nodded slowly. He was half tempted to try and find this ¡°Red¡± anyway.


    ¡°If you¡¯re not willing to come with us, would one of you be willing to try and find him?¡± Thoko asked.


    Greg looked around without much hope and was surprised when one of the two werewolves who hadn¡¯t turned human got up and trotted over, sniffing, as if she was looking for a scent. After a few seconds, the werewolf wagged her tail once, turned around, and walked off.


    Theo sighed, but made no attempt to stop her. ¡°You¡¯re going to cut my pack in half,¡± he grumbled.


    Greg wondered if he should apologize for that.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Theo growled as if he¡¯d read the thought off Greg¡¯s face. ¡°The Morgulon sent you, not your fault. Wouldn¡¯t have tried to resist her, myself.¡±


    The elder werewolf shook his head again, and abruptly changed the topic. ¡°I see you guys brought fresh meat. Going to share?¡±


    Greg looked at the one remaining wolf, then at the wild sheep he¡¯d shot yesterday. ¡°Sure,¡± he said, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure they had enough to feed the whole pack. Especially not if one of them remained wolf.


    ¡°Is it okay if we start a fire?¡± he added because he didn¡¯t feel much like eating the game raw.


    ¡°You are going to start a fire?¡± Theo asked, sceptical.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, yes,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°What did you bring her for, then?¡± Theo asked, and chuckled as if that had been a great joke. ¡°Keep the smoke away from the dens,¡± the elder added when Greg didn¡¯t laugh. ¡°Don¡¯t think anyone will object to something grilled.¡±


    The pack retreated a good distance when Greg began to dig another hole for their fire. Only Lenny stayed close enough that they could talk without shouting.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re making a fire with your two hands,¡± the old man said.


    ¡°You mean you don¡¯t?¡± Thoko asked while taking the game apart. ¡°Not even in winter?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all staying wolves throughout the winter,¡± Lenny said.


    ¡°What about new moon?¡±


    ¡°We stay inside our dens on new moon,¡± Lenny said, nodding towards the caves. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you make your werewolves work through that.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Thoko said. ¡°There¡¯s no way they could fight the Rot on new moon. We all stay inside our camps then, too.¡±


    Lenny wanted to know more about the railway, and Thoko told him about the different stages of the work, about Eyal, and Isaac, and their family. It took Greg a while to realize that the one werewolf who hadn¡¯t transformed was listening in from where he had spread out in the sun.


    Thoko seemed to notice it, too, because she went on: ¡°The camps are getting pretty comfortable, too. The crews are putting up housing for anyone who prefers a firm roof over their head. First Camp even has a Pub, first drink for every werewolf is free on new moon.¡±


    ¡°And after that?¡± Lenny asked promptly.


    ¡°Oh, you guys get paid,¡± Thoko said. ¡°At least if you contract with Eyal or Gavrel. Paid in copper,¡± she added. ¡°It¡¯s not a lot, I¡¯ll admit, but you get free food with all the crews. At least if you¡¯re willing to eat the rations everyone else is eating. Greg usually goes to get extra, especially on full moon, but he¡¯s not dependent on his salary, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Free food?¡± Lenny repeated. ¡°With any crew? No way.¡±


    ¡°They have to feed you,¡± Thoko explained. ¡°There¡¯s no time for you guys to go hunting, the Rot around the Savre is too dangerous. You¡¯ll get clothes, too, if you want to stay human mostly. You never did say how long you¡¯ve been a werewolf,¡± she added.


    ¡°Seven years this summer,¡± Lenny said. ¡°It¡¯s not impressive, I know. But I guess every little bit counts?¡±


    ¡°Seven years, huh,¡± Thoko said. ¡°That makes you very nearly an elder.¡±


    ¡°A what?¡±


    ¡°The Morgulon mentioned that after about a hundred full moons, the bigger Rot creatures are no issues anymore, in a fight,¡± Thoko explained. ¡°We call them elders.¡±


    Lenny laughed at that. ¡°Me, an elder? No way. Seriously. No way. Theo is barely an elder. The Red, he¡¯s an elder. And I¡¯ll grant you, the Morgulon isn¡¯t that old, but she¡¯s, well, the Morgulon. But me? No way.¡±


    When he realized that Thoko was serious, he laughed again, and called out to the werewolf listening in: ¡°Hey, Broke, wanna be an elder werewolf?¡±


    The werewolf thumped his tail on the ground lazily.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Lenny asked, looking at Thoko again. When she nodded, he added: ¡°Any advantage in that for me?¡±


    Thoko shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t make any promises,¡± she said. ¡°For now, all werewolves get send to the railway, cause we need the lines. Transport coal, and steel, and all that, to make weapons for the war effort. So you won¡¯t have much of a choice about who you want to hire up with. Once the lines are built ¨C well, there are already nobles looking for werewolves to keep their estates safe. They probably would prefer to hire you over hiring a criminal who was given the choice between getting bitten and the rope.¡±


    ¡°David said they want more of us guarding the coasts, too,¡± Greg chimed in.


    Lenny¡¯s face lit up at that. ¡°Think they¡¯ll let me go to Breachpoint? I¡¯ve got family in a village just north of there.¡±


    Greg opened his mouth, closed it again. ¡°I ¨C guess so? The coast, that¡¯ll be the frontline. If you want to volunteer for that, I don¡¯t see why anyone would stop you.¡±


    Lenny beamed at that. ¡°I¡¯ll see my grandkids,¡± he muttered. ¡°I can¡¯t believe... I promised myself I¡¯d go back, no matter what, to see them at least once,¡± he added, looking up. ¡°Never thought there was a chance I might actually see them grow up, though.¡±


    ¡°Do you know anyone else who has family in Loegrion?¡± Greg asked.


    Lenny shook his head sadly. ¡°Don¡¯t mention family to the others of this pack,¡± he said softly. ¡°It¡¯s a sore point for all of them, one way or the other.¡±


    ¡°And anywhere else?¡±


    ¡°Let me think about it.¡±


    Lenny backed away further when Greg lit some dry grass and dropped it into his earth hole, a lot less deep now that they were out of the forest, where he had carefully piled up some twigs. They caught fire within moments.


    Greg sat back from the fire and looked around the camp. An idea had struck him, and he walked over to where he had dropped his pack. He rummaged through it, until, right at the bottom, he found a small tin. He had forgotten he had brought this at all.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Thoko asked when he handed it over.


    ¡°Salt,¡± Greg explained. ¡°One of Andrew¡¯s rules for hunting: Always carry salt. I bought this back a year ago when we first left Eoforwic. Should be still good, though.¡±


    Thoko nodded and looked through the herbs and roots she had collected in the forest. Salt would make a good addition to everything else they had.


    Once the smell of juicy meat, sizzling over the flames, wafted through the camp, the pack drew in closer again. Even Broke turned human for the occasion and found a pair of pants somewhere. He never spoke a word, though, and neither did the last guy. Lenny told them in a whisper that the pack called him Blackpatch, because of the burn scar in his face, which apparently was black in his wolf shape.


    ¡°His own mother,¡± Lenny added softly. ¡°Not sure he even remembers his real name.¡±


    Blackpatch was the oldest, after Theo, and had been a werewolf for over seventeen years. He¡¯d probably been a couple of years younger than Greg had been when he¡¯d been bitten. Theo had been a werewolf for more than twenty years, and the two remaining women, Maela and Nolwenn, were both at about the ten years mark.


    Each one of them a potential elder, if they could only convince them to come with them.


    ¡°What¡¯s the name of the one who went to find the Red?¡± Thoko asked Lenny.


    ¡°Larissa,¡± Lenny said.


    Thoko nodded and turned to Maela. ¡°When she comes back here, will you thank her for doing that?¡±


    Maela nodded but ran a hand through her long, greying hair. ¡°She might not return for a long time,¡± she said. ¡°Larissa isn¡¯t one to settle down. Wouldn¡¯t even be surprised if she comes by to see this railway enterprise herself.¡±


    Greg looked up from stoking the fire. Before he could ask, Maela added: ¡°She¡¯s an elder, as you guys count it. Sixteen this summer.¡±


    ¡°Well, she would be very welcome,¡± Thoko said.


    ¡°You guys are awfully sure that it¡¯ll all be all right for people like us,¡± Maela sniffed. ¡°Your duke hasn¡¯t even been crowned king, has he? All you have is a few new laws, now, because they need us. There¡¯s no telling what things will be like five years from now.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Greg admitted. ¡°There isn¡¯t. But nothing will get better if we don¡¯t take the risk. We need to show people that we¡¯re no monsters, or they¡¯ll never lose their fear.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say,¡± Theo grumbled.


    ¡°I¡¯m not even sure I want them to lose their fear,¡± Nolwenn said. ¡°It¡¯s the only thing stopping them from coming up here and killing us everywhere.¡±


    ¡°People will try and find you here, anyway,¡± Thoko said quietly. ¡°I realize that¡¯s not what you want to hear. But the secret is out. Both the Loegrians and the Valoise now know that werewolves can fight the Rot. No matter who wins, they¡¯ll try to find werewolves to fight for them. If the Lackland rebellion fails, you¡¯ll have to retreat at least into the High Plains, maybe even all the way up into the northern woodlands.¡±


    Greg wished Thoko hadn¡¯t said that when the other werewolves glared at them.


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that it¡¯s in our own best interest to help you,¡± Theo growled. ¡°Awfully convenient.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s your choice,¡± Thoko said. ¡°That¡¯s why the Morgulon sent us, not a bunch of hunters with cages.¡±


    ¡°And this duke or yours doesn¡¯t mind,¡± Nolwenn said, sounding doubtful.


    ¡°Greg¡¯s father is an advisor of Duke Desmarais, and Greg¡¯s brother is an advisor of Duke George Louis,¡± Thoko said. ¡°And Lane deLande ¨C the Mad Butcher, as you call her ¨C owes her life to the Morgulon. She agreed to not push the Morgulon to reveal any werewolf¡¯s territory to anyone other than Greg. I¡¯m not saying the dukes are totally happy about all this. But there¡¯s also very little they can do right now.¡±


    ¡°Right. Sure. You really want us to believe that our best protection is the Mad Butcher and the Feleke Four?¡± Theo sniffed.


    Thoko seriously seemed to consider the question. ¡°Maybe,¡± she said. ¡°Right now, perhaps. Not much longer, though. A few more months ¨C or however long it takes to complete the line to Mannin ¨C and your best protection will be every navvy who owes their life to a werewolf, and every traveller who takes the railway from Eoforwic to Mannin, crossing in a few hours a distance that would have taken a week before at best ¨C also, maybe more importantly, every merchant transporting his goods quickly and safely. The fishermen of King¡¯s Haven are already clamouring that they want a railway line, too, so they can send fresh fish to the markets at Deva and the southern heartlands. The farmers of Deeshire want lines to Deva and Mannin, so they can sell fresh produce to the cities. And everybody wants a line to Clyde¡¯s Pass, so they can bring whatever goods they have there, in exchange for gold.¡±


    She looked Theo in the eye. ¡°Your very best protection may be all those mothers who are safely giving birth anywhere along the White Torrent. On every single market place in all of the heartlands, a town crier has announced how Duke Desmarais has saved them all from the White Torrent falling to Rot. By finding a sane werewolf, and making him protect the river. And no, I do not deny that most nobles who would love to have their own werewolf are thinking of you as a breed of especially valuable dog, rather than people. But you are valuable to them.¡±


    Thoko looked around the camp. ¡°All of you are. Whether or not that is enough reason for you to go back, that is your choice. You don¡¯t have to decide today, either, or even tomorrow.¡±


    The other werewolves of the pack avoided meeting Thoko¡¯s gaze, and Greg decided to hand Theo the first piece of steak.


    Lenny got the last piece, but was the first to exclaim: ¡°This is really good!¡±


    Greg smiled. Theo didn¡¯t say anything, but Greg could still feel the mood of all the elders lift.


    ¡°Who else is with the railway so far?¡± Maela asked when she started on her second piece.


    ¡°Besides Bernadette, Calder, and the Morgulon?¡± Greg asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone you know. Lee helps my brother find more werewolves, he¡¯s four. And Marianne, she¡¯s two, works for Duke Desmarais, not the railway.¡±


    He listed all the other werewolves he knew, but most of them were so young that he was certain no one on this pack had ever heard about them.


    ¡°You forgot Jody, Mia, and Charles,¡± Thoko added when he paused. ¡°With Eyal¡¯s crew.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg said. ¡°I haven¡¯t spoken to them, yet.¡±


    ¡°I think I might have heard of this Charles,¡± Theo said. ¡°In human years maybe a little younger than Lenny?¡±


    Thoko nodded. ¡°That sounds right.¡±


    Theo nodded. ¡°Morgulon mentioned him when she was here the last time.¡±


    ¡°I take it she travels a lot?¡± Thoko asked.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t say?¡± Theo asked.


    Thoko shrugged. ¡°She only turns human on new moon, and sleeps through most of it. Right now, she doesn¡¯t turn at all. The only human she ever spoke more than three words to is deLande, I think. So she¡¯s still a bit of a mystery.¡±


    Theo smiled at that. ¡°A mystery, that she is. Yeah, she travels a lot. Mostly between the two mountain ranges, but sometimes up into the northern woodlands, too, and all the way to the Central Range. Keeping in contact, you might say. It¡¯s almost as if she was waiting for something like you guys to happen.¡±


    ¡°Are there many werewolves out here, who¡¯re older than her?¡± Greg asked.


    Theo shook his head. ¡°Not many. Significantly older? Maybe a dozen, all in all. But most of them are weak. Too old in human years.¡±


    ¡°Like me,¡± Lenny said, smiling wryly.


    ¡°Older than Lenny,¡± Theo said. ¡°Say, someone who got bitten in their twenties would have to be, oh, at least in their seventies now, for you to really notice a difference in power to her. Cause she was born, not bitten.¡±


    ¡°And being old as humans weakens them?¡± Thoko asked.


    ¡°Sure it does. Not against the Rot, that¡¯s almost entirely magical. But even with the Rot ¨C if you compare the Morgulon with another werewolf who¡¯s been a werewolf as long as she, but bitten, she¡¯ll be stronger in every regard.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Most of the really old ones are unlikely to make the journey to the heartlands.¡±


    He stared at the last glowing embers of Greg¡¯s fire, scratching his shaggy beard.


    ¡°Tell you what,¡± he said after a long while. ¡°I still don¡¯t really trust your dukes and that glowing future you¡¯re painting. But the Morgulon sent you to me, and I don¡¯t take that lightly, either. So I¡¯ll send Maela, to call on a couple of other packs in the area. If they want to, they can reach us sometime tomorrow, and you can tell them. And if not, well, their choice, as you keep saying. Lenny can take you to visit some other groups.¡±


    Greg looked up in surprise. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Thoko echoed.

 Chapter 59

    Maela left soon after the food was gone. Broke and Blackpatch both transformed back into wolves, and Nolwenn vanished into one of the caves. Theo, too, didn¡¯t seem interested in hearing more, but Lenny hung around, asking Thoko about every small detail she remembered about what had occurred around Breachpoint in the past seven years. He clung to her every word as she listed all the names she remembered from the three Inquisitional mass trials, and finally let himself fall backwards with a sigh of relief when he didn¡¯t recognize any of them.


    When darkness fell and Greg built a fire against the cold mountain night, the pack came closer again. Nolwenn and Theo were more interested in Greg¡¯s story and everything he would tell them about his family of werewolf hunters than the gossip.


    Greg didn¡¯t wake for Maela¡¯s return sometime during the night, but he did wake up at the distant howling just after dawn. It wasn¡¯t loud, but it was pervasive.


    Powerful, about as powerful as Theo¡¯s answer.


    ¡°Looks like you¡¯ll be lucky,¡± Nolwenn said. ¡°At least they want to hear your story.¡±


    Three she-wolves came up the slope, all of them with the same reddish-brown fur and long, slender legs. Greg wondered if they had all been bitten by the same werewolf, or maybe were otherwise related. They didn¡¯t turn human, and he wasn¡¯t sure how to ask.


    ¡°Bridget, Irene, and Hilda,¡± Lenny supplied. ¡°Bridget¡¯s the oldest.¡±


    Bridget wasn¡¯t interested in waiting about, especially once she spotted Thoko, and Greg sputtered when she tried to make him explain. He barely managed to clamp his lips together, to at least gather his thoughts.


    To his surprise, Theo came to his aid. ¡°Pierre¡¯s pack is on the way, too,¡± the elder said. ¡°Should be here soon. I¡¯m sure you can wait that long. The human is fine,¡± he added.


    Bridget¡¯s pack kept their distance, anyway.


    Pierre¡¯s pack turned out to be ten werewolves strong, and Lenny only pointed out the leader, a smaller, very lithe, mostly black werewolf with a lot of silver around his muzzle. Everyone else in his pack seemed to be carrying something on their backs.


    ¡°He¡¯s been a werewolf for well over forty years,¡± Lenny added quietly. ¡°Must be going on eighty, as a human.¡±


    Greg thought he could feel what Theo had meant when he had said that someone had to be ¡°significantly older¡± than the Morgulon. Pierre was powerful, for certain. But Greg wouldn¡¯t have been able to tell that he was older than the Morgulon.


    Pierre alone turned human and got dressed in what looked like a very simple woman''s dress, or possibly a nightgown. It was too big for the old man he turned into and made him look even tinier than he already was.


    When he moved, the werewolves of all three packs moved with him unconsciously.


    Pierre was clearly Valoisian, not just by name. His hair was mostly all gray, but his skin still had the sun-bronzed tone many of them shared. His wolf-brown eyes fixed on Greg.


    ¡°Maela told us the Morgulon sent you.¡±


    ¡°She did,¡± Greg confirmed. Pierre didn¡¯t need to tell him to start explaining. The elder just stared, and Greg started talking.


    Bridget, Irene, and Hilda got up and left before he was even halfway through his report, and never turned back. Pierre, on the other hand, listened intently. When Greg finished, he walked over to the fire Greg had started up again, and sat down on the ground next to it, even though his joints creaked audibly as he did. His face was hard to read behind the grey beard, as he stared at the small flame. To Greg¡¯s surprise, he reached for the small supply of wood, to add another branch, and then pushed it in deeper, using the same stick Greg had used to poke at the fire.


    When the elder settled down, so did his pack, though they kept their distance from the fire. Theo¡¯s pack did the same as if there had been a signal that Greg had missed.


    Pierre tended the flames for what felt like a long time. He muttered softly to himself, and stared at Greg a few times, while completely ignoring Thoko.


    Finally, he turned to his pack without getting up: ¡°One of us, at the very least, needs to go with them despite the dangers, to see if this is all as he says. But I believe we might have more takers?¡±


    Greg could have cried with relief when three of the wolves surrounding Theo nodded.


    ¡°Have you sent someone to inform other packs?¡± Pierre asked, looking at Theo.


    ¡°Larissa left yesterday to inform the Red,¡± Theo said. ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll let everyone else that she comes across know.¡±


    Pierre stroked his grey beard. ¡°Let¡¯s hope Bridget will tell anyone to the south she meets,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°I¡¯ll send someone to the north.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for believing us,¡± Thoko said. ¡°We¡¯re very glad you¡¯re willing to help.¡±


    Pierre looked at her directly for the first time. Greg was fairly sure that he would have winced under the weight of his regard, but Thoko of course hardly noticed.


    ¡°I have a different perspective than most other packs,¡± he said. ¡°You see, I once was a priest of Mithras. I believe I have a much better idea of how the Empire will react, and how much danger every werewolf of Loegrion is in right now. Your young friend here forced our hands the moment he defended you and your fellow workers as you built the railway. If this rebellion of Loegrian nobles fails...¡± Pierre shook his head. ¡°If this rebellion fails, we can only pray for the Sun¡¯s mercy. And that rarely falls on Loegrion, and even more rarely on werewolves.¡±


    ¡°Will you come with us?¡± Thoko asked.


    Pierre shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m too old to make such a journey before winter hits. I will make sure that word spreads, that¡¯s the most help I can give you.¡±


    He turned to his pack again, and the three werewolves who had shown interest in going with them got up. ¡°These are Rust, Neville, and Ragna. They¡¯ll go with you, to help on your railway. How many werewolves are you supposed to bring back?¡±


    ¡°As many as we can find,¡± Greg said. ¡°There¡¯s no ¨C no quota we have to meet. It¡¯s more ¨C well, we need someone to replace the Morgulon, so they can continue building the railway, while she takes care of her young, and we need more werewolves to guard the coast. And if the company does manage to get started on the line to Silverford, they¡¯ll need at least a couple of older werewolves there, too.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Pierre stoked the fire thoughtfully. ¡°I admit,¡± he added, ¡°I have not seen what the Rot is like at the banks of the Savre in the past forty years, but I expect Ragna alone will be able to keep your workers safe, especially if there are freshly-bitten werewolves to aid her. As for Silverford: Any one werewolf proven stable should be enough to protect your workmen up in the mountains. By the time they reach the river valley, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll have found more werewolves willing to aide. So that leaves the coasts.¡±


    The elder looked at the three who had volunteered to go. ¡°Rust, this will no doubt be the point of first attack. Would you be willing to face the Valoise directly?¡±


    There was a long, long pause, and Greg chewed on his lips nervously. But then the black and russet-coloured wolf nodded.


    ¡°I want to go to Breachpoint,¡± Lenny piped up. ¡°To see my family.¡±


    ¡°Very good,¡± Pierre said. ¡°Neville, I¡¯ll expect you to return here, to report, by the winter solstice at the latest.¡±


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    To Greg¡¯s surprise, the wolf did not look happy about that.


    ¡°You may, of course, go back again, after,¡± Pierre added.


    Neville huffed but nodded, and Pierre smiled. ¡°Very good. That seems to conclude this strategy meeting. Let¡¯s have some food.¡±


    Most wolves in his pack transformed at those words and began to distribute the burdens they had carried. Most of it was game, but also firewood.


    Pierre looked over to Thoko. ¡°I take it you started this fire?¡± he asked. ¡°Would you help me make a second one?¡±


    ¡°Actually, Greg did,¡± Thoko said. ¡°But sure, I¡¯ll help.¡±


    ¡°You built this fire?¡± Pierre asked. He looked delighted at those news. ¡°How rare to find a fellow werewolf who¡¯s willing to handle flames. You didn¡¯t happen to follow the path of Mithras, too?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Greg said. ¡°I¡¯ve always preferred science over religion.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re a man of science turned into a creature of magic, just like I was a man of religion, turned into a demon,¡± Pierre grinned.


    ¡°He was also a werewolf hunter,¡± Thoko added.


    ¡°Trying to become one, more like,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°My family all used to hunt werewolves. But now they¡¯re all helping us,¡± he hurried to add.


    Pierre didn¡¯t look bothered, though. ¡°More than half the men on my pack used to be hunters,¡± he said. ¡°Rust and Neville both became werewolves that way.¡±


    Someone from Pierre¡¯s pack, who hadn¡¯t transformed, dug a shallow but wide hole for a second, bigger fire, using his paws like a dog. Another one, who had turned into a man, was bringing wood, then they both retreated a few yards away. Greg and Thoko helped stack the wood, but when Greg reached for his lighter, Pierre smiled.


    ¡°Allow me,¡± the elder said. He fixed his gaze on the wood and clapped his hands once. Fire blasted from the stack, and a whiff of brimstone bit Greg¡¯s nose. Pierre waved one hand through the air, quite close to the fire as if he wanted to fan it more air, and the smell of sulphur dissipated as fast as it had appeared.


    Pierre winked at Greg. ¡°What wouldn¡¯t the true priests of Mithras give, to be able to neutralize their own magical residues so easily.¡±


    Greg couldn¡¯t help but stare at Pierre. ¡°Are there ¨C are there more werewolves who can do magic?¡± he asked.


    Pierre smiled. ¡°It¡¯s not so much a question of can, Greg,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s a matter of want. We can all do magic, we perform magic every full moon, at the very least. I was not jesting when I called you a creature of magic. Any werewolf can absolutely do magic,¡± he repeated. ¡°To achieve a specific effect, that is another matter entirely.¡±


    ¡°Could you teach me?¡±


    ¡°In a few years,¡± Pierre said. ¡°If I live that long. There¡¯s not much power in you, yet,¡± he added. ¡°But your potential will grow.¡±


    ¡°So the Morgulon can do magic.¡±


    Pierre poked the fire with a stick and then held out a hand. One of his pack-mates handed him the first slices of meat to go onto the flame.


    ¡°I have never seen her do anything magical,¡± the elder said, while he carefully tended to their food. ¡°Neither has any other werewolf I¡¯ve ever met. Strangely enough, it¡¯s hunters that get bitten who tell of her powers.¡±


    ¡°Oh. But those are just stories,¡± Greg said, a little disappointed.


    ¡°Are they, though,¡± Pierre said.


    Greg frowned. ¡°You¡¯re saying she might really be able to become invisible or fly?¡±


    Pierre paused in placing the next cut of deer. ¡°I would not be surprised if it turned out that there¡¯s some grain of truth to the rumours, is all I¡¯m saying.¡± He considered, and added: ¡°Flying seems unlikely, though.¡±


    ¡°We have to ask her,¡± Thoko said.


    ¡°Oh, good luck,¡± Pierre said, smiling. ¡°She¡¯s not speaking about it. At least not to me.¡± He placed the next piece of meat. ¡°Maybe they really are just stories, and she prefers to keep people guessing, rather than admitting she has not learned to control her powers.¡±


    ¡°Does the Red have any magical abilities?¡± Thoko asked.


    Pierre nodded slowly. ¡°The only thing I know for sure is that he cannot just sense other werewolves, but also humans in his vicinity.¡±


    ¡°I bet the Morgulon can, too,¡± Thoko said. ¡°That would explain how she escaped hunters for so long.¡±


    Greg nodded slowly. It didn¡¯t seem like much, compared to Pierre¡¯s fire spell, but it would certainly be useful.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious what else we¡¯ll learn about werewolves,¡± Thoko said. ¡°I wonder how Audenne is getting on with his studies.¡±


    Of course, then they had to explain what Prof. Audenne was doing, and afterwards, just like Theo¡¯s pack, Pierre¡¯s pack wanted to know what other news they had from the heartlands. Greg felt a little hoarse when they had finally satisfied everyone¡¯s curiosity.


    Pierre¡¯s pack spent the night at Theo¡¯s campsite, and Pierre got invited to sleep inside one of the caves. Greg and Thoko tried to find out more about Ragna, Rust, and Neville. Rust was quite happy to talk about himself. He had been conscripted as a soldier when he¡¯d been younger than Greg was now, and then became a hunter for a few years before he had been bitten, eighteen years ago. He was getting close to sixty, only a few years younger than Lenny. But unlike Lenny, who looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over, Rust still had a warrior¡¯s physique ¨C not heavy-set, but tough as leather. His human hair was grey and dwindling, but his beard still had the russet streaks of his wolf pelt.


    Ragna was somewhere in her forties, Greg guessed, and had been a werewolf the longest, though only by a couple of years. Rust claimed that her story was the most interesting, and promptly began to tell it.


    Ragna glared at him, wild and lean in her human form, and there was a surety to her movements, an energy that made her beautiful despite the scars she bore on all her limbs.


    ¡°She¡¯s from Fylke, an independent country much further to the north. When she was barely more than a girl, the trading vessel she served on as a guard was seized by pirates,¡± Rust said.


    ¡°And then the pirate ship was in turn captured by a Valoisian warship, and I was sold with the other spoils in Valoir,¡± Ragna took over, still glaring at Rust, though they seemed quite fond of each other. ¡°But the Gods hadn¡¯t abandoned me completely, because just months later, the noble who bought me fell from grace with the crown and was exiled to Loegrion, with its free cities. I ran as soon as we got off the boat, kept myself hidden in a city for a year and a day, as the law demands it until I could call myself a free woman again.¡±


    She rubbed the bite marks on her lower arms. ¡°The first time I left the city, I was attacked and bitten by a werewolf. I thought the Gods had abandoned me entirely then, but once I made it out of the heartlands, I realized that instead, they had given me strength beyond my wildest dreams. And now the Gods arranged this meeting, and I¡¯ll finally have my revenge on Valoir.¡±


    Neville smiled wryly when Ragna fell silent, and Greg looked at him. ¡°No great story here,¡± he said. ¡°I just wanted to be a werewolf hunter for the riches it brought, and I want to go back now for a warm bed and hot food.¡± He grimaced. ¡°I¡¯ve only been a werewolf for a little over nine years, so I guess it makes sense that I¡¯ll be the messenger boy. Not looking forward to running back and forth, though.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps Pierre would accept an even younger messenger?¡± Thoko suggested. ¡°Someone who just proved themselves sane, I mean?¡±


    ¡°Nine years old makes you an elder by their standards,¡± Lenny piped in.


    Neville stared at the old man, then grinned. ¡°Oh, good joke,¡± he said.


    ¡°No, really,¡± Lenny said, grinning widely. ¡°Cause until this summer solstice all werewolves got killed straight away, they only got a handful of us who can fight a proper Rot-monster on their own.¡±


    Thoko and Greg nodded a little awkwardly when Rust, Ragna, and Neville stared at them.


    ¡°If Neville¡¯s an elder,¡± Rust asked finally, ¡°what am I?¡±


    ¡°Ancient,¡± Neville sniggered.


    ¡°Well,¡± Thoko said, and ran a hand through her braids. ¡°You¡¯ll be the third oldest werewolf within the heartlands. Ragna will be second-oldest, right after the Morgulon.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± Rust muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s hope Larissa finds the Red and that he¡¯s willing to fight. Otherwise, I don¡¯t see you guys winning against the Valoise.¡±


    ¡°They do have the Morgulon on their side,¡± Neville said. ¡°Might not be too bad.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never seen a Valoisian suppression force,¡± Rust grumbled. ¡°I have. They¡¯ll sacrifice men by the score, if necessary. I don¡¯t fancy going up against one human sacrifice all on my own, let alone against several. And you¡¯d never make it.¡±


    Greg shuddered. He had wondered since they had found Theo¡¯s pack whether or not they should head back right away, or try to find more packs, but if Rust spoke the truth, they had to race home as fast as possible. If Rust was certain that Neville couldn¡¯t defeat such a human sacrifice, then neither could Bernadette, who was supposed to fight that first suppression force they expected soonish.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be on your own,¡± Ragna said after a moment. ¡°It¡¯ll be the four of us. This company will just have to slow down that railway of theirs. And if they don¡¯t want to do that, we return here straight away.¡±


    Rust looked at Lenny, clearly still worried, but nodded. ¡°Yeah, okay, with the four of us, and the Morgulon there, even if she doesn¡¯t fight. That might be a winnable battle. If one of their hunters can shoot some of the Valoisian mage priests early on, I mean. Who¡¯s in command of the Leogrian troops?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if the Dukes George Louis and Desmarais picked a general yet,¡± Greg said. ¡°Maybe George Louis wants to do it himself.¡±


    ¡°As longs as it¡¯s not Desmarais,¡± Rust grumbled. ¡°Fought under him down south, watched him literally wet his pants when the battle started.¡±


    Rust paused, and added: ¡°Mind you, that was before Neville here was even born, he might¡¯ve grown some balls since.¡±


    ¡°Ancient,¡± Neville whispered again.


    ¡°In any case, we leave tomorrow and go straight for the heartlands?¡± Rust wanted to know. ¡°Will you come with us, or are you looking for others?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll come back with you,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Do you know any packs who live on the Crucible Ridge?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°Perhaps we can try to stop by with them?¡±


    Rust combed his fingers through his beard. ¡°Maybe,¡± he said slowly. ¡°If you guys really consider Neville an elder, I might know others you want to talk to.¡±


    ¡°Anyone who has seen a hundred full moons,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Though, honestly, we¡¯re not going to turn down anyone who¡¯s proven stable.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t do any big detours, though,¡± Greg added.


    ¡°Figured,¡± Rust nodded. He frowned at Greg. ¡°You¡¯re not going to travel as a human, right?¡±


    ¡°No. And Thoko¡¯ll ride on my back.¡±


    ¡°We should make good time then,¡± Rust said. ¡°We¡¯ll leave early tomorrow?¡±


    He looked at Ragna, who nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s rest now,¡± she said.


    When the other four werewolves transformed, Greg decided to follow their example. Thoko packed his clothes and their other stuff before she settled down on the ground right next to him. In the morning, she just needed to throw the pack onto his back and climb up herself, and then they were off.

 Chapter 60

    David was still undecided on whether or not this was a good idea when he reached the fencing school of Eoforwic. Since Greg had been bitten, he had rarely taken the time to practise with any type of sword. On the other hand, he had been to Eoforwic for a month now, hoping to do what Morgulon had asked him to and keep an eye on the duke, but hadn¡¯t spoken to him once. Mostly because George Louis had been up at Mannin until a couple of days ago and on his return, he had brought his son. This was a perfect opportunity to accidentally run into them.


    George Louis would absolutely get a kick out of finally beating him in a fair fight.


    Not that David intended to let him win, if he could help it. There was such a thing as pride, after all.


    He left his coat with a servant and picked a light foil, blunted and wrapped for safety, from the rack of practise weapons, before he walked into the main hall. The heart of the school smelled of sweat and iron and was echoing with the clashing of steel, the cries of the stricken, and the shouts of an umpire. To one side of the room, a class of youths was practising under the watchful eye of an instructor, the rest of the floor was mostly filled with gentlemen who were either going through their routine alone or in twos. In the middle of the hall, a duel was in full swing. Only for sport, as far as David could tell, not for honour and death. Most importantly to David, the gossip he had picked up turned out to be correct: It didn¡¯t take him long to spot where Duke George Louis was teaching his young son, but David didn¡¯t make any attempt to place himself close to them. Instead, he picked the corner furthest away from them and began on his own routine.


    He was rusty, indeed, but not as rusty as he had feared. He should be still able to take on George Louis ¨C unless, of course, the other man had improved a lot since they had last sparred. Not with this foil, though. It was a decent weapon for warm-up, but it didn¡¯t sit right in his hand.


    He walked over to where more practise swords were lined up, deliberately crossing George Louis¡¯s line of sight, but pretending to be too focused on his foil¡¯s balance to notice anyone around himself.


    George Louis froze when he spotted him, giving his son the opportunity to score against him. David had a hard time keeping a straight face. Maybe Morgulon was right. Maybe he could use the duke¡¯s current infatuation to influence a few of his decisions.


    Like a common concubine. Except that he was unlikely to even get sex out of this, because George Louis was sure to lose interest, once he had won the prize he was after.


    David sighed inwardly and reached for an old-fashioned sword foil, both longer, broader, and a lot heavier, weighted it in his hands and put it back. Too unwieldy. He passed over the new Valoisian epee, which was made for sport or at the most, duelling until first blood was drawn rather than to the death. Finally, he found a blunted Colichemarde. Now, there was a proper weapon. Still not his first choice ¨C for one, it was a little short for David¡¯s taste ¨C but if it hadn¡¯t been blunted, David was positive that he could have used it to gore a wild boar.


    ¡°You¡¯re just as bloodthirsty as I remember,¡± George Louis said behind him and reached for the epee David had passed over, offering the hilt to him. ¡°Care to help me give a demonstration to George?¡±


    ¡°Are you teaching him to defend himself or how to impress girls?¡± David asked and eyed the offered ¡°sword¡± with disdain.


    ¡°He¡¯s too young to impress girls, which definitely makes him too young to be handed a sword made for killing,¡± George Louis gave back calmly. ¡°He¡¯s not going to go out at fourteen to kill werewolves.¡±


    David huffed, but accepted the duelling sword, tested its balance. ¡°Fine,¡± he said after a moment and turned around to properly face George Louis. His son was still waiting where he had practised with his father, a boy of about eight years. His black hair showed that his mother had been from Valoir, but his skin was nearly as light as his father¡¯s. The contrast made him look wan and his stick-thin wrists didn¡¯t help. He looked like one good hit with the foil he was holding would snap his arm.


    His expression, though, was one of eager excitement, as he watched David and George Louis approach.


    ¡°My son,¡± the duke said. ¡°Prince George. George, I¡¯ve already told you about the Honourable David Feleke.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the werewolf hunter,¡± George promptly said.


    David nodded.


    ¡°Are there any in Eoforwic right now?¡± George went on, eyes wide. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re here?¡±


    ¡°There are a few werewolves here in the city, yes,¡± David said. George Louis had mentioned it, but he still hadn¡¯t expected the prince to be quite so eager. ¡°Unfortunately, they aren¡¯t safe yet to be around.¡±


    The last group of criminals who had volunteered for a bite were being kept in the basement of the Lackland Railway Company¡¯s headquarters, locked up in sturdy cells. Officially, that was why David was in the city, though of course there was nothing he could do that a bunch of guards couldn¡¯t do, too. They just had to wait and see how the newest group turned out.


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    ¡°But can¡¯t I go see them with you? That would be safe, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s for your father to decide,¡± David said.


    George Louis smiled wryly. ¡°We¡¯ll go visit the railway soon, as I promised you,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be far more interesting to see them doing their job, rather than watching them mope around a prison cell. That¡¯s not why I asked David over, anyway.¡±


    He flourished his own epee and Prince George stepped out of the way promptly.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t warn me not to embarrass you in front of the kid,¡± David muttered and took a couple of swings with the sword George Louis had handed him, to get a feel for the weapon.


    ¡°I have no doubt that you¡¯ll try, no matter what I say.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± David admitted and took his position.


    George Louis did the same and looked at his son. ¡°Do you remember the Valoisian commands?¡±


    ¡°En garde,¡± George said promptly. David grinned, but took the proper stance.


    At the next command, the boy stumbled over the Valoisian pronunciation, but when David and his father both answered with the salute, he went on: ¡°Allez!¡±


    David grinned even wider when George Louis lunged at him right away, obviously hoping to catch him off guard. He parried the thrust easily.


    ¡°You should teach George the Loegrian commands,¡± he said, as their blades beat against each other.


    ¡°I will,¡± the duke replied, and lunged again. David managed to bind his sword a second time, stepping aside and out of the way easily, just to advance himself. George Louis barely managed to avoid his attack.


    So the duke had improved ¨C or David was slower than he used to be ¨C but not enough to completely bridge the gap.


    ¡°Anything specific you want me to demonstrate for your son?¡± David asked, parrying a flurry of attacks.


    ¡°We were working on footwork,¡± George Louis replied. He was sweating already.


    ¡°Very well,¡± David said, and began to exaggerate the way he switched from one stance to the next, adding an unnecessary flourish to each step.


    ¡°I hate you sometimes,¡± the duke muttered when he barely managed to deflect David¡¯s next thrust.


    ¡°Are we even keeping score?¡± David asked and followed up with a flick of the dull blade that touched George Louis¡¯s upper arm.


    When George Louis didn¡¯t answer, David added: ¡°I had forgotten how much fun this is.¡±


    When they connected the next time, George Louis managed to surprise him with a false attack, which led to a series of wild back and forth, that had David¡¯s breath quicken, too. For a moment, he dropped the exaggeration, but he returned to it once he had brought some distance between himself and George Louis. He toyed with the duke a little longer, before finishing their duel with a lunge and a feint that ended with his weapon¡¯s blunted point at George Louis¡¯s throat.


    The duke glared at him but recovered quickly. ¡°If nothing else,¡± he said, turning to his son, ¡°this should show you the dangers of challenging a fencer you know to be out of your league.¡±


    ¡°Will he teach me, too?¡± the boy asked, eyes wide.


    ¡°In a few years, maybe,¡± David said. ¡°Once you¡¯ve mastered the basics.¡±


    He had never taught anyone outside of his own family, but this could be another avenue to curry favour with the duke. Perhaps.


    ¡°Another bout?¡± David asked.


    When George Louis shook his head, a stranger smartly stepped forward and bowed with a flourish.


    ¡°Gerard Helm, Sir. I couldn¡¯t help but notice that you are a follower of the Loegrian school of fencing,¡± he said, and offered David the sword he had considered before George Louis had approached. ¡°If you fancy a friendly match, I would be happy to pit my skills against yours.¡±


    David accepted the proffered hilt with a bow of his own. Helm went ahead to the middle of the room where the umpire was still standing. A circle had been marked with chalk on the ground, and a few people were already forming an audience around it.


    ¡°Bit of a crowd,¡± David noted.


    ¡°You did just beat Duke George Louis in a quite ¨C striking ¨C fashion, Sir,¡± Helm pointed out. ¡°May I ask where you are from?¡±


    ¡°Deva,¡± David said. ¡°You may have heard of my father, Baron Abraham Feleke.¡±


    ¡°The werewolf hunter? That would make you one of the famous Feleke Four?¡± When David nodded, Helm added: ¡°I would have thought a hunter would prefer the crossbow.¡±


    David just smiled, and they took positions on opposite sides of the ring. Helm was a better duellist than George Louis, and David actually lost their first bout. He won the following two, though, so the umpire declared him the winner of the match.


    Helm took it with sport. ¡°Will you be around in the future?¡± he asked. ¡°There are few swordsmen of this level coming here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll likely see me around,¡± David confirmed.


    He returned to the corner where he had first started his training, and finally began his old routine. He wasn¡¯t surprised when George Louis and his son stayed until he finished, even though it took him another hour. George Louis failed miserably at trying to act casual when he bumped into David as he returned his practise weapon.


    ¡°Where are you staying?¡± the duke asked.


    David was fairly certain that George Louis knew exactly where he was staying while in Eoforwic, but he replied: ¡°Father acquired an estate last year, just outside the village of Brines.¡±


    Brines lay south of Eoforwic, and had just last month gotten its own railway station. David couldn¡¯t help but wonder if his father had somehow known about this, from Eyal perhaps. With the station close by, the estate was suddenly worth twice what Bram had paid for it last autumn, when they had been looking for a safe place for Greg to wait out full moon. And that probably even included the money he had invested in both the building and land since then.


    George Louis wanted him to stay in Eoforwic for dinner, unsurprisingly.


    ¡°Another time,¡± David said.


    George Louis looked like he was about to argue, then glanced at his son and nodded. ¡°Another time. I¡¯ll hold you to that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will,¡± David said dryly.


    ¡°Oh, and swing by the Company tomorrow, will you?¡±


    David nodded. That was an easy promise to make, as he visited the company headquarters every day, to check on the new werewolves. He waited until George Louis and his son were out of sight, before he allowed himself to grin.


    Getting the duke¡¯s attention certainly hadn¡¯t been hard.

 Chapter 61

    David took the railway back to Brines. It took him longer to walk the distance from the station to the estate than it had taken the train to travel from Eoforwic to Brines.


    There was only the minimum of staff at the house: the steward who organized the repairs, and the housekeeper who was tasked with keeping the place clean. Now that David was actually living there, Miss Rose was also preparing dinner for him.


    David didn¡¯t feel like putting Miss Rose through the hustle of heating water for a bath for him, so he scrubbed off the sweat from his sword practise with a washcloth instead, using the water in the washbasin in his room. He¡¯d just go and visit a bathhouse in Eoforwic tomorrow. If he went early in the morning, before he went to the Lackland Company, the risk of running into George Louis should be minimal.


    David took the first train to Eoforwic and didn¡¯t stay long at the bathhouse. Once the place started to fill up, he left to get himself some coffee and a fry up. It was still fairly early in the morning when he crossed the channel to reach the New City.


    A clerk stopped him as soon as David entered the basement of the Lackland Company headquarters, waving an envelope.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± David asked, a little surprised. Who would send a message for him to the company?


    ¡°It¡¯s from the scientists in Deva, the ones that are studying how many werewolves turn mad,¡± the clerk explained. ¡°Only, they do not like to call it that. They claim the term is imprecise.¡±


    When David just looked at him, the clerk added: ¡°All hunters who work with the company are supposed to get a copy, so they may implement the findings into their work.¡±


    David stared at the envelope with disdain. He wasn¡¯t exactly thrilled by the thought that a bunch of bookworms and paper pushers wanted to tell him how to do his job.


    ¡°You¡¯ve read it?¡± David asked the clerk. ¡°Anything interesting?¡±


    ¡°Well, I would say so,¡± the clerk said. ¡°This is the latest ¨C they¡¯re calling it a journal. It has all the newest data on how many werewolves go mad, and when they do it, too. I think it might be very interesting to our newest werewolves.¡±


    David finally opened the envelope, leaning against the clerk¡¯s table. He only skimmed over the wordy and unnecessarily complicated introduction of the main article, which needed a whole page to say that this was a treatise on werewolves, and how important the author thought it was. It was followed by several pages which just showed columns of numbers. Finally, there was a lengthy discussion of what the numbers might mean. One paragraph caught David¡¯s attention:


    ¡°Our research shows that werewolves do not change within just a few days after being bitten. In fact, we strongly believe that the process is lengthy ¨C possibly unending.¡±


    David nodded to himself. This at least didn¡¯t seem entirely wrong. He had noticed how Greg had started to flinch away from silver only recently. He skipped over a bunch of examples, and continued at:


    ¡°What exactly is going on in a werewolf¡¯s head is hard to fathom. The most likely theory as of now seems to be the theory of two souls and one mind. According to this theory, any werewolf is governed by only one human mind but driven by the needs of not one, but two souls. Quite similar to any marriage, the two souls can peacefully coexist, cooperate, or either soul might take dominance. The most common situation appears to be a dominance of the wolf soul, followed by cooperation, which is marked by aspects of both human and wolfish behaviour. Third most common is coexistence, in which case a strong change of personality can be observed throughout the month. Only a minority of werewolves appear to be living their life governed mostly by their human soul.


    This theory allows for explanation of the many varied types of personalities witnessed amongst werewolves, and it also explains why many werewolves, who are extremely wolfish in their behaviour, are not actually dangerous: as long as the human mind is in control, or at least present, violence does not occur. Only when there is only the wolf-soul left, does the werewolf become violent.¡±


    David frowned at the paper. He wasn¡¯t sure if ¡°mind¡± was a good word here. He skipped over the next few paragraphs, which were outlining increasingly unlikely scenarios of what might be happening within a werewolf¡¯s head, and stopped when he found another interesting part:


    ¡°Our observations indicate that a propensity for violence, commonly referred to as ¡°madness¡±, is most likely to emerge at one of these three points:


    21% of all werewolves who underwent the shift towards violence did so during the days following the first full moon after they were bitten.


    36% of the group turned violent within three days after the second full moon.


    Most interestingly, another 35% became dangerous right after the new moon following their second full moon.


    Only 8% of all werewolves were affected by the murderous rage even later. In fact, with every additional week, the likelihood of a werewolf turning violent appears to decrease.¡±


    That was indeed interesting, David had to admit. All the werewolves currently sitting in the cells down the hallway were in fact past that specific new moon mentioned. If this article was truly correct, then perhaps this group would be luckier than the group sent to First Camp that had given Greg so much grief. So far, of the fifteen men and women, only six had become violent.


    The article ended on the warning that despite the statistics, anyone dealing with werewolves should remain cautious until the fifth full moon had passed.


    David smiled grimly and stuffed the stack of pages back into the envelope. He intended to heed that advice, since he had written the same thing, nearly verbatim, in his pamphlet.


    As hard as it was to follow that advice sometimes.


    He had thought he could take it when he had first come to Eoforwic, to personally judge the new werewolves going to the railway. That he could live with killing not strangers, but werewolves he knew, as long as he was certain that they were, indeed, mad. But checking on them every morning for the past month might have been a mistake.


    He still thought he would have been fine if at least they had all been adults. But there was the kid ¨C fifteen years old, but still, a kid in David¡¯s eyes. Sentenced to death for ¡°stealing crops¡± from his lord¡¯s fields, and saying unfavourable things about the stingy bastard who wouldn¡¯t honour his people¡¯s right to glean his fields.


    David still hadn¡¯t decided how to breach the subject to George Louis. They could have just overturned the sentence, either him or Duke Desmarais. But instead, the two dukes had decided that the kid would make an excellent candidate to become a werewolf.


    Or possibly, this Mr. Bell, who was in charge of picking candidates, had made that decision.


    Maybe, David wondered, he should pay that man a visit. Gleaning was not the same as stealing, surely a professor of law should know that? Gleaning was an ancient prerogative of children, widows, war invalids, and the homeless, probably their only right.


    Alvin had been a child, and his mother was a widow.


    The werewolf in the first cell flinched back when David opened the metal gate that led into the prison part of the basement, retreating as deeply into the shadows as the small room would allow. There was no light inside any of the cells since the torches seemed to distress the werewolves. Only the hallway was lined with lamps.


    David hung his crossbow, his quiver, and his purse to a nail next to the small guard station, and glanced at the two men inside. They quickly looked away, and he hadn¡¯t even needed to glare. The first time he had come down here, two of his silver bolts had vanished from his quiver. David had caught the culprits fast ¨C after all, there hadn¡¯t been many suspects.


    He hadn¡¯t turned in the two guards who had tried it, which had earned him two grudging allies.


    ¡°Any new developments?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Two more of ¡®em won¡¯t turn human no more, Sir,¡± one of the guards said. ¡°Number eight and number fifteen.¡±


    David nodded. ¡°Number eight,¡± was really called Millie, a former prostitute who wouldn¡¯t say what she had gotten the death sentence for. ¡°Number fifteen¡± was Spencer, a sourly bloke who had gotten caught stealing horses.


    David nodded. He didn¡¯t ask the guards if either of the two werewolves were showing violent tendencies ¨C all the guards were convinced that every single one of the people locked up down here were just biding their time to kill them. Considering the way many guards treated their charges, David wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if that was true, but it still wasn¡¯t a sign of madness.


    Instead, David turned away and walked over to ¡°number one.¡± Now that David wasn¡¯t carrying silver any longer, the werewolf didn¡¯t flinch away but didn¡¯t come into the light of the torches, either.


    ¡°Morning, Clyde,¡± David greeted. There was no reaction, even when David stepped up all the way to the bars of the cell. Slowly, he extended one hand through the bars, ready to pull away at the first sign of movement. But the werewolf inside just watched him. After a minute or so David pulled his hand back.


    The next cage was empty. David had been forced to shoot the former inmate right after the last full moon, just like the werewolf formerly called ¡°number 3¡± by the guards.


    Bea, had her real name been. She, like ¡°number 2¡±, had started attacking anything that moved in the hallway, despite the fact that there had been no way for her to leave her cell.


    Cell number four was still occupied. A man was nervously walking up and down. When the flames in the hallway outside guttered in a slight breeze, he jumped. His name was Chandler, sentenced for forgery, and when David stepped up to his cell, he, too, retreated into the back. He didn¡¯t stay there long, though. When David offered him a copy of yesterday¡¯s newspaper, he came forward so quickly he nearly crashed into the bars.


    ¡°Thank,¡± he muttered, ¡°thank, thank you thank,¡± taking the paper, and retreating again, already unfolding the paper.


    David moved forward in this manner, handing out two more newspapers until he reached the second to last cell, the only cell whose occupant was both willing and able to talk to him.


    ¡°Morning, Alvin,¡± David said. ¡°Let me check on your neighbour, and then I¡¯ll be with you.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Spencer growled at him when David stepped in front of his cell, and David sighed inwardly. He pulled out his personal notebook, and made a note of the occurrence. When he stepped even closer to the iron, the growl changed in pitch, until it was more of a whine.


    ¡°I think he¡¯s a gonner,¡± Alvin said quietly when David made another note.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so,¡± David said. ¡°We¡¯ll see in the next few days.¡±


    There was no rush. As long as Spencer didn¡¯t actually try to attack anyone ¨C or anything ¨C they could give him the benefit of the doubt.


    ¡°How are you, Alvin?¡±


    The kid twitched nervously. ¡°Still scared,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°Is Millie ¨C I heard the guards say she wasn¡¯t turning human no more, just like Spencer.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± David said, louder than strictly necessary. ¡°Some of the best werewolves we have only turn human for new moon. It¡¯s not a sign of madness.¡±


    He had told Alvin this, or something similar, every time one of his companions changed in some manner. He was probably going to tell him another dozen times before every werewolf in here had survived their fifth full moon.


    He had no doubt that, even though they didn¡¯t dare to actually talk to him, most of the werewolves were listening.


    ¡°Anything interesting happen outside?¡± Alvin asked after a few seconds.


    David pulled out the envelope with the journal. He had planned to tell Alvin about the progress on the line to Breachpoint. They had put down almost all the rails down, and the bridge across the Savre, which the company had started to build without a single werewolf on-site, was nearing completion. The alchemy to treat the ground on the far side of the Savre had probably cost more than the whole line to Mannin. David was sure that it would have been impossible, had the banks on this side of the river not already been fortified against the Rot, where they formed the harbour of Eoforwic.


    Instead, David said: ¡°This is from the scientists who study werewolves at Deva. They¡¯ve released some numbers, finally, about the odds of staying a sane werewolf.¡±


    ¡°They told us the odds are fifty-fifty,¡± said Alvin. ¡°Was that a lie?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David said. ¡°However, this gives more detail. According to the man who wrote this, your odds of turning mad now, after you¡¯ve been a werewolf this long, are down to one in ten.¡±


    Alvin was quiet for some time. ¡°That means ¨C nine in ten odds that we¡¯ll all be fine?¡± he finally asked.


    David nodded. ¡°You might change in other, smaller ways,¡± he added. ¡°But the odds of anyone getting executed are going down every day.¡±


    ¡°Poor Spencer,¡± Alvin muttered. But then he perked up again. ¡°One in ten, will you write that to mother for me?¡±


    David nodded. Alvin was illiterate. His mother was, too, but Alvin still asked David to write to her at least once a week. He claimed she knew someone who would read the letters to her. Writing and posting letters to family and loved ones of the werewolves here had been David¡¯s main occupation in Eoforwic until George Louis had returned from Mannin a few days ago.


    The first round of letters had been the worst, as the convicted men and women had tried to say goodbye to their loved ones, just in case.


    Alvin dictated a short letter for David to write, and when David was about to leave the prison, Chandler waved him down, too.


    ¡°Tell? My family?¡± he asked. He struggled with the words, but then just pointed at his own chest. ¡°Odds?¡± he added.


    So he had listened. David smiled and nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll let your family know you¡¯re still fine. And of the odds.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t entirely sure if it was fair to give Chandler¡¯s and Alvin¡¯s relatives that hope until it was certain that the two werewolves would be safe. Maybe he shouldn¡¯t even have told Alvin. But he had wanted to give the kid some reassurance.


    He approached the table of the clerk who had given him the scientific journal. Before he could even say anything, the man offered David a few envelopes, and asked: ¡°How many do you need today, Sir?¡±


    ¡°Just two,¡± David said. ¡°And two sheets of paper.¡±


    He transcribed the letter Alvin had dictated him from his notebook first and then thought about what he would write to Chandler¡¯s family.


    He was interrupted by a messenger from the upper levels of the Company Headquarters. George Louis wanted to know what he was doing.


    ¡°My job,¡± David told the messenger boy. ¡°I¡¯ll be up in a few minutes.¡±


    The boy returned, just as David finished writing the address onto the second letter, to inform him that George Louis wanted to see him as soon as he was done.


    So David left both letters with the company clerk, who promised to have them posted, and walked upstairs to the duke¡¯s office.


    ¡°I was informed that you entered the building at nine,¡± George Louis greeted him, as soon as he walked in. ¡°It¡¯s nearly eleven now. What could you possibly be doing with those werewolves, that would take two hours?¡±


    ¡°Are you spying on me now?¡± David asked. ¡°It takes a little more than just a glance to be sure about their minds. So I check on each and every one of them, talk to them if they are willing and able to speak with me. I agreed to send messages to the families of two of them. Some of them like to read the newspaper, so I bring them some.¡±


    ¡°Newspapers. You¡¯re telling me some of them can read?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they be able to read?¡± David replied. ¡°One of them was a forger before he was sentenced to death.¡±


    ¡°I was given to understand that half of them can barely speak.¡±


    ¡°Well, true,¡± David admitted. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean they suddenly become illiterate, too. Greg wrote us letters.¡±


    ¡°Clearly, your brother was less affected than other werewolves,¡± George Louis said.


    David nodded. ¡°In some ways, that¡¯s true, George. But what happens to them is complicated. The curse affects each of them differently. And as a general rule, they understand much, much more than they say.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I think I¡¯m beginning to see that,¡± George Louis said slowly. ¡°Anyway. Did you receive any news from your fianc¨¦e? Or your brother?¡±


    ¡°Nothing of note,¡± David said. ¡°Lane is keeping me appraised of what¡¯s going on with Morgulon, but there have been no new developments. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re receiving all the reports by the doctor, too.¡±


    George Louis frowned. ¡°I did tell the man to keep me informed, but the report may have been sent to Mannin.¡±


    ¡°Well, the doctor has looked at Morgulon and agrees that there are going to be multiple cubs. He thinks five, but says he can¡¯t be entirely sure. He also says she¡¯s as healthy as is to be expected. Not transforming on new moon is taking a huge toll on her, for all that it enables Mr. Levi¡¯s crew to get a bit more work done. It¡¯s not sustainable, if that¡¯s what you were thinking.¡±


    ¡°But she will be able to ¨C to continue to not transform?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°No one knows but her. She did walk through a snowstorm in the mountains with a silver bolt stuck in her flesh, so I reckon she¡¯ll endure.¡±


    ¡°Not what I was hoping to hear, I admit,¡± George Louis said after a moment.


    ¡°What were you hoping to hear?¡±


    ¡°Oh, preferably, that she is gaining strength from this. Not that she¡¯s barely holding on.¡± George Louis pressed his lips together. ¡°Any chance she¡¯ll be able to fight?¡±


    ¡°Fight?¡± David echoed. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    George Louis leaned back in his chair, and finally waved at David to sit down, too. ¡°The Valoisian fleet will depart for Loegrion within a fortnight.¡±


    ¡°Well, shit,¡± David said.


    ¡°Yes, that sums it up quite neatly.¡± George Louis sighed. ¡°We need the Morgulon. Or your brother needs to bring back someone as old as her within a month. Or even better ¨C several someones.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t count on Greg. He may not make it in time. If they leave in two weeks, they¡¯ll be standing at Deggan in just over a month. You¡¯ll have to have work at the railway stopped,¡± David said calmly. ¡°Bernadette and her pack, together with Calder and every other werewolf you can muster needs to go to the coast, as fast as possible. I¡¯ll write to Lane to get Morgulon moving this direction, too.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said she cannot fight.¡±


    ¡°She still needs to be there,¡± David said. ¡°Without her influence, even Calder and Bernadette stand no chance at bringing down one of the monsters we saw at Deva. Get in contact with Desmarais, have him send Fenn, too. And Marianne. I¡¯ll let mother know that we¡¯ll need Lee.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°Tell Desmarais that we¡¯ll even need Henry and Marc. And whoever that girl was who was with you in Deva.¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected you to be the one to gamble them all. Especially the children.¡°


    ¡°George, if we lose this first battle, they¡¯re all dead, anyway. Greg may not even have found anyone.¡±


    George rubbed his beard. ¡°I was going to bring them all to the coast, anyway,¡± he said. ¡°But I¡¯m glad you agree. What about the really new ones?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to risk it,¡± David said. ¡°If some of them escape, well, we¡¯ll worry about that if we survive.¡±


    ¡°You ¨C look shaken,¡± George Louis said.


    ¡°What did you expect?¡± David said. ¡°There¡¯s a war coming, and we aren¡¯t even close to ready. It took both the Morgulon and Fenn to destroy that thing at Deva, and they¡¯re the oldest, the strongest. Depending on how many men the Roi Solei is willing to sacrifice, there might be a hundred just like that giant at our coasts, soon.¡±


    ¡°A hundred seems unlikely,¡± George Louis said. ¡°But yes. This is going to be tight. Do you think it would be possible to form a cavalry unit riding on werewolves?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why I really wanted to speak to you,¡± the duke said. ¡°If we gave soldiers silver helmets, and silver blades, they could even help fight the Rot.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll take some very exceptional werewolves to carry a human decked out in so much silver,¡± David pointed out. ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll find any who would. Even Greg would have issues with that. He might do it if it was Nathan or I. But a stranger? Doubtful. Might be worth exploring that for once we¡¯re fighting the Grande Arm¨¦e, though. But arm the soldiers with steel. It won¡¯t be as simple as giving a horse to a rider, but it might work.¡±


    George Louis smiled, a smile sharp as a knife. ¡°Will you command this new unit?¡±


    David paused. ¡°I¡¯m not a military man,¡± he pointed out. ¡°I¡¯ve never been a soldier.¡±


    ¡°No, but you are the best hunter in all of Loegrion, and there¡¯s no one who knows more about werewolves, either.¡±


    ¡°Both of those titles might go to Lane, too.¡±


    ¡°Who is a woman, and has no military training. I¡¯ve never seen her fight with a sword, either. Or a gun, for that matter.¡±


    David bowed his head ever so slightly. He had no idea whether or not Lane knew how to shoot a gun. He expected she did, but he wasn¡¯t sure. And it was true ¨C as heir to the family, David had learned a thing or two about military strategy. Fifteen years ago.


    ¡°Who is going to command the Loegrian defenders?¡± David asked.


    ¡°The final decision hasn¡¯t been made yet,¡± George Louis said. ¡°I hope Lord Clermont will consider taking the mantle, but he may still side with the Roi Solei.¡±


    David frowned. ¡°How are you going to deal with those Valoisian nobles loyal to the Roi Solei here on Loegrion?¡±


    George Louis smiled wryly. ¡°You aren¡¯t the only one who has been busy in the past few months. Those openly siding with the Roi Solei have been put under house arrest at Deva Castle. Duke Desmarais is keeping an eye on them for me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of trust you are putting in him,¡± David noted.


    ¡°I have little choice,¡± George Louis admitted freely. ¡°And he has given me no reason to doubt his loyalty to our cause so far. Or his loyalty to me. No, the issue is not Desmarais. There are other nobles, whose words I trust a lot less when they assure me of their loyalty to this rebellion.¡± George Louis shrugged. ¡°Duke Desmarais, and others whose loyalty is beyond doubt, have raised several thousand soldiers already. Their regiments are camped around Deva and Deggan, both because it¡¯s easiest to provide them with food there, and also to protect the cities, should some southern lord decide to use the arrival of the Valoisian fleet for a surprise attack.¡±


    ¡°What about the Church?¡± David asked. ¡°Bringing all werewolves to the coast will expose the rest of the heartlands. Or are you that certain that you have rounded up all the fanatics?¡±


    ¡°In all honesty? No,¡± George Louis said. ¡°However, we do have some mages in our own lines, and several alchemists, too. I have granted them access to all the bone ash and guano we have, to make incendiaries that can be fired at the Rot with cannons. Even if the worst happens, Desmarais has the resources necessary to hold onto the heartlands until we have dealt with the Valoisian fleet. Especially when you consider that anyone raising the Rot will likely be acting alone, or with little support at worst.¡±


    George Louis paused. ¡°Still, we will have to be quick. Once we have beaten back the fleet, we will have until spring to fully take control of the heartlands. And then the real battle will begin.¡±


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that we will be fighting not one, but three campaigns.¡±


    ¡°I would say we are going to fight one war which will likely have three stages,¡± George Louis said.


    ¡°And if we win,¡± David said. ¡°If we beat back the Valoise three times. What happens then?¡±


    ¡°Then I will resurrect the crown of Loegrion.¡±


    David nodded slowly. ¡°And what kind of future are you imagining?¡±


    George Louis eyed him quizzically. ¡°I envision a free Loegrion,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°Free of the Valoise, and free of the Rot. Possibly a Loegrion where everyone is free to love who they want. Free to choose their own gods, for sure. But let¡¯s change the country one step at a time.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± David said. ¡°Actually, I think I¡¯d prefer if we did it mile after mile, not step by step. Let¡¯s talk about some of those death sentences down in your basement. Do you know how old the youngest of them was, when he was sentenced to death?¡±


    ¡°I admit, I have no idea.¡±


    ¡°He was fourteen. Sentenced to death for gleaning from his lord¡¯s fields. As was his right.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± George Louis said. ¡°I agree with you,¡± he added, to David¡¯s surprise. ¡°An ancient right, for which nobody should be punished. One I would be willing to grant, once I have been crowned king, yes. But it¡¯s not a right the Valoise understand, unfortunately. I¡¯m therefore afraid that this matter will have to wait until I have been crowned. I¡¯m sure that Desmarais would argue that the sentence was just. By the Valoisian idea of property, the land and everything that grows on it belongs to the lord, and gleaning would thus be, indeed, stealing.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised that Mr. Bell picked this boy to be considered for the bite. How does he fare?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s mostly all right,¡± David said. ¡°Scared, of course, but so far no sign of madness.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡±


    David did a double-take at that question. ¡°Alvin,¡± he said after a moment.


    ¡°Well, keep me informed.¡±


    David was fairly certain that George Louis had only said that to butter up to him. But that was fine. That was why he had come to Eoforwic, after all. Even though it was pretty damn ironic that Morgulon had asked him, the Relentless, of all people, to keep George Louis decent.

 Chapter 62

    ¡°Are you busy today?¡± George Louis asked when David didn¡¯t say anything more. ¡°There is going to be a strategy meeting with my most senior naval officers in a few minutes. I would like you to join in, if you have the time.¡±


    ¡°I know even less about naval warfare than about land-based warfare,¡± David pointed out.


    ¡°I would like you to assess the men present, not the strategy discussed,¡± George Louis said. ¡°One of them will be my future First Lord of the Admiralty, and one of them will be named Fleet Commander, though he¡¯ll mostly be tasked with building said fleet. They are all aware of the open positions, of course.¡±


    David considered making up an excuse, but then he shrugged. ¡°Sure, I can do that.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± George Louis said. ¡°In that case, I shall introduce you as my first Royal Advisor. We¡¯ll solidify your position in the future, no worries.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± David said.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look so excited,¡± George Louis griped. ¡°Did you really think you would get through this whole ordeal without a position in my court? After it was you who made all this possible in the first place?¡±


    ¡°That honour most certainly should go to Greg,¡± David pointed out, mostly to be contrary. ¡°Or possibly the Morgulon. You could replace me tomorrow, if you only wanted to, but you can¡¯t replace her.¡±


    ¡°Oh, open your eyes, David! There¡¯s already a dozen werewolves in the basement who I will bet are personally loyal to you after just one month! Who would I replace you with? Bringing them newspapers? Writing letters to their family? Who would even think of such a thing?¡±


    Anyone half decent, David thought, but he kept his mouth shut.


    George Louis shook his head. ¡°I do not have any intention to replace you,¡± the duke said. ¡°And I absolutely cannot. The werewolves in the basement aside, as far as the Loegrian nobility is concerned, you were one of the hunters who first made the discovery that werewolves can fight the Rot.¡±


    The duke raised a hand, before David even opened his mouth to object. ¡°Yes, I know that Mr. Levi and his crew made it first, and they will be rewarded. That is not the point. Mr. Levi is a commoner, and a Wayfarer to boot. You know these things are important. The name Abraham Feleke is one the nobles of Loegrion trust, the word of one of the Feleke Four has had weight in court even before. You can refuse everything else I offer, David, but you are too smart to refuse this position.¡±


    The truth was that David wanted to laugh, rather than refuse. Was this what Morgulon had predicted? A Royal Advisor¡¯s position?


    ¡°Fine,¡± David said. ¡°Should I start calling you ¡°You Majesty¡±, then?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± George Louis said. ¡°But let¡¯s wait until after the coronation.¡±


    ¡°Which I am sure you are already planning. Is there a date set, yet?¡±


    ¡°No date has been set yet, no,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Not before spring, though. I will have to prove myself first. Make some more friends, too.¡±


    ¡°Remarry?¡± David asked.


    George Louis grimaced. ¡°Unlikely.¡±


    The duke checked his pocket watch. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said, pushing himself out of his chair.


    David was about to ask where they were going, but George Louis just opened a door, and stepped into a room where six men were already standing around a large map table. George Louis stepped aside as soon as he had crossed the threshold, so David could watch the men¡¯s reaction.


    Three of them, all on the left side of the table, snapped to attention smartly at the sight of the duke. Two of them were older, one younger, but their faces were all weather-beaten, and each of the three wore the uniform as if they knew no other clothing. These were clearly officers who had not gotten their ranks through luck of birth, but through merit and experience.


    On the other side of the table stood two Marquesses, and a third man David didn¡¯t know.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°My lords, at ease,¡± George Louis said. ¡°I introduce to you the Honourable David Feleke, Royal Advisor and werewolf hunter extraordinaire. I¡¯m sure you have all heard of him.¡±


    The three nobles to the right side of the table were quick to greet David, while the other three were clearly wondering what he was doing at this meeting.


    ¡°These high lords are the Most Honourable the Marquess of Deggan, Lord Warden Rover, the Most Honourable the Marquess of Breachpoint, Lord Warden Picot, and the Most Honourable the Marquess of King¡¯s Haven, Lord Warden Malemaines.¡±


    Malemaines was the only one of the three that David had never happened across in Court at Deva before. If he remembered correctly, Picot hardly ever even spent time at the town he was tasked with protecting.


    ¡°And these three lords are Commodores D¡¯Aubigny and Giffard, and Captain Shelvig,¡± George Louis added.


    David had expected there to be at least a Rear Admiral present. Then again, all the highest ranking naval officers were from Valoir itself. Loegrion hadn¡¯t had a navy worthy of the name since they had been conquered.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s get to it,¡± George Louis added. ¡°I have received your reports pertaining to the ships, air vessels, and coastal defences we have at our disposal. We now need to decide how they may be best deployed to stop the Valoise from landing on our coasts.¡±


    When the duke clapped his hands, a servant entered, distributing a stack of papers. David didn¡¯t receive one.


    ¡°Have our contacts in Rambouillet been able to verify that the Valoisian fleet will indeed be heading towards the northern parts of the heartlands?¡± Commodore D¡¯Aubigny asked.


    ¡°All information we received indicates that the fleet will land north of the White Torrent¡¯s mouth,¡± George Louis confirmed.


    ¡°It would make no sense for them to raise the Rot in areas where they can expect at least some support from the resident nobility,¡± Marquess Rover of Deggan added.


    ¡°True,¡± the Commodore replied. ¡°But it¡¯s good to be sure. The current Roi Solei has been known for making ¨C unexpected decisions before.¡±


    And thus the argument started. The Lord Warden of Deggan was convinced that his city was the most likely point of attack and wanted the majority of the fleet posted there, while the Lord Warden of Breachpoint was convinced of whatever George Louis had said last.


    David dismissed Picot mentally. He was clearly not fit to become the First Lord of Admiralty. Marquess Malemaines was a different matter. The man said little, but asked intelligent questions, and didn¡¯t try to argue that King¡¯s Haven, far to the north, was likely to be hit by anything but diversionary tactics. Lord Rover talked over anyone who dared to disagree with him, except for George Louis.


    Unfortunately, as Lord Warden of Deggan, Rover was the highest-ranking Marquess present. Passing him over for the position, which was absolutely not mentioned, would likely be tricky for Duke George Louis.


    As far as the position of Fleet Commander went, David thought that George Louis wouldn¡¯t go amiss with either of the three Naval Officers present. What Shelvig, the youngest of the three, might be lacking in experience, he was clearly making up for in spirit. He wasn¡¯t afraid to argue with Marquess Rover, and even voiced his forthright opinion when he disagreed with the duke.


    The discussion lasted long into the afternoon, and even David was relieved when a couple of servants started serving refreshments and food. Mostly, he was bored. Still, he made no attempt to excuse himself. It wasn¡¯t like he had anything better to do in Eoforwic, anyway.


    ¡°Well, what did you think?¡± George Louis asked, as soon as the door closed behind Picot, who had taken his sweet time leaving.


    ¡°For Fleet Commander? Any of the officers will do just fine, I reckon,¡± David shrugged, picking up a lonely olive left behind on one of the platters the food had been served on. ¡°For First Lord of the Admiralty, I¡¯d personally pick Malemaines, though I realize he¡¯s the lowest ranking of the Counts.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Unexpected. He didn¡¯t contribute much.¡±


    ¡°Neither did Lord Rover, for all that he talked so much,¡± David pointed out. ¡°You had three experienced and accomplished officers standing here, but did Rover even hear them? Malemaines may not have presented many ideas of his own, but at least he knows how to listen. I think he¡¯d do the job well.¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°If it¡¯s fresh ideas you want, you could always do the radical thing,¡± he added, ¡°and appoint either D¡¯Aubigny or Giffard First Lord of the Admiralty. Make the other one Fleet Commander, promote Shelvig to admiral, too, and give him the actual field command. Or sea command, or whatever sailors call it.¡±


    George Louis seemed to seriously consider it. ¡°Tricky,¡± he said finally. ¡°Rover is unpopular enough in Deva that I can pass him over, and I don¡¯t think anybody in their right mind would want to give Picot the position. But passing over the peerage entirely and putting the navy into the hands of the lower nobility... That¡¯ll be difficult.¡±


    ¡°How difficult, though?¡± David asked. ¡°You can always argue that Loegrion doesn¡¯t really have a navy to begin with. So it¡¯s not like you¡¯re giving a huge privilege away.¡±


    ¡°You know, I¡¯ll think about it,¡± George Louis said, nodding to himself. ¡°D¡¯Aubigny¡¯s oldest brother is a Marquess, so the issue might not even be raised. Yes, why not?¡±


    The duke laughed. ¡°Oh, you are going to make enemies fast, you know that, David?¡±


    He grew serious again quickly, when David didn¡¯t reply. ¡°Is it some other time yet?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David said.


    ¡°But you¡¯ll be back tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Are there going to be more deliberations?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯ll be deliberations every day, until the Valoise are here and the time for talking is over. But a Royal Advisor can hardly be deterred by that, can he?¡±


    ¡°No, I suppose not,¡± David sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll be back after I¡¯ve spoken to the werewolves.¡±

 Chapter 63

    As he had promised, David returned to George Louis¡¯s office after writing a couple more letters the next day. There were petitioners lined up in the hallway when he walked up, hoping to speak to the duke. David stood at his side while George Louis received them: Farmers, and commoners, and some landed gentry, too, all with some request or grievance. David was surprised that George Louis bothered to hear them out, sometimes even promised aid.


    ¡°Someone once told me that a king should make time for his subjects and be merciful,¡± George Louis said, when David wondered about that aloud, while they took a break to eat.


    ¡°And why do you want me here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just for appearance¡¯s sake,¡± George Louis shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t sit there all on my own, can I? A king needs advisors. And you are quite famous, you have to realize that? Popular, too. The closest thing Loegrion has to a hero, right now.¡±


    ¡°If you say so,¡± David said.


    When George Louis asked him out for dinner at night, he once again declined.


    The next day, George Louis was taking care of company matters, but he still wanted David around. And the day after that, it was back to war preparations. Another day later, the duke left the company early, to once again take his son to the fencing school. David went along. He still declined dinner every night.


    The next morning, his visit to the prison was interrupted by a messenger boy. A nearby crew of railway navvies had been attacked during the night. The workmen had been incredibly lucky ¨C still, two of them had gotten bitten ¨C and the young werewolf protecting them had been severely injured by a couple of mad ones. George Louis had already signed the warrant.


    David considered refusing. He considered sending for Lane, considered the danger of going out after two mad werewolves alone. But the long and the short of it was that there were two mad werewolves less than ten miles south of Eoforwic, in a fairly densely populated area, and every hour they were left to roam free was a danger not only to everyone in the surrounding villages but also to every sane werewolf.


    So he got onto the next train to Brines where he saddled his gelding, packed what he needed, and got moving. It was easy to find out where he needed to go ¨C he simply followed the rails. Soon, there were no rails, only the trackbed, and as the shadows grew long, with the waxing half moon already high in the sky, he reached the point where that ended, too. The camp where the navvies had been attacked wasn¡¯t hard to find after that. David didn¡¯t even need to get out of the saddle to pick up the trail of the two attackers.


    He still hesitated to follow it. He felt vulnerable, out here all on his own.


    David cursed himself softly.


    It wasn¡¯t night yet and he hadn¡¯t even started, and already, the memory threatened to overwhelm him, the memory of those first desperate hunts, when he had been hardly more than a child. The terror of those first nights, alone in the dark forest, alone with the monsters, the fear of failing. The fear that he wasn¡¯t good enough to save his mother and brothers, that he might lose them.


    How had Lane done this over and over again?


    ¡°Coward,¡± he whispered to himself. If his brothers could see him right now, they¡¯d be appalled.


    Oh, how he wished he shared Nathan¡¯s complete lack of respect for the dangers that lurked in the shadows underneath the trees. Or even better, to have Nathan here by his side. But his brother was at First Camp, looking after the werewolves there.


    ¡°Coward, coward, coward,¡± David whispered again. ¡°Come on. You owe this much to Greg.¡±


    And he prompted his gelding forward, after the werewolves. After just a few yards, he took his crossbow off his back, to be ready for anything. It was unlikely that his quarry had hung around, but he still jumped at every unseen, rustling leaf.


    As if he were the prey, not the hunter.


    Strangely enough, as night fell and he needed to light a torch, he finally fell back into the familiar rhythm of the hunt. He could feel himself breathing easier while he followed the trail on foot. The trees had thinned out, too, so that it felt as if he were walking through a large hall with many pillars.


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    At sunrise, he decided to take a break and rest a little. Since he was alone, with no one to watch his back, he climbed up into a tree, out of reach of any werewolf, to doze for a couple of hours. Something woke him even earlier, a strange feeling in the back of his head. David sat upright with a jolt and grabbed his crossbow.


    There was a single werewolf just standing there, easily within shooting range, but there was one problem. The navvies had given fairly clear descriptions of the two which had attacked them, and this one matched neither: The fur was a nearly uniform grey, with none of the markings David had been given.


    For a long moment, they just stared at each other. David had no idea what to do ¨C he couldn¡¯t shoot the werewolf without a warrant, after all. The werewolf seemed equally frozen to the spot.


    It was embarrassing how long it took before it occurred to him that he might try speaking.


    ¡°Hey, you,¡± David called finally, lowering his weapon a little. ¡°Can you understand me?¡±


    After a few seconds the werewolf replied with a jerky, but unmistakable nod.


    David balanced the crossbow on his knees and raised his empty hands. ¡°You didn¡¯t happen to come across a couple of mad ones?¡±


    When the werewolf nodded again, David cursed himself for not asking a clearer question. ¡°You did?¡±


    The werewolf shook their head, but then walked a few steps forward, to about the point where David had abandoned the trail yesterday, and pawed the ground.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s their trail,¡± David confirmed. ¡°I¡¯ll come down now, okay?¡±


    The werewolf retreated several yards again but didn¡¯t take off, so David slung the crossbow over his back, and climbed back down.


    ¡°Are you going to Eoforwic?¡± David asked once he was standing on the ground.


    The werewolf shrugged, then nodded.


    ¡°Want to help me?¡± David asked, surprising himself a little.


    The werewolf quickly shook their head and hurried away before David could say anything more.


    ¡°Right,¡± David muttered to himself. ¡°Well, might as well get moving, since I¡¯m awake.¡±


    He checked his horse over quickly, to make sure the gelding was still in good shape, before he climbed back into the saddle. If he was lucky, the two mad ones he was after had split up since the attack, so he could take them down one after the other. If not, he might have to get creative.


    After an hour, he found the place where the two werewolves had rested. They must have been hungry when they woke up, David found traces of them hunting, and at noon, the remains of a red deer. It hadn¡¯t been dead long. He was getting close.


    He paused again, to allow his gelding another rest. He didn¡¯t want to run into two dangerous werewolves with a tired horse. Especially not without any of the other ¡°Feleke Four¡± to watch his back, and the prey outnumbering him.


    He found them in the evening, out in the open in a wide clearing. The two werewolves had killed another deer, and stretched out right next to it in the evening sun. It looked like they had barely even fed on their kill. They were awake, unfortunately, just basking in the sun.


    When David stopped his gelding between the trees and reached for his crossbow, one of them raised its head, and then got up. Growling, and planting its feet in front of the dead deer, as if it wanted to defend the carcass.


    The second one got up, too. It just stood there, throwing its head left and right.


    David raised his crossbow. Neither of the two made any attempt to run away, so he shot the growling one, which was presenting him a clear target. Of course, just as he loosened the shot, it turned a little, and David had to waste his second bolt to make sure it was dead. The other one screamed, a sound that turned into a whine, and came at David at full speed. He rushed his gelding into a mad gallop.


    Re-arming his crossbow while racing through the forest was always tricky business. David tried to avoid having to do that in the first place, but there was nothing for it now. As soon as he had managed it, he turned in the saddle. The werewolf was still right behind him, only a few yards away. If they had both been standing still, it would have been an easy shot. This way, David once again used both shots he had and then raced onwards until his gelding slowed down in exhaustion. David put two more bolts into his weapon before he threw the reins over a branch and left the horse behind. Carefully, he stalked back.


    The werewolf was still alive, and still following him, even though a limp slowed it down considerably. David put it out of its misery with another bolt and then cut its throat, just to be doubly sure.


    He could already hear Andrew and Nathan ribbing him for needing five quarrels to bring down two werewolves. He checked the dead body and didn¡¯t even find one of them.


    ¡°Must have missed completely,¡± he grumbled to himself. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time that had happened to him.


    He retraced the way the mad chase had taken and found the missing bolt stuck in the mud.


    ¡°Yeah, not gonna tell Nathan about that,¡± he muttered.


    He went back to where his gelding was faithfully waiting for him. David led it back to where the first werewolf was fallen, where it took him a good while to gather both the head and pelt. And then he had to repeat the messy procedure in the clearing with the second werewolf.


    It was almost fully dark by the time he was done with that, so David found another tree which he could climb. He tied his horse to the trunk loosely so that it could walk around it to graze, and then picked a strong branch to rest a little. Proper sleep turned out to be impossible, though.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting too old for this crap,¡± he muttered to himself when he gave up trying a couple of hours before morning, and climbed down again. At least his horse had gotten better rest.

 Chapter 64

    David nearly fell asleep in the saddle on his way back. By the time he got back to Brines, it was noon. David wanted nothing more than to go straight to bed, but if he did so now, he¡¯d only mess up his sleeping rhythm. He had just gotten used to getting up in the morning rather than the evening. Also, the werewolf pelts would start to reek. Better if he dropped them off quickly.


    Maybe, David mused as people stared at him on the railway, he should have gotten changed at the estate. And it might have been a good idea to find bags that would hide the heads and furs completely, too. The other passengers on the train did not look happy.


    They all kept as much distance as they possibly could, though, and didn¡¯t dare complain about him.


    The guards at the station in Eoforwic were less cowed by his appearance. He was hailed before he had even made it off the platform.


    ¡°Oy, you! In the bloody coat!¡± they called after him. ¡°Halt!¡±


    David stopped wearily. Two guards hurried his way.


    ¡°You¡¯re a werewolf hunter?¡± the older one asked.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m carrying the crossbow and two severed heads because I like the looks they get,¡± David muttered into his collar. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m a hunter,¡± he added louder, when the two planted themselves right in front of him.


    ¡°We need to see a warrant for those,¡± the older guard said importantly.


    ¡°Right,¡± David muttered. ¡°Sure.¡±


    He put the heavy pelts down onto the ground, to rummage through his pockets until he found the bloody paper.


    Literally bloody. The younger guard took it with a grimace.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to report to the Lackland Company,¡± David said, while they studied it. ¡°Or Duke George Louis, if he¡¯s in.¡±


    They let him go without making him show them the full pelts.


    David sighed inwardly. There was no way a cab would take him as a passenger, and even on the busy streets of the New City, people gave him a wide berth. When he finally made it to the Lackland Company, the clerks were just as thrilled to see him as everyone else. Three of them informed him in a loud chorus that he needed to take his burden downstairs before he could get too close to their orderly desks.


    When David dropped the heads and pelts off with the luckless clerk in charge of all werewolf matters, someone in the prison cells started howling. David considered walking over there to reassure them but then realized that seeing ¨C and smelling ¨C him covered in the blood of their own kind would probably do the opposite.


    ¡°I suppose these are the right pelts,¡± the clerk said, somewhat uncertainly, while looking back and forth between the descriptions the navvies had given and the pelts, which were mostly red with blood.


    ¡°Sun, we need a better system than this,¡± muttered the man, but finally signed some document, added a seal, and opened a little safe to hand over the bounty.


    David had meant to go home as soon as he had been given his reward, but of course, at that point, a messenger boy came running to inform him that George Louis wanted to see him straight away.


    David considered refusing. He hadn¡¯t really slept for the past two nights, and he was too tired to play games.


    But instead, he told the boy: ¡°Tell His Highness there better be coffee.¡±


    ¡°Will do, Sir!¡±


    David watched the kid speed away, and shook his head, before following at a leisurely pace. The stairs up to the duke¡¯s office felt like a mountain he needed to climb. It gave him time to notice all the guards stationed around the large main hall. Had there always been so many of them?


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t you look lovely today,¡± George Louis greeted him. David might have punched him, if he hadn¡¯t been offering a pot of coffee with the words, too. ¡°Please tell me that none of that is yours.¡±


    ¡°None,¡± David muttered between mouths full of coffee.


    ¡°Did you sleep at all since you left?¡± the duke continued.


    David shook his head.


    ¡°How about dinner?¡± George Louis asked.


    David gaped at him. He had to be kidding, right?


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    But George Louis already continued: ¡°I¡¯ll throw in a bath and some fresh clothes, too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not wearing your clothes,¡± David managed. ¡°That¡¯ll just give you ideas.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on. Do you really hate me so much that you¡¯d rather walk back to the station right now? I promise it¡¯ll be nothing other than dinner.¡± The duke sighed. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll have someone bring you home tonight, too.¡±


    David closed his eyes and tried to form a coherent answer, but then he just nodded. ¡°Fine,¡± he finally managed. ¡°Dinner. But you better get me home tonight.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± George Louis said, rubbing his hands.


    By the time David had finished the coffee, the duke had finished whatever he had worked on and organized them a carriage. An escort, too.


    ¡°We¡¯re there,¡± George Louis woke him up. When David jerked upright, he added: ¡°Are you going to be all right on your own, or do you need me to be there, to make sure you don¡¯t drown in the bath?¡±


    ¡°Hilarious,¡± David muttered.


    They had stopped in front of a palais in the Old City. David realized that he had never asked where George Louis lived when he was in Eoforwic. If he had thought about it, this would have been the kind of place he imagined: A tall wall surrounded the whole place, with a handsome wrought-iron gate. The mansion behind it looked like it was bigger than Heron Hall, and the whole place was bustling with footmen and guards.


    The servants were trying hard not to stare at David, but not all of them succeeded. Little George didn¡¯t even try when he greeted them at the door.


    ¡°Have you been in a fight?¡± he asked, excited in the way that only someone who had never seen real death up close could be about so much blood. ¡°A duel? Did you kill a man?¡±


    ¡°Hunt,¡± David said.


    ¡°Oh,¡± George said.


    ¡°He had to kill two werewolves,¡± his father added. ¡°He also didn¡¯t sleep in a couple of days, so don¡¯t expect too much eloquence from him.¡±


    ¡°Eloquence,¡± David muttered. ¡°Important word to know for a kid his age.¡±


    ¡°Oh, hush. When did you learn to use a crossbow?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°When will you teach me how to use a crossbow, Dad?¡± George asked promptly.


    David couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°When he¡¯s learned himself.¡±


    George Louis slapped him gently across the back of the head. ¡°I can shoot.¡±


    ¡°A barn door, sure.¡±


    He caught the hand when George Louis tried to slap him again, possibly not quite as gently this time.


    ¡°Go get cleaned up,¡± the duke said, waving over a servant.


    David wondered whether the house had its own telegraph line, or how else George Louis had informed his people so quickly, but there was a hot bath waiting for him, and more coffee, too. He fell asleep as soon as he was stretched out in the large tub, but he did manage to keep his head above the surface just fine.


    It probably shouldn¡¯t have surprised him that when he woke up, George Louis was sitting on the chair over which David had thrown his dirty clothes earlier. He was pretending to read. The dirty clothes were gone.


    ¡°You¡¯re impossible, you know that?¡± David asked. Not that there was much of him to see. The foam had held up quite well.


    ¡°It has been mentioned before. You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t want me to join you?¡±


    ¡°Positive. How long did I sleep?¡±


    George Louis glanced at his pocket watch. ¡°If you fell asleep right away, about an hour.¡±


    Well, that explained why the coffee was cold. The bathwater was getting there, too.


    ¡°Are you sure you want to go back to Brines after dinner? We do have guest rooms here.¡±


    David just glared at him, until the duke looked away.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll let the driver know to be ready. And I¡¯ll have some clothes brought in now.¡±


    He got up and actually left David alone long enough that he could clean himself up all the way, and then get dry and dressed. The manservant who had brought the clothes was waiting in front of the bath¡¯s door to show him the way to the drawing-room where George Louis was having a cigar, still carrying his book. David picked one of the plush armchairs and leaned back.


    ¡°Cigar?¡± George Louis asked. ¡°Or do you still not smoke?¡±


    ¡°Pass,¡± David said, without opening his eyes.


    ¡°How long will it take you to recover?¡±


    David frowned at him. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean, will you be back tomorrow at the Company?¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯ll be back tomorrow,¡± David said. ¡°I need to check on Alvin and the others.¡±


    ¡°I see. I suppose this isn¡¯t anything unusual for you.¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°Doing it on my own is unusual. Normally, there¡¯s at least Nathan at my side. Makes it more exhausting, when you constantly have to look over your shoulder in case something unexpected happens. But being out in the forest for a couple of nights or three, and not sleeping properly, that¡¯s pretty par for the course.¡± He shrugged again. ¡°Sometimes it takes a week, sometimes it takes a month to get the werewolf. That¡¯s how long you stay out in the field.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the longest you ever went without sleep?¡±


    ¡°Any sleep? Never longer than a couple of nights. But going for a couple of weeks with never more than four hours of sleep per day isn¡¯t unusual.¡±


    ¡°Must be terrifying, being a werewolf, and having you on the trail.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Bernadette¡¯s pack said the same, Greg mentioned. I think I¡¯m not that much worse than father, or Nathan.¡±


    ¡°Worse? I can¡¯t think of anyone I¡¯d rather have watching my back. And I realize that you¡¯re still mad at me. But will you do at least that?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t protect you against magic,¡± David pointed out, surprised by this sudden turn the conversation had taken. ¡°Or poison.¡±


    When George Louis just looked at him, he added: ¡°As far as conventional threats go, you can count on me.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Is there a specific reason for this request, or is this just general paranoia?¡±


    George Louis shrugged. ¡°There have been warning signs,¡± he said. ¡°You may have noticed that I had the guard around the Company strengthened, too?¡±


    David rubbed his face. ¡°I did,¡± he said. ¡°Got any amulets, something to protect you against magic?¡±


    ¡°Several, yes. Would you like one, too?¡±


    David shook his head. ¡°Wish I had brought a sword, though,¡± he yawned. ¡°Pistol, too, if there¡¯re going to be assassins.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯ll allow me, I¡¯ll be happy to have you armed properly.¡±


    David hesitated only a second before he nodded.


    Young George slipped into the room then, a chess set folded under his arm. David didn¡¯t play, but he forced himself to stay awake and watch as George Louis taught his son about strategy, about thinking several steps ahead, and setting up a battlefield so that every move your opponent could make could be turned to your own advantage.


    He couldn¡¯t quite help the feeling that George Louis had been setting him up the same way.

 Chapter 65

    By the time David was up and ready to leave for Eoforwic the next morning, a little later than usual, there were two large parcels waiting for him: One of them very long and narrow, the other a square box.


    ¡°The delivery boy said they¡¯re from his Highness, the Duke of Mannin,¡± Miss Rose informed him. She hovered around the table where she had put them down and was obviously curious to see what might be inside.


    ¡°I see,¡± David said. ¡°Well, that was quick.¡±


    ¡°You were expecting a gift from His Highness?¡± the housekeeper asked, shocked.


    David hesitated. ¡°Less a gift, more a necessary provisions for the job he wants me to do,¡± he hedged and opened the long, narrow box first. ¡°Oh yes, this¡¯ll do nicely,¡± he muttered to himself. He took the sword out, pulled it out of its scabbard, and swung it through the air, grinning. George Louis did know him, after all.


    It was a proper duelling sword, a weapon made for one purpose alone: to kill a single opponent in a straight-up fight. The blade was stiff, and light, and ideal to run a foe through yet just wide enough to take a slight edge. Enough to cut flesh. Perfectly balanced, too. The hilt and guard were practical rather than representative, though what decorations they did possess were nicely done.


    Miss Rose backed away a few steps.


    The other box contained not one but two of the new percussion revolvers, both looking like they had never been fired before, complete with ammunition, caps, and a black powder flask. David decided to leave them in the box until he could take them to a range to test them thoroughly.


    He did hang the sword in its scabbard to his belt, smiling. He could already hear Nathan¡¯s comments on how flowers were a more common gift in courtship, but he certainly preferred this.


    ¡°What ¨C what is this job His Highness wants you to do, if I may ask, Sir?¡± Miss Rose interrupted his train of thought.


    ¡°He¡¯s worried about hired cutthroats,¡± David said calmly. Or, possibly, he was just eager to woo him with shiny things.


    ¡°Oh my,¡± Miss Rose muttered with a nervous flutter of her hands. ¡°Oh my, let¡¯s hope not.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope not,¡± David agreed. ¡°But it¡¯s still better to be prepared.¡±


    People on the train once again eyed him, slightly worried, armed as he was, while interestingly, the werewolves didn¡¯t react to the sword, except for Alvin who asked: ¡°That¡¯s new, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°The duke is worried about Valoisian hired killers,¡± David explained once again.


    ¡°Since you¡¯re back, does that mean that you got those mad ones?¡±


    David nodded. ¡°I did get them. When did they execute Spencer?¡± he asked. ¡°And who did?¡±


    Alvin shuddered visibly and looked away. ¡°The guards said he is an actual executioner,¡± he said softly. ¡°Don¡¯t think he knew how to use a crossbow well, though. He fired two shots of silver, but it still took an hour for Spencer to die. They brought him in the second day you were gone, cause Spencer started chewing on his bars.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± David sighed. ¡°The executioner didn¡¯t cut his throat, so he¡¯d go quicker?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t want to go in there at all.¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose it¡¯s good that I¡¯m back,¡± David muttered darkly. ¡°Though I very much hope that we won¡¯t lose anyone else. Did the guards mention another werewolf coming to the company?¡± David added. ¡°I met a sane one in the forest.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t really talk to us,¡± Alvin shrugged. ¡°Only to yell. Not like you.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    David stared back over his shoulder, but he couldn¡¯t even really blame the men. For them, it was probably still hard to believe that there was such a thing as a sane monster, a creature of magic that could be trusted.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be back tomorrow,¡± David promised. ¡°Unless something else comes up, I mean.¡±


    Alvin nodded. ¡°Two more full moons,¡± he muttered.


    David hesitated. ¡°Honestly, that may depend on when the Valoisian fleet lands. Could be that you guys will be send out to help defend the coast even before your fifth full moon. Unless Greg pulls off a miracle and brings us several elders, we¡¯ll need every single werewolf available.¡±


    Alvin¡¯s face lit up at those words, and then he looked away somewhat sheepishly. ¡°Now I almost wish your brother doesn¡¯t find anyone. Or only one or two elders.¡±


    David smiled wryly and left the prison. George Louis was already getting impatient.


    ¡°It¡¯s past lunchtime,¡± he complained. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°Too kind of you,¡± David said. ¡°What¡¯s on the schedule today, anyway?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s not much left, since you¡¯re late,¡± George Louis gave back. ¡°I¡¯ll be dealing with some paperwork. Running a duchy from this far away is a pain.¡±


    ¡°Exciting,¡± David said. ¡°I thought you have people for that.¡±


    ¡°They still need my input every now and then.¡±


    David pulled up a chair. ¡°You didn¡¯t happen to have any report about a werewolf around here? A sane one?¡±


    ¡°You should ask downstairs about that. Why?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°I asked when I was downstairs, they didn¡¯t know anything. I met this one while on the hunt. Didn¡¯t turn human, but they nodded or shook their head at my questions. Didn¡¯t give a real clear answer when I asked whether they were coming here.¡±


    George Louis didn¡¯t look particularly impressed, for all that he said: ¡°Interesting. Any chance it¡¯s someone older?¡±


    ¡°Actually, yes,¡± David said. ¡°I can¡¯t be entirely sure, I was dozing when they came walking up. But something woke me, and I¡¯m wondering if it was the same thing I felt around Fenn or the Morgulon.¡±


    George Louis put his quill down at those words. ¡°Care to elaborate on that?¡±


    So David did his best to explain the strange aura the Morgulon had emitted when she had been close, the way he could feel her move even when he didn¡¯t see her.


    ¡°It might have been nothing like that,¡± he finished. ¡°Might have been just a bird that woke me. But I just thought it was worth keeping an eye out for them.¡±


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    ¡°Absolutely,¡± George Louis agreed.


    Morgulon raised her head when they crossed the makeshift bridge across the Lour as if someone had called her name. Lane, and Morgulon, as well as Jody, Mia, and Chester had started moving towards Eoforwic, towards the coast, so that hopefully they would get there in time for the first attack of the Empire. Morgulon could only move slowly, so they had left first. Bernadette and pack had taken Morgulon¡¯s place with Eyal¡¯s crew, and Charles, Jody, and Mia would stay at First Camp. They weren¡¯t actual elders, but between the three of them and the two young werewolves still there, they should be able to keep the bridge crew safe.


    Lane glanced over towards the building site, abandoned in the last light of day. Work on the bridge was progressing steadily, and to Lane¡¯s inexperienced eyes it actually looked mostly done. At least there was a continuous frame across the river.


    Only when she looked back from the other side of the river, Lane realized that while the first bars stretched all the way across, there was no platform to it yet ¨C nothing for the rails to go on.


    When they arrived at First Camp, where they would have to stay for four days because of the upcoming full moon, all the workers came to stare at Morgulon. Word had travelled, of course, about the pregnancy. Morgulon was still looking into the distance distractedly.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Lane asked Mia, once they sat around the big bonfire in the middle of First Camp, where the navvies were roasting two pigs. Morgulon seemed barely interested in the food and peculiarly unbothered by the huge fire.


    ¡°There¡¯s someone,¡± Mia said. ¡°I can only feel them like, really faintly. Either they¡¯re really far away, or they¡¯re not all that old.¡±


    ¡°I bet it¡¯s someone going to Eoforwic,¡± Jody said.


    ¡°Would that count as far away?¡± Lane asked though she was pretty certain the answer would be no.


    Jody shook her head. ¡°Ten miles isn¡¯t far, no. Still, they¡¯d be an elder, for us to notice them.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s someone going to Eoforwic then,¡± Lane said. ¡°We could use another elder.¡±


    She couldn¡¯t help feeling worried, though. This night wouldn¡¯t be a problem, but tomorrow night would be the first night of full moon. Had this strange elder found a place where it would be safe for them to transform? She had seen some newspaper reports according to which the first villages were starting to put up cages for werewolves. But without that...


    Lane was woken way too early the next morning by someone pounding at the door of the hut she had been put up in. Morgulon, who had gone to sleep outside said the door, was nowhere to be seen when Lane groggily opened it.


    ¡°Sorry to wake you up so early, Ma¡¯am,¡± the soldier on the other side said. ¡°But there¡¯s a strange werewolf outside the Camp.¡±


    Lane groaned. ¡°Seriously, Morgulon?¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°Just a moment,¡± Lane sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll be right there.¡±


    When she stepped outside of the hut, the soldier was gone, and Morgulon was back, staring at her expectantly in the cold grey first light of day.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that. Don¡¯t pretend you didn¡¯t somehow call them here.¡±


    Morgulon wagged her tail once and settled down in front of the hut again. Lane glared at her for a moment longer, before she followed the guard towards the gates of First Camp. It was still closed, with guards milling about when she approached. They waited until Nathan Feleke, officially the resident werewolf hunter of First Camp, got there, to push them wide open.


    There was indeed a werewolf out there, restlessly walking up and down a good stone throw away from the Camp. As soon as Lane and Nathan approached, he froze and turned human. Despite the time of the month, it was a smooth, very fast transformation. Lane could hear someone whistle behind her at the sight of the naked man standing in front of her. His age was hard to guess behind the shaggy beard, steel grey all the way. Not old, though, if the rest of his physique was anything to go by.


    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t it be a woman,¡± Nathan muttered, quietly enough that probably only Lane could hear him.


    ¡°Who¡¯re you?¡± the werewolf asked, looking back and forth between her and Nathan. He kept a good twenty yards between them, clearly ready to run.


    ¡°My name is Lane deLande. You might have heard about me under different names. This is Nathan Feleke.¡±


    To Lane¡¯s surprise, the werewolf didn¡¯t even twitch when he heard their names. All he asked was: ¡°The Morgulon?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s resting,¡± Lane said. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Dale.¡± He looked around. ¡°Those cages. Full moon only, yes?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re for full moon nights alone, yes,¡± Nathan confirmed.


    ¡°Want to see the Morgulon.¡±


    Before Lane could say anything, Jody called from up the parapet: ¡°She¡¯s asleep. Don¡¯t you dare bother her!¡±


    They glared at each other, and Dale was the first to look away, looking around again. Lane thought he was searching the parapets for more werewolves. After a moment, he turned back towards Lane and Nathan. ¡°I can come in? And help fight the Rot? Or would I go into cage now?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not putting anyone into a cage until evening,¡± Lane said. ¡°But yes, you can come into the camp, until work starts.¡±


    He nodded, and transformed again at those words, and padded right past Lane into the camp. He seemed surprisingly unbothered by her or Nathan, and despite Jody¡¯s warning, he went to find Morgulon right away. Lane hurried after him when she realized where he was going. When she got there, he sat on the ground, looking truly stunned for the first time. Lane could see Nathan grin.


    At least Morgulon hadn¡¯t woken up.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± Jody whispered from behind Lane. ¡°She hasn¡¯t turned human for three new moons now. She¡¯s tired!¡±


    Dale nodded and retreated slowly.


    ¡°Yes, probably the first werewolf cubs born on Loegrion since Morgulon herself,¡± Jody answered a silent question, once they were around a corner. ¡°No, we don¡¯t know when they¡¯ll be born. Not too much longer, I hope.¡±


    ¡°But hopefully also not before the Valoise land,¡± Lane added.


    Dale looked at her, head tilted. He still seemed surprised when Lane began to answer his unspoken question and explained about the first suppression force they were expecting to land at the coast soon.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know when, exactly,¡± Jody added. ¡°But very soon, like, not this full moon, but before the next. No, we have no idea how bad it¡¯ll be. Reinforcements are on their way, though. We just gotta hope they get here in time.¡±


    Lane jumped, and Nathan stopped in his tracks, too. ¡°What did you just say?¡± she asked.


    Jody looked at her and frowned. ¡°You were the one who sent Greg,¡± she pointed out.


    ¡°Yes, but are you sure he found someone?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Morgulon said so. I thought you knew.¡±


    ¡°How would I know?¡± Lane hissed. ¡°Neither you, nor any of the others said anything! Who did he find?¡±


    Jody shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t say. They¡¯re still too far, even for Morgulon to tell.¡±


    Lane tried to not get her hopes up too much, but she had to ask: ¡°You said the further the distance, the older the werewolf has to be for you to notice, yes? So that means Greg found someone really old?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Jody said. ¡°Either that, or he found several people willing to help.¡±


    ¡°We should tell David right away,¡± Nathan said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go write to him,¡± Lane said, and hurried away, almost giddy with relief.


    Greg had found someone. Either someone powerful, or enough werewolves that Morgulon could already sense them, anyway.


    ¡°Sun, I wish they could be more precise,¡± she muttered while she hurried over to the Captain¡¯s hut.


    Captain Reed was already wide awake, and clearly waiting for her to report on the new werewolf. ¡°Any good news?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yes, actually,¡± Lane said, and quickly relayed what little she knew about Dale.


    ¡°Sir Nathan is keeping an eye on him?¡±


    Lane nodded. ¡°He is. And I need to send a message with the first train to Eoforwic.¡±


    ¡°You can also send a telegram now,¡± Reed informed her. ¡°If you¡¯re in a hurry.¡±


    ¡°Right, I saw the lines.¡± Lane considered it. ¡°No, I need to write this out, and it¡¯ll be fine if it gets there on the train. There will be a train to Eoforwic today, right?¡±


    After she finished the letter, Lane rode out after the workers, who had already gotten back to the bridge. Jody, Mia, Chester, and the two other werewolves who had watched over Eyal¡¯s crew until now were sheltering from the stiff wind as much as possible in a small natural depression in the ground. Dale was close by, but up on the tiny hill, watching the workers climb all over the scaffolding of the bridge.


    Nathan was perched on the highest part of the stage, from where he could keep an eye on both sides of the Lour. He would have been able to shoot any of the werewolves from up there, too, but Lane suspected that he had just climbed up there out of boredom. She waved at him and directed her horse over to the group of werewolves to watch with them as the work progressed.


    Once the relief over Jody¡¯s revelation had worn off, it was a slow day. Frustratingly so. Lane had gotten used to the fact that there wasn¡¯t much for her to do when she was out with the workers, but with Eyal¡¯s crew, at least she had been able to talk to the navvies or ride around the camp. Here, all she could do was watch from a distance ¨C there was no way she would try to climb that bridge while it was nothing but a framework. The weather didn¡¯t help, the grey clouds that felt like they were going to smother the whole forest, and the icy wind blowing in from the north.


    Lane returned back to First Camp to check on Morgulon after the workmen had finished their lunch. She once again considered travelling onwards to Eoforwic today, but then tossed the thought. She didn¡¯t want to leave Morgulon for more than a few hours, and full moon would only be harder for her in the big city.


    All there was to do was sit around and wait for the moon to wane again.

 Chapter 66

    Three days later, they were finally ready to move onwards towards the coast. Lane was the first to climb aboard the freight compartment of the train that would take them to Eoforwic. Someone had place straw inside, to make it at least a little more comfortable for Morgulon, and Lane¡¯s mare, too. The horse was far happier to walk up the ramp than the she-wolf was.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± Lane said when Morgulon stopped at the bottom of the ramp. ¡°You can just lay down again, Morgulon, and in less than an hour, it¡¯ll be over.¡±


    Morgulon walked up stiffly, hackles raised. When she saw the straw, she did settle down, resting her head on the floor with her eyes firmly closed. She wined softly when the compartment door was shut with a bang. Lane sat down next to her, as soon as the train started moving, and gently ran a hand through the thick fur on her neck. By the time she felt Morgulon relax a little, they were nearly in Eoforwic.


    Morgulon stopped in the middle of the ramp when she saw the train station of Eoforwic. Smoke filled it from the trains, and voices from the many passengers. A whistle blew somewhere in the haze. Already, there were half a dozen busy platforms ¨C the line to Deva was fully operational, carrying probably the most people, but the lines to Northwold and Sheaf were busy, too, not least because of the novelty factor. There were smaller lines to towns and villages surrounding Eoforwic, and finally, there was the closed-off platform at which the train to Deeshire and Breachpoint would hopefully stop soon. Once they got the bridge finished.


    The noise in the hall grew even louder when people spotted Morgulon, and after a few seconds, she retreated back into the coach.


    ¡°Want me to go first?¡± Lane asked.


    Morgulon nodded. She stuck as close to Lane as possible as they made their way across the station. It struck Lane as strange that Morgulon, who had saved her in the mountains even after Lane had tried to kill her, who faced the Rot day by day without ever flinching, was so nervous about walking through a train station. Was it the fire of the engines? The sheer mass of people? Perhaps the noise? All of it together?


    They stopped by the Company headquarters to see how things were going there but didn¡¯t stay long. Lane wanted to be sure that they made it across the makeshift bridge across the Savre before it got dark. Ideally, they would even put a good bit of distance between themselves and the river.


    Morgulon hurried ahead when she realized that they were about to leave the city, and Lane climbed into the saddle rather than jog after her.


    Late the next day, Lane and Morgulon reached the current end to the line from Eoforwic to Breachpoint. Navvies had started to build it from both ends ¨C Eoforwic and Breachpoint. On Eoforwic¡¯s side, it had been stopped at the Savre¡¯s banks because of the bridge issue, but the workers from Breachpoint were getting close to the river from their side, too. Morgulon grumbled about it but boarded the train waiting for them willingly enough.


    When they woke up the next morning, they were at Breachpoint. If Duke George Louis¡¯s intelligence was correct, the point of attack would be just north of the city, outside of the reach of Breachpoint¡¯s cannons, but close enough that the Valoise would be able to cut through to the banks of the Savre within half a day, where they wouldn¡¯t even need to raise the Rot, just whip it into a frenzy.


    The only fortification at that point of the coast was an ancient, derelict castle, somewhat fittingly named Oldstone Castle. George Louis¡¯s men had scrambled to fix the place as much as possible. When Lane and Morgulon reached the stronghold, it was raining steadily, and the soldiers cheered as they walked through the gates.


    ¡°The Rot¡¯s been creeping about the place for days now,¡± the Captain in charge told them. ¡°Then we got the telegram from Breachpoint that you had arrived, and an hour later the Rot ran back to wherever it came from.¡±


    Right about the time they had left behind the walls of Breachpoint, Lane thought. She hadn¡¯t spotted a single Rot creature all day.


    Over the next few days, more soldiers arrived, and more werewolves, too. Marianne came with Henry and Marc, soon followed by Lee and Andrew, and the young girl named Daisy who had been with Duke George Louis at Deva the day Morgulon had sent the High Inquisitor running. Eventually, the protectors of the railway crews came, too. Dale arrived with Jody, Mia, and Chester, and a day later Bernadette and her pack got there with Nathan. One of the last to show up was Fenn. He and Morgulon growled at each other, but Lane knew enough by now to realize that Morgulon wasn¡¯t really still mad at Fenn. Had she been, he probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to enter the keep.


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    Duke George Louis came in person, too, David by his side.


    The only ones who didn¡¯t show up were the Valoise. Airships scouting on them reported that the fleet was nearby, just beyond the horizon, but it wasn¡¯t moving. It wasn¡¯t coming any closer.


    ¡°They¡¯re waiting for new moon.¡± David finally voiced what Lane feared one morning, as the duke inspected the work that was still progressing on the keep and the walls.


    At once, heads turned into their direction, but George Louis said: ¡°Joke¡¯s on them, then.¡±


    Lane thought he was putting a little too much faith into Morgulon¡¯s ability to keep them safe, but it was again David who voiced the thought: ¡°I don¡¯t think Morgulon will be able to fight in her state.¡±


    George Louis stopped above the gate, folding his arms across his chest. ¡°She won¡¯t have to fight at all. She just has to be there, so we can. My men have spent the last few weeks lining the outer walls of this castle with all the silver we could round up,¡± he added, staring down at the working soldiers. ¡°With the fire we¡¯ll be raining down on the Rot, I have faith that we¡¯ll survive the night. And any day they just sit out there, waiting, is more time for your brother to get here, David, with whoever he¡¯s bringing.¡±


    ¡°What if they don¡¯t even try to take this castle?¡± Lane asked, looking out towards the water. ¡°They might head straight into the heartlands. Or towards Breachpoint.¡±


    George Louis shrugged. ¡°Either way, they¡¯re wasting valuable time.¡± He shook his head. ¡°And they¡¯d be stupid to ignore us.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°They chose new moon night specifically to attack, so I¡¯m sure they expect our force of werewolves. And if they land here, or even anywhere else in the bay, what is there for them to reach within one night? We are, or Breachpoint,¡± George Louis said. ¡°And no other city is as heavily fortified against the Rot coming from the outside as Breachpoint is. If they fail to take the city¡¯s walls, we¡¯ll simply run them over the next day. If they head straight into the heartlands, that would be bad, yes. I have no doubt that they could slaughter thousands before we could hunt them down, and that would hurt us badly. But they would also have our entire force in their back. Either way, they will ultimately fail.¡±


    It took Lane a second to realize that George Louis wasn¡¯t really talking to her as much as all the soldiers milling about around them.


    ¡°Think they know you¡¯re here?¡± David asked. ¡°Because that would be the surest way to draw them to this place.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how they would know,¡± George Louis said. ¡°But I suppose we¡¯ll see.¡±


    David placed on hand on the hilt of the sword he had started carrying. Lane, instead, stared towards the west. Those of the werewolves who were up on the walls kept glancing into the same direction.


    Greg and his group were still a good distance away, Jody had said, but couldn¡¯t say just how far. And they hadn¡¯t received any word via telegram either. Lane hoped that this just meant Greg was avoiding all cities. If they were unlucky, it meant that they hadn¡¯t even reached Mannin yet, or Sheaf.


    Most werewolves were deep inside the keep though, in what had once been a dungeon. At the end of a corridor, the very last of the old cells had been repurposed and filled nearly entirely with straw. There were no torches burning anywhere close, and hidden within the straw was Morgulon. Lane was one of only two humans allowed down there. The other one was the veterinarian from Castle Blanc, who, to everyone¡¯s surprise, had come to the keep, too.


    ¡°First werewolf cubs on Loegrion soil in who knows how long,¡± he had said. ¡°And I¡¯m the only veterinary with any experience on werewolves. I have to be here.¡±


    It could happen any time now. It couldn¡¯t happen fast enough, Lane thought, while on the other hand, she kept hoping that it wouldn¡¯t happen before the attack. Morgulon was growing weaker with every new moon, and she had started losing weight again, too. If the cubs were born before the Valoise landed at the coast, Lane wasn¡¯t sure if she would be able to defend the soldiers against the influence of the Rot.


    ¡°Five silvers say the cubs will be born on new moon night,¡± Nathan pulled Lane out of her musing.


    ¡°Not taking that bet,¡± Andrew said.


    David looked up into the sky as if praying for patience. ¡°You do realize that Morgulon might not survive this, right?¡± he asked.


    Nathan shrugged, unrepentant. ¡°A little bet isn¡¯t going to make her worse.¡± He looked at Andrew. ¡°Two to one odds?¡±


    Andrew shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not stupid, Nathan. You¡¯re not the only one who noticed that there¡¯s a bit of a theme going on here with full and new moon.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± Nathan said.


    Lane had to admit that it hadn¡¯t occurred to her that Morgulon might give birth exactly as the Valoise landed. ¡°Do you think that would make the Rot worse or less bad?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering about that, too,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Any other birth, we¡¯d be all dead. But a werewolf birth? Who knows?¡±


    They¡¯d find out the night after tomorrow. Provided Nathan was right, but Lane agreed that he probably was.

 Chapter 67

    In the last hour of twilights, the defenders watched from the walls of Oldstone Castle as the white sails of the Valoisian fleet draw near. It wasn¡¯t a large fleet ¨C the four ships couldn¡¯t carry more than a few hundred soldiers. Not that they needed to.


    Lane watched the keep¡¯s Captain step onto the walls with the duke and David by his side. The Captain had a spyglass and stared at the fleet for a good long moment before he passed it on to Duke George Louis.


    ¡°The High Inquisitor himself is gracing us with his presence,¡± he said and spat onto the ground.


    ¡°True,¡± George Louis confirmed calmly and handed the glass back. ¡°But hardly surprising. ¡°We¡¯ll feed his bones to the fish. No funeral pyre for him.¡±


    He hadn¡¯t spoken very loudly, but still, Lane could hear the words ¡°the High Inquisitor¡± and ¡°feed his bones to the fish!¡± repeated over and over again. There was a cheer from the crews of soldiers manning the cannons.


    A part of her couldn¡¯t help but shudder at that threat. What an insult! To toss a body into the sea like it was so much garbage, to trap a soul amongst the waves, unable to ever fly up to Mithras with the smoke...


    ¡°He¡¯ll make one ugly sea monster,¡± David said dryly, causing those soldiers who could hear him to laugh. Nervous as they all were, the men would probably laugh at just about anything, Lane thought.


    ¡°Nah,¡± George Louis said. ¡°We¡¯ll grind up his bones first. I¡¯ve got no intention of fighting the bastard twice.¡±


    That earned another cheer, and Lane thought she could feel the tense mood on the walls lift a little. Seeing the duke, and seeing him joke with David, seemed to give the men courage in the face of what was to come.


    ¡°All cannons ready,¡± reported an officer.


    ¡°Very good,¡± George Louis said.


    Every man on the walls, and every werewolf, too, was staring at the ships as they sailed in a large arc towards the beach, staying out of reach of the wall¡¯s cannons. Lane had no spyglass of her own, but in the deadly quiet all around, she could hear the clinking of the anchor chains as the flagship of the small fleet, a ship-of-the-line with probably a hundred guns, reached the coast. The three frigates following it did the same. Lane could just make out the movement as the Valoise let the longboats into the water.


    ¡°Light the fires, and keep them burning,¡± Duke George Louis ordered, as soon as the first Valoise stepped onto the beach, still out of reach from the cannons.


    The order was relayed quickly, and soon the parapet burned with a solid ring of fire. The glow made it impossible to see what else was happening down in the shadows of the beach.


    Lane didn¡¯t need to see, though. The first longboat would likely hold nothing but soldiers, but on the second and third and all the following, there would be priests. Mage priests and their sacrifices. They couldn¡¯t raise the Rot from the salt-soaked shores of the ocean, so they would be heading inland, away from the beaches.


    Nothing seemed to happen for a small eternity. All Lane could hear was the crackling fires, the soft fizzle of the flying embers. In the breathless silence, the shriek in the distance of the first human sacrifice was impossible to overhear, and a few seconds later, Lane could feel something, as if the wall underneath her feet wobbled.


    The wall was fine, of course. It was the Rot that had her and the soldiers stagger.


    Not the werewolves, though. There was one of them standing between the regular troops every few yards, nervously eying the flames that were supposed to protect them. Most of the werewolves were barely five full moons old, and some even younger. Duke George Louis and the Captain of the keep stood between Calder and Bernadette, though. Lane was close enough that she could see the lines of worry on both of the elders¡¯ faces.


    Lane wasn¡¯t sure if they were worried about the Rot, or the fires, or the silver helmets all the men around were wearing.


    David hadn¡¯t put on his cap yet. He was circling around the whole castle, talking to the soldiers and werewolves alike. It was still an uneasy alliance, but it visibly helped that David knew so many of the werewolves by name.


    Another scream echoed in the distance and abruptly cut off. Again, Lane felt herself stagger.


    ¡°Hold fast,¡± George Louis said calmly. ¡°They have already wasted their first hour of darkness.¡±


    One down, eleven to go, Lane thought. And there was no telling if the daylight would even help them. It certainly hadn¡¯t deterred the Rot when d¡¯Evier raised it at Deva.


    ¡°Movement!¡± came the call from the side of the castle where the Valoise had made land, followed quickly by the order of ¡°Cannons! Fire!¡±


    The werewolves all jumped when the cannons on the western side barked. Lane couldn¡¯t stop herself, she walked over. In the distance, she could see the bright flames of alchemical fire.


    Next to her, the cannons roared again, and at the impact of the second round, Lane saw movement down there: Two Rot-creatures had been hit. They continued moving towards the fortifications, but the incendiary stuff from the cannons was sticking to them, and they both faltered before they reached the walls.


    The cannon crews reloaded quickly.


    ¡°Aim at the biggest monsters only,¡± their officer ordered, when a host of the smaller creepers raced around the fallen creatures, easily enough to overwhelm the defenders if it hadn¡¯t been for the werewolves.


    Lane wasn¡¯t the only one who glanced nervously to the closest one. Yellow eyes reflected the flames. David had called the youth Alvin. He had his fingers wrapped in a death-grip around the iron-tipped spear he had been given. Some werewolves had even accepted silver-coated arms, to better fight the Rot.


    ¡°Here they come,¡± a soldier muttered.


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    Despite the silver, something had scaled the wall. Lane watched Alvin gulp, but then David called: ¡°Werewolves, ready!¡± and the boy stepped forwards, despite the flames burning all around the wall, to help repel the attacking Rot-creatures.


    Lane was very glad about her ugly winter cap when the first of the creepers came across the balustrade. They mostly ignored her, though, fully focused on the werewolves. Quite a few of them had never fought the Rot before, and Lane saw Alvin freeze, just for a second, yet long enough for the ugly thing in front of him to rake his arms with its claws. Alvin screamed and gored it with his spear, then swung the stick around to roast the Rot creature on the nearest flame like a sausage on a stick.


    The screams of the Rot all around were deafening.


    Soldiers nearby cheered at the sight of Alvin killing his first monster but were quickly called to order by their sergeants.


    When the cannons fired again, alighting another one of the bigger creatures still down on the slope leading to the keep, Lane thought for a second that maybe all this wouldn¡¯t be too bad. So, of course, at that moment the first human sacrifice came into view: A tree ¨C an old tree, its trunk too wide for three men to reach around, and high enough that it wouldn¡¯t need to bother with scaling the walls. If it reached them, it would be able to pick soldiers from the parapets like ripe cherries.


    The stink hit Lane even a second before the sickness, a sickly, sweet smell like tree-sap, with an undercurrent of rotten meat. And then she couldn¡¯t breathe at all anymore, couldn¡¯t bring her muscles to move her ribcage. Lane was certain she could even feel her heart slow down and falter.


    But she could still, somehow, hear Morgulon howl in the depth of the castle¡¯s cellars, the sound carrying a power even stronger than the Rot.


    Alvin screamed in answer, and so did both werewolves and soldiers all around the keep.


    ¡°Cannons!¡±


    George Louis¡¯s orders were loud enough to overpower all the other noises.


    ¡°Take that thing down! Don¡¯t let it reach the walls!¡±


    Lane wondered how much of the burning ammunition they had when the cannons all along this side of the wall started firing again. Two, three, four, five balls of fire hit the moving tree, and at least as many shots missed.


    ¡°Hold!¡± yelled an officer.


    Next to Lane, the soldier responsible for lighting the fuse kept his slow match wick less than a hand¡¯s width away from the line, eyes fixed on his officer, who was glaring at the towering shadow of the burning Rot monster, despite the way it made his eyes water. Lane could barely look at the thing, and she wondered if it was possible to go permanently blind from staring at the Rot too long.


    Nothing moved on the walls, while down on the ground, the Rot tree burned and roared and trampled over smaller creatures with its huge roots, until the officer yelled: ¡°That did it, boys!¡±


    Of course, this had only been the first of the human sacrifices. At least one more was on the way, and while Lane was still staring at the burning tree, she could feel one, then two, then a third one follow. How many people would the priests murder tonight?


    The thought was wiped from Lane¡¯s mind when she felt the world heave once more, but in an entirely different way than when the victims of the priests had died: This time she felt it mostly in the pit of her stomach as if someone had punched her. It hurt, and it felt great at the same time, and there was a new energy in her that made her fingers shake as if she had drunk way too much coffee. All the werewolves were affected, too, some more, some less. Alvin looked around wild-eyed and exited, but over where Duke George Louis was standing, Bernadette and Calder were on the ground, writhing as if in agony. Lane didn¡¯t understand what was going on until she heard a soldier¡¯s terrified scream of: ¡°Werewolf! Werewolf!¡±


    David raced past Lane, and she followed him a little slower, still dazed and overwhelmed.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she heard David call to the soldiers, pushing one of them, who had pulled out his sidearm, away from where Dale was laying on the ground, half transformed. ¡°This is good, it¡¯s all good! The Morgulon is giving birth. It¡¯s giving the older werewolves the power to transform!¡±


    Lane looked around, and true enough, Fenn was already getting to his four feet. Calder followed a minute later, and then Bernadette got up, too. Dale was the last to finish the transformation. He was breathing hard when he staggered onto his paws. After a few pounding breaths, he threw his head back and howled, and the other three elders joined in.


    Lane and David grinned at each other. ¡°That should give them something to think about,¡± David said.


    George Louis had already sent Bernadette to guard a different part of the castle walls so that each of the four sides had one elder werewolf amongst the defenders.


    Lane, however, raced down the stairs that led down into the main courtyard, through the gates of the keep, and deeper down, until she reached the cell at the very end of the hall, where Morgulon had made her new den in the straw. Lane stopped and stared.


    Dr. Barnett, the veterinarian, was kneeling right next to the she-wolf, just placing the first baby right next to her belly.


    ¡°Looks like a healthy little boy to me,¡± he informed Morgulon, who wined softly.


    Lane hesitated suddenly. It looked like Morgulon was already in good hands, but the doctor waved her forwards.


    ¡°Sit down with her, you can rub her back. Tell us how it¡¯s going up there. I take it the walls still stand?¡±


    Lane nodded and sat down obediently, scratching the back of Morgulon¡¯s head. Down here, she couldn¡¯t even hear the cannons roar, only Morgulon¡¯s soft moans, and the first-born, who was suckling eagerly. Lane needed a few minutes to adjust to the warmth down here, the quiet and the calm.


    ¡°The walls are still standing,¡± she said finally. ¡°The four elder werewolves up there just transformed, probably right as the first ¨C child ¨C was born.¡±


    She stumbled over the word. She had expected cubs, but that was stupid, wasn¡¯t it? It was new moon after all.


    ¡°Do you think ¨C do you think the unborn children transformed inside of her?¡± Lane asked.


    The doctor shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m fairly positive that they didn¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°My supposition is that as long as they remain in the womb, they only transform when she does. As soon as they take their first breath, though, they turn human. I think ¨C ah yes. You¡¯re about to see with your own eyes.¡±


    Lane had seen a lot of horses being born, and a few hunting dogs, too, and of course cows and sheep and pigs were bred everywhere in the heartlands. A noblewoman needed to know about that, even if it wasn¡¯t generally talked about in polite company. She had witnessed a human woman give birth once, too. But this was easily the strangest nativity Lane had ever watched.


    Morgulon herself wasn¡¯t acting much different than any other bitch Lane had ever owned, but watching the second cub get caught up in the umbilical cord and turn into a baby before she was fully out of the womb was just plain bizarre. It made Lane very glad that the doctor was there.


    ¡°At least they are born without teeth,¡± he said, as he gently, little by little, untangled the foot and eased the tiny baby girl out of the birth channel. ¡°I was worried that I would have to wear my thick leather gloves or risk getting bitten.¡±


    When the child was finally out and the umbilical cord cut and the girl took her first breath and started to wail, Lane once again felt the power that, this close, seemed to shake the whole world.


    She tried to remember what it had felt like when Risha, the scullery maid, had gone into labour a month early, way too early for her to have gone to one of the safe cities already. The child had been born in the kitchen of Wardshire house, all the windows boarded up and all the fireplaces burning as hot as wood would burn. Had she felt the same power then?


    But back then, Lane had been far too terrified for the whole household to feel much else.


    The doctor offered the little girl to Morgulon, who washed her with her tongue, and then sat down on a tiny wooden stool, resting with his back against the plain stone wall of the cell.


    ¡°That¡¯s the first two,¡± he noted. ¡°If I¡¯m not much mistaken, there should be five.¡±


    Nothing happened, though, for what felt like forever, and Lane was too restless to just sit around and wait.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back,¡± she promised, when Barnett glared at her for pacing up and down the corridor in front of the cell. She ran a hand over Morgulon¡¯s head again before she climbed the stairs out of the cellars.

 Chapter 68

    As soon as Lane stood in the courtyard, it felt like she had reached a completely different place. Despite the fact that the doors to the keep stood open, to allow soldiers to faster reach the stockpiles of cannonballs and other projectiles, Lane hadn¡¯t been able to smell the Rot at all inside. Out on the yard, though, the stink was almost suffocating, and she stumbled rather than walked up the stairs of the walls.


    She could hear David¡¯s voice on the western parapet, where the Rot was coming at the castle in scores. Two of the elders were fighting by his side. Lane couldn¡¯t tell who it was with all the soldiers and younger werewolves running around them.


    ¡°How¡¯s Morgulon?¡± David asked with a grunt once she made it through to him, and impaled one of the smaller Rot-monsters on his own, silver-coated spear. A soldier with a torch set it on fire, now that it couldn¡¯t scuttle away.


    Lane gaped. She had never seen humans fight the Rot, not in close combat like this.


    ¡°Like it?¡± David asked. ¡°Grab a spear or a torch, we can always use more hands.¡±


    Lane nodded slowly and shook herself. ¡°Right, torch,¡± she managed, and one was promptly shoved into her hands. Soldiers were walking around with big baskets, making sure the men fighting didn¡¯t run out.


    ¡°How¡¯s Morgulon?¡± David asked again, while pushing a creature over the balustrade before it could get to them.


    ¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± Lane said. ¡°Two of the young ones are born.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I think we all felt that,¡± David said. ¡°They¡¯re all right?¡±


    Lane nodded before she realized that he couldn¡¯t spare any attention to look towards her. ¡°The second one turned before she was fully out, but the doctor handled it. They¡¯re both fine.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear that something is working out,¡± David grumbled.


    He was splattered in blood and plant sap and some other gore, the residue the dying Rot creatures left behind. Lane noticed one squad of soldiers being circled out, send down into the courtyard where they could catch their breath, and drink some water, while a different group took their position. David didn¡¯t look like he had taken any rest yet.


    Neither did his brothers. Mia stood between Nathan and Andrew, who did their best to try to stop the Rot that came at the young woman with a vengeance. David was standing next to Alvin, protecting him in the same way.


    Lane shuddered, trying to focus, and swung her torch around when the next ugly not-dead piece of rotten meat crawled over the edge. She could see bones but had no idea what animal it might have once been. It managed to avoid her torch, but not the spear of a soldier, and once it was pinned down, Lane set fire to the creature.


    She just wanted to turn to the next one when someone put a hand on her shoulder. She almost elbowed the guy in the chest.


    ¡°His Highness wishes to speak to you, milady!¡±


    Lane blinked surprised at the messenger, but nodded and handed her torch over.


    The large clock in the war room of Oldstone''s keep said that midnight had just passed when Lane entered. George Louis and the Captain were both looking at reports.


    ¡°How is Morgulon?¡± George Louis asked, as soon as Lane stepped in.


    ¡°She¡¯s ¨C she was fine when I left,¡± Lane said. ¡°The first two children were, too.¡±


    ¡°Let me know if that changes,¡± George Louis said, and Lane could tell that that was all he had wanted to know and she was already dismissed again. She walked closer to the large table, anyway. Most of the papers seemed to list supplies, but one sheet also listed the wounded ¨C as tally marks only.


    ¡°It¡¯s not too bad. Yet.¡± George Louis had noticed what she was looking at. ¡°But it¡¯s only the little creepers right now, and some of the middle-sized creatures. Every now and then we can feel them killing another human sacrifice, but there has been no sign of them since the first two went down. They¡¯re probably hoping we¡¯ll deplete our stocks of the burning cannonballs before they send them in.¡±


    ¡°Are we?¡±


    George Louis sniffed. ¡°You think I¡¯m that stupid? You¡¯ve been up on the walls, the men have firm orders only to use the cannons against the sacrifices. It¡¯s nearly all close combat right now. I don¡¯t think the High Inquisitor realized that the werewolves would be able to fight the Rot even while they look human, and he certainly didn¡¯t expect some of them to transform on new moon night. It also helps that the Rot is fully focused on them. They can take more of a beating than regular soldiers can, and it makes the Rot more predictable, too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised the little creatures are attacking us at all,¡± Lane said. ¡°Four elder ones should be more than enough to keep them away.¡±


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    ¡°Must be part of the Valoisian magic then.¡±


    Lane nodded and hesitated. She didn¡¯t want to go back to the fighting ¨C no one in their right mind would ¨C but she couldn¡¯t imagine sitting here with Duke George Louis, just waiting for the next report to come in. And if she went down into the cells again, she would only disturb Morgulon.


    So after a moment of hesitation, Lane braced herself and returned to the battle outside. She grabbed a torch from one of the soldiers with the baskets and made her way around the castle until she found the place where David was still in the thick of the fighting. When Lane leaned forward to maybe see what was going on outside the castle, all she could see was a heap of smouldering Rot-creatures down at the base of the walls, and a little further away, the still-burning husks of the two human sacrifices.


    ¡°Brutes coming up!¡± yelled someone close-by, and Lane was pushed aside as soldiers grabbed the waiting buckets of oil and poured them over the banister. Other soldiers held their torches to the flowing liquid, and for a few seconds, Lane could hear nothing but the roar of the burning Rot.


    ¡°Brute,¡± was apparently the new word for the mid-sized monsters, like the one Greg had fought last fall.


    ¡°Oil is at half-empty,¡± reported one of the men who ran to replace the empty buckets with full ones.


    Lane saw David grimace at the words. As far as she knew, he had no official command post, but all the soldiers and werewolves were looking to him anyway.


    ¡°Half empty is fine,¡± he said after a second. ¡°The night is half over, too.¡±


    Did David realize that they still had to face the much worse monsters brought forth by human death?


    But of course, he knew. They all felt it when another throat was cut, or however the priests did it. Was he hoping for sunrise? But if even the little creepers weren¡¯t deterred by the four elder werewolves on the walls, daylight wouldn¡¯t do much to stop the biggest Rot creatures, would it?


    She really wanted to ask David if there was something she was missing, or if he was just trying to give the rank and file some hope that they could hold out long enough, but there was no way to speak to him, or even get near to him. So instead, Lane teamed up with Jody and did her best to keep the creepers off the werewolf.


    They could all feel it when the next werewolf was born, and then the other two followed quickly. Lane considered going back down to have a look, but then decided against it. No one else could just walk away from the fight, and just because she was a woman and the soldiers probably expected her to run away at some point didn¡¯t mean that she should. So instead she stayed, and shoved the little creepers back down onto the heap of gleaming, smoking husks, poured oil onto the bigger brutes, and set everything on fire that tried to crawl onto the parapet. They raked at her and bit her, but with the werewolves mostly offsetting the corrupted magical aura, it was more like tedious and exhausting menial labour than a fight.


    At two o¡¯clock in the morning, the order came for the werewolves fighting to stand down and get some rest. Only when Fleur approached to take Jody¡¯s place on the wall, and Dale and Bernadette came to replace Fenn and Calder, did Lane realize that they had been fighting at half strength to defend the keep. They still had some reserves.


    When David handed over his spear, Lane decided to follow his example.


    ¡°They¡¯re weaker,¡± she pointed out in a low voice. ¡°Bernadette and Dale, I mean.¡±


    David nodded. ¡°They¡¯ll be fine as long as it¡¯s just the creepers and some brutes,¡± he yawned. ¡°Go get some rest, everyone!¡± he added, louder. ¡°Eat something, and then go, sleep as much as you can. This isn¡¯t over yet.¡±


    Lane inhaled deeply as soon as she entered the keep. Morgulon¡¯s presence was still keeping out the stink.


    Alvin had stopped in his tracks and blinked owlishly, taking deep breaths. Nathan gently had to push the kid forward, so he wouldn¡¯t block the door. ¡°Food, Alvin,¡± he said.


    Alvin didn¡¯t seem to have heard him, but he moved. He looked even worse than the soldiers: His shirt was almost entirely gone, ripped to shreds, and his chest and arms were covered in hundreds, if not thousands of cuts. George Louis had said that the Rot was focused on the werewolves, and Lane had seen it with Jody, but she hadn¡¯t realized just how much of the heat they were drawing away from everybody else.


    How much blood loss could they take? And was there any point in bandaging them up?


    When Nathan stopped pushing, Alvin walked a couple of more steps, and then just stood around again, so David directed him over towards the table where soldiers were already flocking. Lane followed Nathan to get some food and took one of the three bowls he tried to balance before he could drop it.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Nathan said.


    They all ate in silence. More than one soldier and werewolf fell asleep right at the long tables. Fighting the Rot was still far more draining, especially mentally, than it should have been.


    ¡°You going to check on Morgulon?¡± David asked.


    Lane nodded.


    ¡°Good. Let me know how she is. Wake me up if necessary.¡±


    Lane nodded again, too tired for many words.


    When she went down into the basement, Morgulon was fast asleep, too. She was still a wolf, which was both a surprise and a relief to Lane.


    ¡°How are the babies?¡± Lane asked Dr. Barnett, who had woken from his doze when she walked in. Morgulon had curled up around them, and she didn¡¯t want to disturb her to have a look.


    ¡°Well, human babies aren¡¯t my specialty,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I can¡¯t see anything wrong with them. Your fianc¨¦ will be interested to see two of them.¡±


    Lane groaned, but then she just had to bend over Morgulon¡¯s back to have a look. And sure enough, she spotted a tiny, brown foot at the one end of the heap, and a head full of curly black down on the other.


    Lane straightened up again and then just stood there for a minute, wondering if she should tell David right away. But then she shook her head to herself. He needed to rest as much as he could, and she was fairly certain that he wouldn¡¯t, if he knew that Greg was a father. There would be time to figure out how to handle this later.


    Was there any way to figure out who the fathers of the other children were?


    But that, too, would have to wait, if there even was a way. She climbed the stairs again, up to where the soldiers were resting on simple blankets on the stone floor. They were all tired enough not to care. She found David, who had apparently saved her a spot, and stretched out next to him, not even bothering to take off her boots.


    She was just wondering if she really should wake him when he muttered: ¡°Everything all right?¡±


    ¡°Morgulon is fine. Still wolf, fast asleep,¡± Lane reported.


    ¡°Good.¡± David never opened his eyes. A moment later, his breathing evened out. Lane let her head fall to the side and went to sleep, too.

 Chapter 69

    Greg¡¯s muscles protested when he struggled to follow Thoko. He was starting to detest new moon almost as much as full moon. He felt tired down to his bones, and they had been walking for barely an hour. True, all their rests had been short, ever since they had left the mountains, but still. Any other day of the month he would have made it further before starting to flag.


    The only good thing was that they should reach Eoforwic this night, and hopefully, they¡¯d be allowed to use the railway to get to the coast fast.


    He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that they were already too late.


    His worst fears were confirmed when he walked into the company headquarters. Despite the fact that he showed up at three in the morning, there was a clerk waiting in the large main hall, someone who looked terribly excited to see him. Greg would have preferred to be treated like a stray dog over the look of relief on the clerk¡¯s face.


    ¡°You need to keep going,¡± the man said. ¡°The Valoise landed a few hours ago just west of Oldstone Castle. You need to hurry to get across the Savre and get on the train to Breachpoint.¡±


    ¡°The line to Breachpoint is finished?¡± Greg asked, confused. He¡¯d planned to take the line to Deva, and from there to Deggan.


    And where the hell was Oldstone Castle?


    ¡°No, no, the bridge isn¡¯t done yet. You need to take the footbridge across and make haste for the end of the line on the other side, there¡¯ll be a carriage waiting for you, I¡¯ll send a telegram right away. You need to hurry!¡±


    Greg nodded, but he could barely turn around and walk out again. They were too late. No matter how much they hurried, they would never get to Breachpoint before sunrise, and even if they did get there ¨C what difference would it make? It was new moon.


    To his surprise, the other four werewolves didn¡¯t seem as concerned.


    ¡°The Morgulon is there,¡± Rust said. ¡°If I thought there was no way they can win, I¡¯d be turning back to the mountains right now, Greg. But you shouldn¡¯t underestimate the Morgulon. Let¡¯s keep going.¡±


    He clapped Greg on the shoulder, and Greg stumbled forwards. Only Thoko seemed to share his fears, but she didn¡¯t say anything. So they kept walking, out of the New Quarter, towards the harbour of Eoforwic and over the bridge that crossed the Savre. The Alchemy the company had used on the eastern shore to drive away the Rot made his eyes water and his nose burn, and Ragna lengthened her strides until they had left that smell far behind.


    ¡°Must be some kind of silver salt,¡± Neville muttered to himself.


    ¡°Disgusting,¡± Rust said. ¡°I thought you said all the work was done by werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Most of the work,¡± Greg amended. ¡°The work on this bridge started before the company knew what we can do.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not going to have to travel on a railway carriage that was treated in this way, are we?¡± Ragna asked.


    Greg shook his head quickly. ¡°They don¡¯t treat the carriages at all, as far as I know,¡± he said. ¡°I think it¡¯s not needed, not with the fire in the engine? I never thought about it. But no, no alchemy. At least, I never noticed any. Did you ever notice any, Thoko?¡±


    He was babbling, grateful for anything to think about other than what might be happening just outside Breachpoint right now.


    But there was the thought again.


    The clerk had said, before pushing him out of headquarters, that every available werewolf was at the coast right now. Greg tried to cling to that thought, but it didn¡¯t help much. Most of those werewolves were younger than him. And if Neville couldn¡¯t fight a human sacrifice, how could they?


    Except, maybe, with sheer numbers. If they had that ¨C numbers superiority...


    But the Valoise would kill men by the score. How much difference could the Morgulon make on a battlefield?


    He felt a short moment of relief when they reached the end of the line. There was, indeed, a train waiting for them, if one could even call it a train. It had two locomotives, one at each end, because there was no turntable to turn the engines around. Between them stood two carriages, one for coal, and one for them to travel in.


    Here, too, people were waiting for them. The elder werewolves were visibly hesitant to enter the waggon, but the impatient driver had them up before they could really start to argue. There was food inside for them, and some bales of straw to sit on.


    And then there was nothing to do but stare out of the narrow window and watch the landscape go by while the morning dawned, while everyone else took a rest. Hoping against hope that Morgulon could really perform miracles.


    The roar of the cannons outside woke Lane just before the corporal came sprinting into the large room, yelling something unintelligible and wildly banging a hammer against a small gong. She blinked slowly, feeling almost more tired than before she had rested. Every muscle ached when she struggled to her feet, slower than she wanted to. Her body wasn¡¯t moving as it should, and her mind was even slower.


    The smell of the swamp had made it into the keep at last, and with that realization came a wave of terror.


    ¡°This is it, gentlemen!¡± David¡¯s voice cut through the stink and the confusion, and somehow he managed to sound like he wasn¡¯t scared as shitless as everyone else. ¡°It¡¯s the human sacrifices. We kill them, we win! So move! Grab your spears, grab your torches, be ready to light them! Time to show the High Inquisitor who he¡¯s up against!¡±


    ¡°Feed his bones to the fish!¡± somebody yelled, and the battle cry echoed throughout the keep. There was no magic to it, but it still broke through whatever binds the Rot had over the soldiers inside the keep and gave them the strength and fortitude to sprint up onto the walls. They were desperately needed. The human sacrifices were coming towards the castle from all sides, towering and terrifying shadows in the morning fog. They weren¡¯t moving fast, but they didn¡¯t need to. Half the cannon crews were just cowering at their stations, or even curled up in the foetal position, unable to move.


    ¡°Lane.¡± David grabbed her shoulder. ¡°Lane, go and see if Morgulon will come up. She doesn¡¯t have to fight. She just needs to be in the courtyard, so we can.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Lane said. ¡°Right.¡±


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    She turned around again and hurried towards the cellars.


    ¡°Hurry,¡± David whispered, as he looked after her. ¡°And you too, Greg,¡± he added.


    He couldn¡¯t move. In fact, he could barely stand, barely even breathe, with the weight of the Rot¡¯s corrupted magic all around and the terror inside his bones. But people were staring at him uncertainly, scared. The men who had stormed out of the keep and onto the walls had lost their momentum. Humans and werewolves alike were looking towards him, looking for someone to lead, to give them the courage to fight the devils coming for them.


    ¡°Damn it, George,¡± David cursed, still speaking only to himself. ¡°This is your job.¡±


    But the duke was nowhere in sight. Neither was the keep¡¯s Captain.


    There were tears streaming down more than one ghostly white face.


    David wasn¡¯t sure how he did it, but he managed to straighten up, to grab a soldier frozen in his tracks and shake him till the man¡¯s gaze focused. Moving helped him, too. Moving reminded him that he was still alive, that the Rot hadn¡¯t gotten him yet, and he raised his voice once more:


    ¡°Move, people! One elder werewolf to each side! Bernadette, take the eastern wall, Dale, towards the coast! Fenn, southern wall, Calder take the west!¡±


    South and west would be worst, and sending Bernadette east meant she had to walk all along that southern parapet. Just having the elder push through the mass of paralyzed soldiers helped to shake some of them out of it.


    ¡°Move, gentlemen!¡± David repeated, walking forwards and slapping more soldiers across the back with all the force he could muster. ¡°Man your cannons!¡±


    He grabbed a spear and forced it into a werewolf¡¯s hand.


    ¡°This is the last push! Werewolves, if there ever was a moment to grab a silver spear, this is it! And why are these bloody fires extinguished? I see plenty of wood in the courtyard, get it up on the walls! Burn them back to hell! Move!¡±


    And finally, people did move. The huge, towering Rot-giants were already dangerously close, but the cannons started to roar again. It was a wonderful sound in David¡¯s ears, almost as good as the yelling of the sergeants, who had gathered their wits and were driving their men, cursing and cajoling in turns. When the heat of the rekindled fires washed over the men, it seemed to thaw more of the paralysis out of them.


    David stepped up to the balustrade, silver spear in hands, stepping from one foot onto the other. The trick was not to stop, not to let stillness set in. Half of the power of the Rot was in his mind; as long as he moved, he could hide how flatly he was breathing, and how weak his limbs still were, could ignore how sick he felt.


    Even when a young recruit next to him threw up, hardly more than a boy, he managed not to gag himself.


    ¡°Straighten up, soldier,¡± David ordered when the kid remained crouched next to him, staring at the puddle of his last meal. He held out his hand. After a few seconds, the recruit grabbed it, and David pulled him to his feet again.


    ¡°Sir?¡± the kid muttered after a moment. ¡°Sir, what if we have to last another night?¡±


    David bared his teeth at him. ¡°Another night? The nights are nothing to be afraid of anymore! New moon is over. Soon as it gets dark, we¡¯ll have an army of werewolves surrounding us!¡±


    The werewolves didn¡¯t look half as relieved at his words as the soldiers, but none of them contradicted him, so David didn¡¯t care.


    From what he was seeing, there was no way this battle would stretch into another night. Either they would kill the host of demons coming at them, and kill them quickly, or they¡¯d all be dead by noon.


    The first round of this fight was entirely in the hands of the cannoneers. The faster they could load and fire, and the more precise their aim was, the better. It was still hard to look at the huge, lumbering colossi. If one stared too long and too hard, they would start to see double, or things that weren¡¯t actually there, so the crews circled out men after every shot.


    The constant roar of the cannons everywhere was so loud it was painful in itself, but even louder were the furious bellows of the Rot-giants that got hit with the incendiaries.


    David closed his eyes. The closer the Rot came, the harder it was to keep his stomach down, to breathe. He stepped onto his other foot again, and hoped that he wouldn¡¯t freeze when the moment came. He had never been this scared in his life, this certain that his strength, his abilities wouldn¡¯t make a difference.


    How did you even fight a bloody tree? How did you kill a mountain of mud, a mountain that wasn¡¯t even alive in the first place, but still moved around? How had they been this stupid, to challenge the Empire with only werewolves on their side? Why didn¡¯t they have an army of mages raining fire at the Valoise?


    This was madness.


    They would all die here, and he couldn¡¯t even make himself run away.


    Unless. Maybe, if he could just call the retreat. If everyone else around him was running, maybe he could, too?


    David looked around in a daze. Why were the cannons still firing? What was even the point?


    Frightened men stared back at him, clearly just waiting for him to say the word, to tell them that they could run. David opened his mouth.


    A sharp bark behind him made him jump ¨C him and every other living soul in the castle. A cannon belched fire next to him, and David was sure that the man with the wick had lit the fuse entirely by accident as he jerked with surprise before whirling around to stare into the courtyard with everybody else.


    Morgulon stood there, with Lane at her side, in the middle of the wide-open place. She barked again, louder than any dog had ever barked, and David managed to shake his head. The cannon crews to either side of him had all guns blazing at the line of Rot giants.


    The huge monsters were focused on him as if they knew that he was the one they needed to break.


    If he had called the retreat a moment ago...


    Why hadn¡¯t he?


    David barely managed to clamp his teeth together and glance over his shoulder a second time.


    Morgulon was staring straight at him, just like the Rot, head tilted quizzically and regally at the same time, and he could breathe again. When he inhaled, it was a much-needed breeze of fresh air.


    David straightened up. He had given his bloody word, hadn¡¯t he? To do everything in his power to protect all the werewolves of Loegrion. Well, here they were, nearly all the werewolves of Loegrion gathered in one place, from the youngest to the oldest.


    He turned back towards the line of enemies, a hundred yards away at the most. When he raised his spear, they stepped forwards as one.


    They were burning. There wasn¡¯t a single one of them that hadn¡¯t been hit someplace, but they were big, big as giants, big like moving hills, and one hit ¨C even three hits ¨C weren¡¯t enough to slow them. Not now, that they were moving as one unbroken front of black shadows, covered by their own black fog, untouched by the morning sunlight. Like a noose around their necks, they were tightening the line.


    ¡°Ugly bastards!¡± David yelled. ¡°Spears and torches forwards! Have the last of that oil ready! Brace yourselves, gentlemen!¡±


    He wondered if they could even hear him. He could barely hear anything over the rushing of blood in his own ears. They should have axes, he thought, rather than spears, shovels perhaps. How did one fight a mountain, anyway?


    But it was too late to try and get another weapon.


    Or was it? How did one fight a mountain?


    Certainly not with spears. With shovels perhaps, and pickaxes. But the fastest ¨C the smartest way ¨C to fight a mountain was black powder, and they had that right here, for the cannons. Could they use it?


    He grabbed the officer from the nearest cannon crew by a shoulder. ¡°Gunpowder! How much is left?¡±


    ¡°Gunpowder? Plenty. We¡¯re nearly out of the burning cannonballs, though.¡±


    ¡°If we throw a barrel of gunpowder across the walls, with a burning fuse attached, how precisely can your men time the explosion?¡±


    The officer caught on at once and he bared all his teeth in a grin. ¡°Precisely enough!¡± he gave back. ¡°Permission to leave this post?¡±


    ¡°Go!¡± David said, and shoved him aside. He didn¡¯t have time to watch the man hurry away and grab two soldiers from his crew, and send the others running along the walls.


    A few cannons still roared, too, and with the giants all around, it was impossible to miss. The Rot had reached them, distorted trees and heaps of mud stretching out to grab the defenders and swallow them whole. With them came a host of the creepers and brutes, swarming the walls, met by the last of the burning oil.


    Any man caught by the giants was surely dead, but the giants weren¡¯t fast, and Morgulon was standing right behind them, and they could all move ¨C move and fight. Where the black fog met whatever power it was that Morgulon possessed, there was a shimmer in the air, and the Rot seemed confused, confused that the tiny, fleshy creatures on the walls didn¡¯t roll over and wait to die.


    David shuddered when one of the devils crashed into the wall right in front of him. It wasn¡¯t the stone that stopped the distorted tree, nor the silver it had been covered with ¨C thousands of tiny vines and roots buried into the ancient mortar, finding even the most minuscule weakness. Fenn¡¯s teeth cut through the branch it had extended to grip David. David stepped aside and swung his spear and his torch.

 Chapter 70

    In a way, fighting the Rot felt like sparring with his old master-at-arms, in that there was no way to predict where the madly swinging branches would strike next. But really, it wasn¡¯t like fighting a human at all ¨C twigs could snap at the soldiers from every direction, and vines covered the immediate surroundings of where the trunk touched the wall like tripwires. At least one unlucky soldier fell and was dragged off the parapet before he even had time to scream. David couldn¡¯t see what happened to him afterwards, and he was a little glad about that.


    Unlike the trunk and larger limbs, the smaller branches moved as fast as coiled snakes. David cursed and barely parried another thrust, which forced him to back away. Already, there was a deserted half-circle around the trunk. The silvertip of his spear was barely enough to block the next thrust, and for hurting the giant, it was entirely useless.


    David wished he had a shield instead ¨C it would have been equally useless in hurting the Rot, but better for blocking, which might have allowed him to use his torch more effectively.


    The Rot had clearly realized that the torches posed the bigger danger, too. David yelled in surprise when the next volley of spindly fingers snapped towards him, and rather than trying to gore him, they wrapped around his torch and ripped it out of his hand ¨C not just his, either. For a second, the decaying tree looked like some grotesque candelabra. The torches flared once, then guttered, and extinguished as soon as they touched the dark cloud shrouding the human sacrifices. As if they had been dropped in water.


    ¡°Shit,¡± David whispered.


    An avalanche of creepers was already scrambling over the crest onto the now almost dark section of the parapet. Fenn at his side barked sharply, a sound that quickly turned into a whinny as the tide threatened to overwhelm even the elder. David swung his spear, half-blind, and once again struggling to move at all. There was a ringing in his ears and someone was screaming ¨C it might have been him.


    There was light in the shadows, though, literal light: Calder was racing their way, and behind him came Oli, Daisy, Henry, and Marc, the latter limping as fast as his bad leg allowed and swinging a torch in each hand. He was bringing up the rear, David realized, Calder the front, while the other three kids were handing out new torches from the baskets they carried as fast as they could.


    ¡°The Morgulon¡¯s taken to the western wall!¡± Marc screamed, face white and terrified and gleeful. ¡°Lady deLande said to tell you!¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± David gave back. ¡°Find a supply officer and ask for axes! Bring them here, if there are any! Shields, too!¡±


    He was glad to see the kids weren¡¯t actively fighting. He should never have told George Louis to drag them into this mess, but it was too late for that.


    ¡°Rally to the wolves!¡± he yelled, hoping that the soldiers could even hear him.


    He glanced after the kids, to make sure they would get off the walls all right. The Rot used his distraction, and a whip-fast bramble stabbed a man right next to him, backhanding David across the chest hard enough that he almost tumbled down into the courtyard. He hit his head, too. Before he could stagger back onto his feet, vines wrapped around his arms and dragged him towards the closest Rot-tree. Long thorns pierced his leather jacket.


    The pull on his limbs abruptly cut off, and someone grabbed him by the collar instead, dragging him to his feet.


    ¡°No sleeping on the job, old man!¡± Nathan yelled at him. He had neither a torch nor a spear, but instead a long, mean-looking cutlass with a serrated edge like a saw. He swatted the next volley of twigs down, somehow managed to step on them, and cut them off, as if he had done so all his life.


    ¡°Focus, brother!¡± he yelled when he noticed David¡¯s staring. ¡°This ugly bastard really needs a hair-cut!¡±


    David nodded and blocked a bramble-vine, which was reaching to trip up Nathan, with his torch. If they didn¡¯t get some explosives fast, a haircut was all the harm they would inflict on the monster in front of them. For the moment, it looked like they were at least holding their own, but werewolves and humans would tire. The Rot did not.


    He was so focused on the fight, he almost burned Marc, who had snuck up on him.


    ¡°Axes!¡± the kid screamed excitedly.


    David cursed and shouldered him out of the way of a larger branch. The Rot had to be able to smell the werewolves, or something.


    ¡°Good job,¡± he gasped. ¡°Now get clear!¡±


    Somebody grabbed the axe Marc was offering. David spun around and saw Alvin, who hefted the tool nervously. The kid walked right to the edge of the deserted half circle around the place where the tree touched the walls. Before David could figure out what he planned, the young werewolf charged forwards, right at the huge trunk.


    ¡°That crazy ¨C¡°


    David didn¡¯t get any further, because Nathan had already jumped after the kid, right into the most deadly thicket of branches. David cursed and ran in after them.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t generals supposed to stay somewhere safe?¡±


    Nathan had the gall to grin at him as he slashed with his cutlass in wild arcs to protect himself and Alvin, who was already taking the axe to the trunk.


    David dropped his spear, which was useless in this jungle, and pulled his silver knife instead. He wished it was longer.


    ¡°I¡¯ve kept you alive for nearly a decade hunting werewolves! You really think I¡¯ll let all that effort go to waste just because the Rot¡¯s growing a little big this year?¡±


    He should have known better than to try and banter during a fight. As a reward, he was nearly knocked over by a branch, thick as his arm, that swept the parapet and smashed into his shins. He buried his knife in it and brought the torch down, too. The branch squirmed and tried to retreat.


    Behind him and Nathan, Alvin swung his axe with all his might, ignoring the danger surrounding him. On his third swing, the whole wall shook.


    Yeah, the bloody thing had felt that, finally. David smiled grimly. Now Alvin just needed to do it another thousand times.


    They should have a crew of navvies here, those guys were good at taking down trees.


    ¡°Fire in the hole!¡±


    Or they could do that. David ducked instinctively at the call, wondering where exactly the explosives had been placed. Not too close to the walls, right? The cannon crews surely knew what they were doing? Right?


    He had maybe two seconds to worry about it after the warning and to cover his ears, and then multiple explosions shook the Rot-monster.


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    They weren¡¯t as big as David had expected and they didn¡¯t hurt the Rot as much as he had hoped. Rather, they didn¡¯t kill the giants ¨C one huge branch came crashing down in front of Alvin, and the tree actually backed away from the castle.


    A group of soldiers pressed forwards, to bombard the ugly devils with a flurry of hastily assembled grenades. Mostly bottles, as far as David could see, filled with black powder and closed with a stopper with a rudimentary fuse.


    If they ever had to repeat this, they¡¯d need to prepare with several rings of larger bombs at strategic places, far away from the actual fortifications...


    But they first had to do it once before they could make plans for a second time. The Rot-giants recovered quite quickly, their strikes even more vicious now that they had been hurt. But they were losing, little by little. Every time an explosion damaged one of them, there were at least a dozen men with axes ready to rush in and cut them down further. The long cutlasses worked well, too, especially when wielded by a werewolf.


    Maybe that was why the Rot was so desperate to kill them.


    David saw the single, lightning-fast strike from out of the shadows that still surrounded the treetop of the nearest monster, saw it racing towards Alvin with his axe. He turned to yell a warning but knew he would be too slow.


    Nathan wasn¡¯t, the bastard.


    David could only stand there and watch as his brother shouldered the young werewolf out of the way a fraction of a second before the Rot struck, missing the boy and instead piercing Nathan¡¯s chest like a needle going through silk. Alvin barely managed to wrap his arms around him before Nathan toppled over the edge and broke his neck. The young werewolf let him down gently, looking around with a dazed expression. David hurried over and kneeled down next to him, pressing a hand onto the ugly wound. At once, blood started leaking out from under his fingers.


    And the Rot was still attacking them.


    David grabbed Nathan¡¯s cutlass and caught the next bramble on the steel, slashing madly with his silver knife. When the Rot finally gave him time to look back towards Nathan, Andrew had already slung him over his shoulders.


    ¡°You stay here,¡± Andrew yelled. ¡°Finish this. I¡¯ve got him!¡±


    David nodded silently. He wanted to run after them, but Andrew was right: They needed to finish this, even if the Rot was nearly defeated.


    Morgulon on her own had cleared half of the southern wall, by the looks of it. Finally, the line was too stretched and at noon, with the sun standing highest, the strange mire surrounding the sacrifices finally vanished. The last remaining human sacrifices and what remained of the swarm of smaller shapes turned tail.


    David looked around in a daze when the last of the fog lifted. In the sunlight, the carnage looked unreal somehow. Some soldiers cheered, but most of them just stood there, looking as lost as David felt.


    There wasn¡¯t a single man on the walls uninjured. David stumbled around until he found Alvin again, who was helping carry a badly wounded Bernadette inside, still in her wolf form. David wanted to go with them, to make sure that they were treated like the other soldiers, she and the rest of the werewolves, but before he made it to the keep, somebody called his name.


    ¡°Lord Feleke.¡±


    George Louis stood behind him, leading a horse.


    ¡°What?¡± David hissed.


    ¡°A commendable effort,¡± the duke said. ¡°I¡¯m sure the werewolf will be fine. There is still urgent business left. Mount up. The High Inquisitor is making a break for the shore.¡±


    David closed his eyes. He considered punching George Louis, but he knew from experience that it wouldn¡¯t help, so after a second, he accepted the reins of his gelding from the stable boy who was staring wide-eyed at Bernadette, who had been skewered at least a half dozen times and was still, somehow, alive.


    Fifty soldiers on horseback ¨C all the cavalry they had ¨C and Calder followed the duke out of the gate. David hoped that the one elder would be enough, as they raced towards where the Valoise had left their longboats.


    ¡°See if they¡¯ll burn. If not, push them into the water,¡± George Louis ordered his soldiers, as soon as they got there. ¡°Be quick.¡±


    Calder backed away a good ten yards at those words, which surprised David after the werewolf had spent the whole night and a half day fighting right next to the flames.


    The soldiers decided that both was better than one, setting fire to the boats and then pushing them into the waves before the flames got too big. Calder muscled the one that wouldn¡¯t take fire a good twenty yards out, where the ground abruptly dropped. David blinked tiredly against the glare of the sun on the waves.


    His sense of time was completely shot. How was it noon already? They¡¯d fought in the darkness for hours, how was the light suddenly this bright?


    Just as Calder came swimming back, one of the soldiers who were holding the horses of the men torching the boats, started shouting a warning.


    The High Inquisitor had come into view from out of the trees. He still had soldiers with him, more than the duke¡¯s troop had, but they were all on foot.


    ¡°Calder, stay back. Don¡¯t fight, unless they somehow bring the Rot forward,¡± George Louis ordered calmly. ¡°The rest of you, get back in the saddle and spread out. Be ready for anything, this snake is still venomous.¡±


    The riders had just gotten into a line, quite stretched out, as the duke had ordered, when the Valoisian soldiers stopped and began shooting, and the foremost one of the priests raised his hands.


    David cursed. He didn¡¯t even hear George Louis¡¯s order to charge; he was already driving his gelding forward, into the first salve of bullets, when it started raining fire. Why were they fighting priests of the sun in broad daylight? He¡¯d have to ask George about that later.


    Maybe he¡¯d have to start praying to the moon, David thought, as he pulled the sword George Louis had gifted him from its scabbard. That was probably just as pointless as praying to Mithras, though, and where did that thought even come from?


    He felt strangely detached from the whole fight as his gelding trampled the first soldier, who was desperately trying to reload, and ran another through with his sword. The rest of the cavalry was right behind him.


    Should he have waited for George Louis¡¯s order to charge? Not that it mattered now. Eighty men on foot didn¡¯t stand a chance against fifty men on horseback, not even with two dozen priests in their back. Priests were useless in close combat.


    Another soldier tried to bar his way as David slowed and turned his gelding, looking for the High Inquisitor. David stabbed him, too. He hardly heard the screaming. When he looked around, he saw everything as if through thick glass ¨C it was still raining fire, but the flames looked blurry, just like the men running all around, riderless horses, screaming priests ¨C none of it seemed real. All the sounds were somehow muffled as if there was wool in his ears. Further away, Calder was in the water, David noticed. George Louis had retreated up a dune, just a few hundred yards, but he might as well have been a million miles away.


    There was d¡¯Evier. The High Inquisitor pointed at him when David spurred his horse, and a globe of fire shot at his face like the bullet from a gun. David felt it sear his back when he ducked underneath, but the pain was distant, too, just like everything else.


    D¡¯Evier screamed something at him, waving his hands. David couldn¡¯t tell if it was some kind of incantation, a curse, or just the screaming of a man who was starting to realize that he would die in a moment, and he didn¡¯t intend to wait and find out.


    There should have been fanfares, music, choirs of angels singing. There should have been something other than the wet sound of steel meeting flesh when he impaled the greatest enemy of Loegrion on his sword. But all there was, was the sound of horses snorting and the wounded screaming, the blood rushing in his ears, and the wind blowing in from the sea.


    The High Inquisitor went down to his knees, staring at the hole in his chest as if he couldn¡¯t quite grasp what had happened. His jaws were still moving, and after a few seconds, he stared up at David, still with that same look of surprise. His lips curled in anger, and somehow, the priest managed to raise one hand.


    David swung his blade again, ramming it through d¡¯Evier¡¯s throat. He didn¡¯t know what the bastard might do with his dying breath, but he was sure it wouldn¡¯t be good for his own health.


    There was a sudden, strong smell of rotten eggs, which was carried away quickly by the stiff breeze coming from the ocean. David inhaled eagerly. The cold, salty air was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.


    The High Inquisitor fought to take a rattling breath, but then he fell forward, onto his face. The wet sand crunched once as he spasmed, and then, a moment later and all around, there was the softer sound of guns and knees hitting the ground as even the remaining Uronian guard surrendered.


    David¡¯s gelding bucked under him when George Louis¡¯s men started cheering, and he struggled to stay in the saddle. Wouldn¡¯t that have been just perfect, if he had fallen off his horse at that very moment.


    But he reigned in his mount and jumped out of the saddle, to wipe his blade on the silk of the High Inquisitor¡¯s robes.


    He was going to sleep for a week once this was over, he promised himself, while the soldiers started to yell his name. George Louis came riding over, too, smiling benevolently. He watched on as his men kept repeating ¡°Feleke!¡± over and over again.


    ¡°Excellent work, gentlemen,¡± George Louis finally said. ¡°We¡¯ll take the High Inquisitor¡¯s body, and our own fallen, and return to the castle. I promised d¡¯Evier a wet grave, and I intend to keep my word.¡±

 Chapter 71

    The group of werewolves reached Breachpoint an hour before noon. Greg wanted to keep going right away, but when they got there, the city gates were closed, and guards in silver helmets barred their way.


    ¡°It¡¯s not safe to leave the city,¡± one of them said. ¡°You were damn lucky your train made it, nothing else has been getting through, the Rot is out in force! Even in broad daylight!¡±


    ¡°Luck had nothing to do with it,¡± Ragna said before Greg could answer. ¡°Which is why we need to get out there right now.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s new moon!¡±


    ¡°Heartwarming, their concern,¡± Neville griped.


    It took some arguing, but they were allowed to pass in the end. Greg was about to ask Ragna what they were supposed to do now that they had left the city, but before he could say anything, the elder had started taking off her clothes. While Greg was still staring, she crouched down onto the earth and closed her eyes. Greg stared and didn¡¯t realize what she was doing until he noticed the fur sprouting all over her body.


    ¡°This is something she mastered recently,¡± Rust said, grinning at his surprise.


    Her transformation took a couple of minutes, and Greg didn¡¯t even want to think about how much it had to hurt, but finally, Ragna stood in front of them as a wolf.


    ¡°It¡¯s much easier when Pierre is around,¡± Rust said. ¡°Another mile or two, and we¡¯ll be close enough to the Morgulon that I¡¯ll be able to transform, too.¡±


    ¡°You could have mentioned that when we argued with the guards,¡± Thoko said.


    Rust shook his head. ¡°Not gonna tell something like that to a human who¡¯s wearing so much silver. Let¡¯s get moving.¡±


    Rust turned maybe half an hour later, and it wasn¡¯t a minute too soon: He had barely gotten back to his feet when a small army of Rot creatures came straight at them.


    Neville, to Greg¡¯s surprised, laughed at the sight. ¡°The old man was right after all! They¡¯re running like headless chickens! Your friends did it!¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Lenny grumbled. ¡°Running where? Breachpoint might have walls and cannons to withstand this onslaught, but there¡¯re villages in the area, too.¡±


    Greg shuddered. If his brothers were all right, certainly they would have made sure that the surviving Rot creatures posed no danger for the area?


    ¡°It¡¯ll be okay,¡± Thoko said quietly. ¡°The werewolves who fought at the battle must be tired. I¡¯m sure this group just slipped past.¡±


    Tired, or dead, Greg wondered. But he nodded, wishing with all his might that Thoko was right. Between Ragna and Rust, even the huge moving puddle of mud stood no chance, for all that it took more than an hour to die.


    Greg wanted nothing more than to get to ''Oldstone Castle'' and find his family. Lenny was right, though. There were too many people in danger as long as the Rot ran rampant in the area. Lenny¡¯s family had no protection beyond the wooden palisades of their village.


    Ragna and Rust were wary to visit an unknown village, but Lenny was insistent that he needed to make sure his children and grandchildren were safe.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯ll be no reason to actually go into the village,¡± the old man said wistfully. ¡°We just need to make sure none of these giants went their way.¡±


    Ragna and Rust turned to stare at Greg. He shrugged, and took a deep breath, but finally nodded. ¡°I guess Lenny¡¯s right,¡± he said. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t just let the Rot run wild around here. These monsters weren¡¯t even scared by the daylight.¡±


    So they followed Lenny. They did come across several more groups of larger and smaller monsters. Greg felt terribly useless while Ragna and Rust fought. All he had were makeshift torches, to keep the smaller creepers away from Thoko. Admittedly, Lenny and Neville only had sticks, since they didn¡¯t want to get that close to a flame.


    ¡°Looks like they¡¯re having fun,¡± Lenny said, disbelief colouring his voice, while they watched Ragna and Rust dance with another one of the giant Rot monsters. This one looked like a huge heap of compost that could move.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure Ragna is.¡± Neville smiled wryly. ¡°She¡¯s been waiting twenty years to find a way to get back at the Valoise in some form. Crazy woman probably can¡¯t wait for the war to begin in earnest.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it strange that she was part of Pierre¡¯s pack?¡± Thoko asked.


    Neville shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not like he¡¯s still an actual priest. And besides, he¡¯s the most powerful werewolf in the Argentum Formation. She could¡¯ve started her own pack, of course, if she had wanted to, find a territory somewhere else.¡±


    Neville glanced at Lenny, and then at Greg. ¡°You¡¯re really sure we won¡¯t get in trouble if we get seen by some villagers?¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure, yes,¡± Greg said. ¡°Especially with these giant Rot creatures around.¡±


    They still didn¡¯t try to enter the village where Lenny had once lived, even though it was obvious that Lenny really wanted to. He did stare hard at the walls from the shade of a tree, to make sure that the Rot hadn¡¯t entered, but finally, he just shook his head.


    ¡°You¡¯ll come with me, right, Greg?¡± Lenny asked. ¡°Once we¡¯ve made sure that the area is safe?¡±


    Greg nodded quickly, and they moved on.


    Cleanup at the castle started as soon as the cavalry left with the duke and David. All around the walls, the Rot was set afire. Those not too injured were throwing more of the dead husks from the battlements into the flames. The mood was cheerful and subdued at the same time. The final fight against the giants had seen too many men dead or injured, and there was no telling how ¨C if ¨C the wounds caused by the Rot would heal.


    Lane helped carry the last of the wounded inside. Many of the deeper cuts she saw were already turning black, festering, the injured men feverish with infection. There was a special room in the keep reserved for those who could hope for no more help, even from a healer, where Morgulon was going around and gently licking wounds and biting soldiers, in the hopes that one curse might just be enough to defeat another kind of dark magic.


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    Lane was no doctor, but she reckoned that many of them would likely die anyway. And she wondered: Had they been asked, before the battle, if they would prefer becoming a werewolf over dying? Or had the duke made that decision for them?


    And why Morgulon? Shouldn¡¯t she be with her cubs?


    In the next room, the regular infirmary, Fenn, too, was busy licking wounds.


    ¡°Does that help?¡± Lane asked softly when she reached the point where Andrew was crouched next to Nathan.


    Andrew gently lifted the piece of white cloth that was only loosely lying on top of Nathan¡¯s worst injury. It had already been stitched up, so at least the ribs weren¡¯t visibly anymore, but the raw flesh had turned black ¨C not the healthy dark brown of Nathan¡¯s natural skin, rather a sickly, greenish dark grey where red should be.


    ¡°Fenn seems to have stopped the worst,¡± Andrew said glumly. ¡°At least it¡¯s no longer spreading.¡± He reached for Nathan¡¯s forehead and grimaced. ¡°He¡¯s still blazing.¡±


    Lane looked around the infirmary again. All the men in here had wounds like Nathan¡¯s, with blackened edges that were often spreading. The deeper the injury and the weaker the soldier, the faster the Rot was taking hold, as if it wanted to eat them alive. If the elders couldn¡¯t stop it, they would lose at least two-thirds of the soldiers who had fought in this battle. And Nathan would be one of them.


    Lane shuddered. All they could do was hope for the best and pray that those Rot giants that had run earlier didn¡¯t come back. Bernadette and Dale were both out. Fenn could just barely walk, one of his front legs broken. Calder and Morgulon were mostly fine, but Calder had gone to help find the High Inquisitor.


    A cheer on the corridor outside made Lane look up. ¡°Feed his bones to the fish!¡± someone yelled, followed by ¡°Feleke! David Feleke! Hail the hero of Oldstone Castle!¡±


    ¡°Sounds like they were successful,¡± Andrew said dryly. He gave Lane a meaningful look. ¡°Go on, congratulate you fianc¨¦. I¡¯ll sit with Nathan.¡±


    It looked like every able man in the castle wanted to congratulate David, who was bringing in the body of d¡¯Evier, but they did part when Lane hurried down the stairs into the courtyard. Suddenly, a hundred pairs of eyes were staring at her expectantly, and Lane slowed down in embarrassment. Too late, she realized just what they were waiting for: here was, after all, a victorious knight, not necessary in shining armour, but still the man who, it could be argued, had saved all their lives.


    And she was supposed to be in love with him.


    She pretty much had to kiss him, didn¡¯t she?


    When she stepped into the open, she could see it on not just David¡¯s face, but on the duke¡¯s, too, how they came to the same realization a few seconds later. David looked wearily amused at the whole situation, but George Louis was glaring daggers at her.


    It made her pause, if just for a second. Then she rushed forwards, with all the grace she could muster in her heavy woollen skirts, bloodied and dirty, clutching at her chest dramatically. When David climbed out of the saddle, she threw both arms around him. He made a startled sound, and Lane winked at him, hesitating just long enough to make sure he wouldn¡¯t push her away, before she pressed her lips to his.


    It was by far not the worst kiss she had ever shared, and she drew it out much longer than she would have if it hadn¡¯t been for the duke, glaring daggers. From the way David was digging his fingers into her hair, she guessed that he had caught on.


    While the men whistled and cheered, David pulled away just a little, to whisper into her ear: ¡°Let me guess: George Louis is watching?¡±


    ¡°About ready to kill me,¡± Lane breathed back. She couldn¡¯t help but grin. But that was fine. The men watching them were probably expecting her to smile.


    And George Louis could glare all he wanted. If he tried to hurt her, Morgulon would leave his campaign, and he couldn¡¯t afford to lose her any more than he could afford to further antagonize David ¨C not after he had made such an effort to turn the Feleke into a hero.


    What a weird thought, that she had friends like that suddenly.


    David took half a step back, keeping one arm wrapped around her. George Louis had caught himself by the time they turned around to him, but his smile never reached the eyes.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± David called, raising one arm and looking at the cheering soldiers. ¡°But I really need to see my brother now.¡±


    ¡°This way,¡± Lane said, before George Louis could disagree.


    Nobody wanted to get in their way as they hurried up the stairs, but the cheering didn¡¯t stop entirely.


    ¡°Have you seen Nathan?¡± David asked. ¡°How is he?¡±


    ¡°Same as all the others that got hurt by the Rot,¡± Lane said quietly. ¡°I mean ¨C Nathan was lucky. One of the doctors stitched the flesh back together before it could ¨C while there was still flesh to stitch together, I mean. Fenn has washed the wound.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, while there was still flesh to stitch together?¡± David asked.


    Lane shook her head. ¡°I ¨C just see for yourself.¡±


    They had reached the room, and David stopped at the first bed. The soldier there had lost his hand, an injury that would have been terrible enough without the Rot. But the sickness of it had eaten the flesh away almost all the way to the elbow, leaving only a piece of bone sticking out, with an uneven surface, as if some acid had dissolved it.


    David pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he couldn¡¯t believe what he was seeing. He stepped to the next bed, a deep cut in the leg, not as bad as the first man, but still, with blackened edges. The third man they came to was dead.


    David looked around until he spotted Andrew, who had raised a hand to wave them over, and in long strides ran to Nathan¡¯s side, pulling the cloth away that covered the wound.


    ¡°It¡¯s ¨C it could be a lot worse,¡± Andrew said quietly. ¡°It has stopped spreading. Keep¡¯s captain said they¡¯ll have all the healers from Breachpoint here as soon as they can get them here safely.¡±


    ¡°Whenever that¡¯ll be,¡± David whispered, and looked over to Fenn, still limping around the room, licking wounds. ¡°How¡¯re they not all screaming?¡±


    ¡°The few doctors we do have were very liberal with the opium.¡±


    David grimaced, and ran a hand over Nathan¡¯s forehead, then his own face. ¡°God damn it,¡± he whispered.


    ¡°Are there any healers here?¡± Lane asked softly.


    ¡°One,¡± Andrew said, grimacing.


    Lane groaned.


    How many healers might there be in Breachpoint? How fast could they get them here?


    But they¡¯d need Calder to go out, clean a path, and Calder alone probably wouldn¡¯t even be enough. Not while the giants were still out there.


    Lane didn¡¯t know how long they sat in silence next to Nathan¡¯s cot. The only interruptions were the few doctors of the keep who made their rounds, and Fenn, doing the same. Morgulon only poked her head in once, before she returned to her young.


    George Louis showed up at some point, but David just glared at him until he went away again. Eventually, people started cheering outside again.


    ¡°Now what?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Suppose they¡¯re tossing the High Inquisitor into the ocean,¡± David said. ¡°That¡¯s probably why George wanted me earlier.¡±


    But just a few minutes after the cheering died down, Greg came storming in.


    David and Andrew both stared at him dumbfounded.


    Greg opened his mouth, saw Nathan, and closed it again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry we were too late,¡± he finally said.


    ¡°Who¡¯s we?¡± David asked, sounding exhausted.


    ¡°Oh, uh ¨C Ragna, Rust, and Neville, and Lenny. Thoko is with them, they¡¯re already talking to the Captain and the duke, about bringing healers here? We¡¯ve been walking all day around the area, killing all the Rot we came across. Well, Ragna and Rust did. I think one of them¡¯ll go with a messenger to Breachpoint, let people there know it¡¯s safe.¡±


    ¡°You guys ¨C fought the Rot?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Ragna has been a werewolf for twenty years,¡± Greg said. ¡°She transformed as soon as we were out of Breachpoint.¡±


    ¡°Oh thank ¨C thank goodness.¡± David rubbed his face. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll have some more healers here in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± Greg asked. ¡°How ¨C how is Nathan?¡±


    ¡°Lucky to be alive,¡± Andrew sighed. ¡°He¡¯ll be even luckier if ¨C if he survives the night.¡±


    Greg stared at his motionless brother for a long moment. ¡°I¡¯ll go talk to Ragna,¡± he said after a moment and pushed himself off the ground.


    Lane got up, too, to give Fenn room to sniff at the injury and lick the ugly wound.


    Greg wasn¡¯t gone long when another werewolf came in, a big guy with reddish fur and just a little bit of silver around the muzzle.


    He took one look at the room, spotted Lane, David, and Andrew, and walked out again.


    ¡°I suppose that was Rust,¡± Andrew sighed.

 Chapter 72

    Lane went to sit with Morgulon for a while after that, staring at the warm heap of werewolf babies. Greg¡¯s two were laying side by side right now. Lane wondered when she should say something. Soon. Maybe in the morning, once the healers got here?


    Provided Nathan survived that long. If he were awake, she¡¯d show him his nieces right now, so he could ¨C would get to see them. But it was probably a good thing that the doctors kept him under.


    Lane rubbed her face. Outside in the courtyard, she could hear that a few soldiers were drinking to the fact that they were still alive, but more seemed to be spread around the many infirmaries, sitting with their comrades.


    At some point, Lane fell asleep, and a few hours later ¨C way too soon ¨C she was woken when someone stepped into Morgulon¡¯s little nursery with a torch, started to scream, and ran out again.


    ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± someone else hissed, and the screaming stopped abruptly.


    ¡°Werewolf, werewolf, werewolf,¡± the first voice shrieked.


    Women¡¯s voices, Lane noticed groggily.


    ¡°Seriously? Yes, our bodyguard on the way here was a werewolf!¡±


    ¡°Baby werewolves!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous!¡±


    Lane had sat up by the time two people walked back in, two older women in the white garb that the nuns of the salvation effort and hospitals wore.


    ¡°What time is it?¡± Lane asked them, as they stared at Morgulon and her litter.


    ¡°Apologies, miss,¡± one of the two said. ¡°It must be about four in the morning. We just got here, to help the wounded. My sister here must have taken the wrong door.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right.¡± Lane stifled a yawn. ¡°I¡¯ll come with you, it¡¯s just the next door.¡±


    Lane couldn¡¯t help but smile with relief when she entered the room where Nathan lay and spotted at least three healers, already busy with the wounded. David was fighting off another nun, trying to convince her that he was fine and failing. He did look bad. Lane hadn¡¯t realized how much of the blood that he had been covered in was actually his own.


    The nun started cutting off his jacket without heeding his protests. It was ruined anyway. Something had burned away a large swath in the back. The injury underneath stretched all the way up to David¡¯s neck.


    ¡°You know, there¡¯s no point in playing the hero,¡± Andrew jabbed. ¡°The men all worship the ground you walk on anyway.¡±


    Andrew¡¯s face and voice were still way too tense for Lane¡¯s liking.


    ¡°How is Nathan?¡± she asked.


    Andrew grimaced. ¡°Alive,¡± he said. ¡°And he¡¯s going to remain alive, the healer is fairly certain. Or rather ¨C the Rot isn¡¯t going to kill him.¡±


    ¡°But?¡± Lane asked, because she could hear it in Andrew¡¯s voice that there was still some issue.


    Andrew pulled the covers away, revealing one of Nathan¡¯s feet. It took Lane a second to process that the other one was missing.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to see what Nathan does to himself, once he wakes,¡± Andrew said softly. ¡°We hadn¡¯t realized that something had gotten through his boots,¡± he added. ¡°The Rot had already eaten through most of his foot, there was nothing for the healer to do but take it off.¡±


    ¡°You think Nathan won¡¯t take it well.¡±


    Andrew gave her a wry look. ¡°Nathan loves to run,¡± he just said.


    Lane sat down next to Nathan¡¯s bed. ¡°Did you guys sleep at all?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Some,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Until the first healers showed up, about an hour ago.¡±


    ¡°Greg¡¯s not around?¡±


    ¡°He should be around somewhere,¡± Andrew yawned. ¡°Went with this Rust fellow, to help bring in some nuns from the hospital at Breachpoint, but since those are here now, I guess he¡¯s back, too.¡±


    Greg did indeed show up a little later. He too took one look at Nathan¡¯s amputated foot and groaned.


    ¡°I should have come here straight away,¡± he muttered, looking embarrassed. ¡°But I needed to check on Bernadette, too.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Andrew yawned.


    ¡°None of this is fine!¡±


    Greg gesticulated towards Nathan, and Andrew grimaced, nodding.


    Lane didn¡¯t quite understand their worry. Nathan would live, surely that was the important thing? She knew at least one man who had lost a leg and had been riding just fine with his peg leg for years after, so Nathan would be even able to continue hunting ¨C if he ever wanted too.


    But of course, she didn¡¯t know Nathan all that well.


    Lane leaned back against the wall, right next to Greg, watching the nun bare David¡¯s whole upper body, revealing more injuries. At least David¡¯s flesh wasn¡¯t rotting.


    Fenn was already trotting over to look at it.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± David grumbled. ¡°Seriously. There¡¯s a lot of people here who¡¯re worse off.¡±


    ¡°David,¡± Andrew interrupted. ¡°Let them have a look. No one needs another idiot to get sick just cause he doesn¡¯t want to get checked over.¡±


    David glared at him, but he finally stopped arguing and let Fenn wash some of the bigger scrapes.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t his injuries rotting?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Probably because he¡¯s mostly fine ¨C all over, I mean,¡± Andrew said. ¡°The weaker someone is, the faster it takes hold. I got some scratches, too,¡± he added. ¡°They didn¡¯t fester, either. Yet, I mean. Fenn washed them, too, so I¡¯ll hope it¡¯ll be all right.¡±


    ¡°Has Fenn gotten any rest?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°No more than you,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Go get some sleep, then you can take over for him in the morning.¡±


    Greg nodded and closed his eyes.


    It was a weird night, Lane thought. She was still tired to the bone, but at the same time too wired to go back to sleep. So she just sat there, while nearly everyone else was dozing, watching the healers. At first, they were hesitant to use magic to heal anything but the most life-threatening injuries. Soon, however, they realized that they just had to be sure that one of the elder werewolves was close by. All four of the ones who had come with Greg were resting in one of the different infirmaries of the keep, so that wasn¡¯t difficult.


    Nathan opened his eyes a couple of times, and once mumbled something unintelligible, but he never really regained consciousness. Lane chewed on the inside of her cheek. She wanted to tell David about Morgulon¡¯s young, and that Greg was the father, but she should probably wait for Greg to wake up for that.


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    It didn¡¯t feel right to wait. There hadn¡¯t been a good time, but she still felt like she should have said something as soon as she knew.


    She must have dozed off eventually. She woke up because Nathan was moving. Before she could say anything, he had pushed himself up on his elbows. He dropped back, groaning softly, and gently touching the deep wound at his left side, but then struggled to push himself into a sitting position.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Lane said quietly, but when Nathan wouldn¡¯t stop struggling, she hurried over to help him sit.


    Then he folded his legs underneath himself.


    Lane could tell from the way he froze when he realized that something was wrong. He just sat there, motionless.


    When she was certain that he wouldn¡¯t just keel over, Lane let go of him and shook David awake.


    Nathan pushed the blanket away and was staring at the place where his foot should have been. The healers had wrapped up the stump in some clean bandages, which were already showing stains.


    Lane had no idea what to say, and apparently, neither had David. They both just sat there while Nathan very slowly reached out with one hand, to touch what was left of his leg. He didn¡¯t move for a small eternity.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Nathan,¡± David finally said.


    There was no reaction. Eventually, Nathan blinked, looking around the room. His gaze focused on Greg. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose a werewolf bite will fix this, will it?¡± he said quietly.


    ¡°The injury was caused by the Rot,¡± David said. ¡°No, I¡¯m afraid that even a werewolf bite wouldn¡¯t fix that.¡±


    ¡°The Rot didn¡¯t get me that badly. You shouldn¡¯t have allowed this.¡±


    To Lane¡¯s surprise, David got up instead of giving an answer and offered Nathan a hand. Nathan accepted it without hesitation. Lane wanted to point out that he was still injured and should be resting, but David already pulled Nathan up.


    Lane shuddered when the younger brother reflexively tried to catch his balance using a limb that wasn¡¯t there anymore. David gave him only a second to get his bearings before he started to tow him across the room over to where one of the dead bodies lay. The Rot had eaten away the soldier¡¯s hand and part of the arm.


    ¡°That¡¯s what your foot looked like,¡± David said.


    He let his brother stare for a few seconds, but didn¡¯t wait for Nathan to say anything. Instead, he just dragged him back to his sleeping place. Nathan let himself fall back gracelessly, barely catching his fall before his head hit the ground. Then he pulled the blanket over himself and turned his back on them.


    David rubbed his face and shook his head. With one hand, he gently reached for the burn at his back, before settling down on the ground, laying on his front and pushing himself up on his forearms.


    ¡°Get some sleep,¡± he told Lane, before resting his face on his hands.


    Greg woke around noon. Nathan was staring at him when he opened his eyes. His brother was sitting up, which was more than Greg had expected, even though Nathan was leaning against a bale of straw someone had dragged in. When he looked around, he realized that David, Andrew, and Lane were also staring at him.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked, yawning. ¡°Stop looking at me like that. You¡¯re making me nervous. Don¡¯t tell me there¡¯s any more bad news.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Andrew said finally.


    ¡°Not exactly is not exactly reassuring.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± Lane said. She had walked past him before Greg managed to sit up.


    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± he grumbled.


    Nathan¡¯s eyes were hollow, like he was just barely interested, or maybe like he had just nowhere else to stare. David looked tense. Only Andrew looked like there might be a joke in this somewhere.


    Lane returned just a moment later, carrying something in both arms. Greg frowned when she kneeled down in front of him, and he realized she was cradling a sleeping baby, wrapped loosely in a blanket. A baby with brown skin, not as dark as his own, but much darker than even the skin of people from Valoir itself. Before he could make sense of what was going on, she placed the sleeping child in his arms. The kid didn¡¯t open her eyes when he almost dropped it, but made an unhappy little sound.


    ¡°She¡¯s yours,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°My what?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Your daughter, idiot,¡± David grumbled. ¡°Yours and Morgulon¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°My what?¡± Greg repeated. ¡°No way! You never said...¡±


    He stared down at the little girl, who was blinking back at him from huge brown eyes. Human eyes. Like his own. There was no sign that she wasn¡¯t fully human. No resemblance of Morgulon, either, as far as he could see. Her face still had that crumpled look of a very newly born child.


    ¡°No way,¡± he repeated softly.


    But here was a child with brown skin and soft black down on her head.


    ¡°Wait. You said there¡¯d be several cubs. How many...?¡±


    How many children did he have?


    ¡°Two are yours,¡± Lane said. ¡°Two girls. Congratulations, I suppose.¡±


    The baby in his arms moved and Greg reflexively cradled her closer. He still couldn¡¯t quite grasp the idea that he was supposed to be a father ¨C that Morgulon was the mother. That he and Morgulon had a child. Children. And he couldn¡¯t remember any of it.


    Greg pressed his lips together. He couldn¡¯t remember any of it. But that made him the only one, didn¡¯t it?


    ¡°You knew this was a possibility, didn¡¯t you?¡± he asked, looking from David to deLande. The two of them didn¡¯t look shocked at all. More resigned.


    David rested his forehead in one hand, his elbow based on one knee. ¡°Morgulon could guess on which full moon it happened,¡± he admitted, just as Greg was about to demand an answer. ¡°You were all working at the railway towards Mannin then.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say anything earlier?¡± Greg asked.


    David sighed. ¡°I didn¡¯t think the timing she proposed was possible, because Morgulon also said that every time she transformed she risked a miscarriage, and she did this really slow transformation for Audenne in Deva. But I guess she was lucky there. It also didn¡¯t seem like a good idea to distract you with that before you went to find other elders. And then there was a battle to fight. And here we are.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to tell Thoko?¡± Andrew asked before Greg could say anything more.


    The question made Greg flinch so hard the girl in his arms cried out softly. ¡°No!¡± he said quickly.


    But that was stupid, wasn¡¯t it? There was no way Thoko could miss the colour of his daughters¡¯ skin. Greg gently stroked the soft hair on her head.


    Two daughters.


    Greg managed to get his feet under himself and stand up without jostling the child any further. ¡°Morgulon is right next door with the others, right?¡± he asked.


    He needed to see his other daughter, too.


    He paused against his will when he reached the door to Morgulon¡¯s chamber. He could see her inside, sleeping. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn¡¯t make his feet move across the threshold. He took a step backwards, just to see if that worked.


    Apparently, she just didn¡¯t want to be woken up. Too bad for her.


    He rapped his knuckles against the wood of the doorframe. He had to knock twice before the she-wolf finally opened her eyes. As soon as she focused on him, he stumbled forward without meaning to, pulled by her will.


    When Morgulon spoke to him, it wasn¡¯t something he heard, not really. Nor did her voice just appear inside his head, like he had read in books. It wasn¡¯t just body language, either. It felt rather as if she told the wolf-part of his mind, not him directly. Still, she got her point across.


    How¡¯d you get in here, Morgulon wanted to know when he stopped in front of her, staring at the baby in his arms.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Greg said. ¡°Lane brought her next door to show her to me.¡±


    Morgulon clearly didn¡¯t like that.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m here to bring her back. And I¡¯d like to see my other daughter. Did you give them names yet?¡±


    Morgulon shook her head. She did move a little so he could see the other four babies.


    Put her down, she demanded. She¡¯ll get cold.


    ¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± Greg said, but he kneeled down carefully in front of the giant she-wolf. He placed his daughter next to her sister and stroked both of their heads gently.


    What was Morgulon going to do next? Where would she go with the little ones?


    Your brother said we could come to your family¡¯s home, Morgulon informed him as if she had read his mind. Maybe she had.


    ¡°David told you that?¡± Greg asked back. ¡°When did you tell him that I was one of the fathers?¡±


    Possible fathers.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m more than just a possible father.¡±


    You are now. Morgulon shifted around when one of the babies started crying, to lick the boy¡¯s head. It was full moon, she continued. I didn¡¯t know who the father was. Fathers were.


    ¡°Right,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°But why did you ¨C you chose full moon, didn¡¯t you? If you had just wanted to have children, you could have picked any other night. Maybe ask us if we even wanted to have children.¡±


    Morgulon looked at him as if that was a stupid question.


    You¡¯re too human, she told him after a moment. You wouldn¡¯t understand this.


    There was an edge to her thoughts, bordering on disdain.


    Maybe in a few years, she added. If you ever learn to heed your other half. Some of us never do, unfortunately. It might be easier to live among them that way, Greg, but if you only ever act human, you are denying yourself half your strength. Half your knowledge.


    ¡°Right. Thanks a lot for that cryptic advice. You¡¯re worse than David, you know that? He never tells me everything, either.¡±


    Morgulon seemed to smile at that.


    Greg shook his head. There was no point in arguing with her. ¡°I want to see them,¡± he said instead. ¡°I mean, I want to see my daughters grow up. Not just visit them once a year.¡±


    Morgulon shrugged. Greg thought she seemed a little surprised by that demand, but didn¡¯t outright deny it.


    I suppose that¡¯ll depend on your family, she finally said. If your brother keeps his promise, I do not see why not.


    Greg frowned. Morgulon was clearly conflicted about David, both unsure if he would be true to his word and worried about his abilities as a hunter. But also hopeful that he could help them.


    The way she thought of him made it sound like he was a lot more powerful than Greg thought him to be.


    Ask him, Morgulon said.


    ¡°I will,¡± he said. ¡°Can I name them?¡±


    Fine. But we will rest now.

 Chapter 73

    Greg let himself get kicked out and trudged back over. Nathan had his good leg pulled up, hugging his knee with one arm and staring down at what remained of his other leg. Andrew and deLande were talking quietly, while David was cleaning his sword and barely seemed to listen.


    Greg sat down across from his oldest brother. ¡°What promise did you give Morgulon?¡± he asked bluntly.


    David looked surprised when he raised his eyes from his blade. ¡°Really? That¡¯s what you two talked about?¡±


    ¡°Morgulon said it¡¯ll depend on whether or not you keep your promise, whether I can see my daughters or not.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± David pushed the blade back into its scabbard. ¡°I promised her I¡¯d do everything in my power to make sure George Louis wouldn¡¯t screw you all over. I thought she was vastly overestimating my influence on him when she asked for that, but hell, he already named me his Royal Advisor, for all that he hasn¡¯t been crowned yet.¡±


    ¡°Royal Advisor. Really. I thought you didn¡¯t like politics.¡±


    ¡°I hate politics,¡± David confirmed. ¡°Everything for you and my nieces,¡± he added, with a wry smile. When Greg didn¡¯t smile back, he went on: ¡°There never was much chance of avoiding the politics altogether, once we got involved with both George and Desmarais.¡±


    Greg nodded slowly. That much was true at least.


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna bring them to Courtenay, though, aren¡¯t you?¡± Andrew interrupted.


    ¡°Depends on Morgulon, I suppose,¡± Greg said. ¡°She did mention it, but ¨C I can hardly force her to come, can I?¡±


    ¡°Just tell mother.¡±


    Greg frowned at him. So did David.


    ¡°What, you really think Morgulon is ready to take on Mum on the matter of her grandchildren? Because she may be an elder werewolf, but I still seriously doubt she¡¯s prepared for that fight.¡±


    Greg managed a weak smile at that.


    ¡°Taking them to Courtenay might not be the best idea, though,¡± David said. ¡°The house at Brines is as good as ready. Might be better if everyone gathers there.¡±


    ¡°What, don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re already missing your George that much,¡± Nathan jeered, finally looking up.


    ¡°Funny,¡± David said, completely straight-faced. ¡°It¡¯s rather unlikely that George Louis¡¯ll stay at Eoforwic much longer, don¡¯t you think? He needs to be at Deva. But Courtenay is too close to some southern lords who I personally don¡¯t trust, and Morgulon might be needed on the line to Mannin still.¡±


    ¡°Royal Advisor, did I hear that right?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°And when were you going to inform the rest of us about that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not official yet,¡± David shrugged. ¡°But yes. He also wants me to try and form a cavalry unit that rides on werewolves rather than horses. Command it, too, if I succeed.¡±


    ¡°He really is a little mad, isn¡¯t he?¡± Lane asked.


    David shrugged a second time. ¡°Who of us isn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°I resent that,¡± Nathan said. ¡°I¡¯m the picture of sanity.¡±


    They all turned to stare at him. People all around glared at them when they all started laughing at the same moment.


    ¡°Psst,¡± someone hissed.


    Nathan looked around, shaking his head. ¡°You¡¯d think this was a gravesite, not an infirmary,¡± he complained and held out a hand. ¡°I need to get out of here. Seriously. Someone give me a hand.¡±


    Andrew looked at David, who shrugged. Together, they pulled Nathan up. When the closest healer realized what they were about to do, he tried to stop them, but Nathan ignored the man completely as he struggled to hop past, leaning heavily onto Andrew¡¯s shoulder. Navigating the stairs was terribly awkward. Nathan was barely strong enough to keep himself upright, and he was clearly in a lot of pain even with all the poppy milk the doctors had given him, but he was determined, and with Greg at Nathan¡¯s other side, they made it into the courtyard.


    It was raining when they stepped outside, but Nathan wasn¡¯t slowed down by that. He looked around once and then threw himself forwards towards an open shack where fire wood was stored. Andrew could either follow him or let him face-plant into the muddy ground. Andrew followed, of course, and a moment later, they all sat on top of the remaining wood inside the shack. Only deLande must have excused herself while they were struggling down the stairs; Greg hadn¡¯t really been paying attention to her.


    He couldn¡¯t even remember the last time it had been just the four of them together anywhere.


    It didn¡¯t last long, either. They had barely settled down when a messenger came that the duke wanted to see David.


    ¡°Two silvers says George Louis had someone watching the door of the infirmary and inform him as soon as David left,¡± Nathan said, while they watched their oldest brother leave.


    ¡°I already told you,¡± Greg said. ¡°I¡¯m not touching silver for odds that shitty.¡±


    ¡°It certainly looks like the good duke is pretty badly smitten with David,¡± Andrew noted. ¡°I wonder how long it¡¯s going to last.¡±


    ¡°Guess we can only wait and see,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°You guys think David actually still, you know ¨C likes him?¡± Nathan asked, wrapping one arm very carefully around himself. He still couldn¡¯t quite hide the strain in his voice or the shaking of his hands. Greg wasn¡¯t sure if that was the injuries or the cold wind out here.


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Greg said. ¡°David told me how things ended between them ¨C even if David still likes him, he doesn¡¯t trust the duke.¡±


    Andrew and Nathan both looked up in interest, so Greg told them everything David had told him on that first night of full moon at First Camp.


    Andrew kept shaking his head throughout the story. ¡°Sounds like George Louis wasn¡¯t really all that interested in him back then,¡± he stated. ¡°Or he really doesn¡¯t know David at all.¡±


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    ¡°Or he just wanted to become a duke more than he wanted David,¡± Nathan pointed out.


    ¡°Damn optimistic of him to hope to win David back now, though,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Dunno,¡± Nathan disagreed. ¡°I mean, David is clearly helping him already.¡±


    ¡°Not the same thing at all,¡± said Andrew. ¡°David¡¯s helping him cause we actually need the duke to succeed, and we need someone to keep an eye on him.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that George Louis is really serious about David today, either,¡± Greg pointed out.


    ¡°He gave him a sword,¡± Nathan said.


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on. It¡¯s David. Giving him a sword? That¡¯s like giving roses to a woman.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, there¡¯re plenty of men who give out roses to women they¡¯re not all that serious about.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Andrew said slowly.


    ¡°Roses are cheaper than swords,¡± Nathan mumbled, eyes closed. ¡°So it¡¯s like the duke is already at the jewellery stage of courting.¡±


    ¡°I wonder what¡¯ll happen if David continues to turn him down,¡± Greg mused. ¡°The duke doesn¡¯t strike me as the kind of guy who deals well with the answer No.¡±


    ¡°Cheerful thought,¡± Andrew muttered. ¡°But since we¡¯re discussing love lives: Greg, you should go and tell Thoko before she finds out for herself.¡±


    Greg rubbed his face. ¡°Right,¡± he muttered. He tried to think of some excuse why he should wait a day or three, but Andrew was right. So he pushed himself off the wood log he had been sitting on. ¡°Right,¡± he repeated.


    ¡°Good luck,¡± Andrew called after him when he walked back towards the keep.


    Greg asked and looked everywhere, but couldn¡¯t find Thoko until he reached the room where the nurses had been put up. He would have walked straight past it, but there was a grim-looking older nun guarding the door, who caught his attention. Greg paused. He couldn¡¯t think of any other place where Thoko might be, and it was the natural place for her to rest.


    He lowered his head respectful to the guardian. She looked like she had been turning away soldiers all day and didn¡¯t have much patience left.


    ¡°Good evening,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to bother her if she¡¯s asleep, but I was wondering if you had seen Thoko Banda? I can¡¯t find her anywhere else.¡±


    He half hoped that the nun would tell him to get lost. She did glare at him for a moment, but then she opened the door a little, and threw a look inside.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± she warned him. ¡°I¡¯ll let Miss Banda know.¡±


    She vanished inside and returned just a moment later with Thoko.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± Thoko greeted him, grinning. ¡°When did you get back last night?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°About four in the morning, I think,¡± he said.


    ¡°How¡¯re your brothers?¡±


    Greg grimaced. ¡°Andrew and David are fine. Nathan is ¨C I don¡¯t know. But, uh, look. I need to show you something.¡±


    Thoko paused, looking at him in surprise. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Not ¨C not wrong, exactly.¡± Greg ran a hand over his head. ¡°Just ¨C really unexpected. And I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll like it.¡±


    ¡°Can you make it a little more cryptic? I think I might have understood some of that.¡±


    Greg grimaced. ¡°Here we are, anyway. Just ¨C this happened on full moon. It was nothing I wanted to happen.¡±


    He knocked against Morgulon¡¯s door and heard a low rumble in answer. He hesitated a second longer, but pushed open the door, and led Thoko inside. Thoko raised her eyebrows when she saw where they had arrived.


    He could have sworn that Morgulon was grinning at him when he kneeled down in front of her. He didn¡¯t bother asking for permission before he picked up one of his daughters ¨C if Morgulon hadn¡¯t been fine with him doing it, he was sure to have known.


    When he showed the baby girl to Thoko, she groaned softly. She didn¡¯t look mad, not even particularly surprised. Just resigned.


    After a moment, she said: ¡°I thought it would be Fleur.¡±


    Morgulon huffed.


    ¡°Fleur¡¯s too young,¡± Greg dutifully translated.


    Thoko smiled wryly. ¡°Yes, I got that part. I did listen when David and deLande told us.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Greg said. ¡°Morgulon mentioned it.¡±


    ¡°So, how many children do you have? I heard someone say there were five?¡±


    ¡°Just two are mine,¡± Greg said quickly. ¡°Two daughters. Hard to tell who fathered the others.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ¨C you know, I really don¡¯t want to think too much about how that must have happened,¡± Thoko sighed. ¡°What happens next?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve no idea,¡± Greg admitted. ¡°I guess ¨C you went with Ragna when she spoke to the duke last night, right? Did he say anything about his plans?¡±


    Thoko shook her head. ¡°Not to us, in any case. But I could tell that he was really uncomfortable, talking to a group of werewolves without a hunter standing at each of his sides.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Greg said. ¡°Well, the duke sent for David a while ago. I guess we¡¯ll learn more once he gets back. David did talk about all of us going to Brines.¡±


    Thoko turned to Morgulon, gauging her reaction, before kneeling down to have a closer look at the babies.


    ¡°What¡¯s in Brines?¡± Thoko asked, a question Morgulon was clearly interested in as well. ¡°And where is that?¡±


    ¡°Brines is a small village outside of Eoforwic,¡± Greg explained. ¡°Where my father bought that old, ruined estate last year, after I got injured and needed a place to transform?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that place.¡± Thoko nodded.


    ¡°Well, the village recently got a railway station, so you can get to Eoforwic really quickly,¡± Greg went on. ¡°And from there, anywhere else. If Morgulon was there, she could be at First Camp within just a little over an hour in an emergency and be back with the little ones just as quickly. Or get to Deva and back within a day. Courtenay is less well connected right now.¡±


    He settled down with his daughter when Thoko carefully picked up the other baby girl. Morgulon watched like a hawk but didn¡¯t interfere.


    ¡°So what¡¯s it like,¡± Thoko asked, smiling when the tiny girl started to suckle at her finger. ¡°Being a Dad?¡±


    Greg grinned. ¡°I¡¯ve known for less than a day. Ask me again tomorrow.¡±


    Morgulon made a rumbling sound, sounding amused.


    ¡°Will you turn human for the next new moon?¡± Greg asked her, gently stroking his daughter¡¯s head. ¡°And what happens on full moon to them?¡±


    Full moon won¡¯t be much trouble for a while, Morgulon said. They can barely move and have no teeth. And yes, I will turn human again on new moon. I¡¯m tired.


    ¡°But will they have the same anger?¡± Greg asked. It was hard to imagine, looking down at the tiny face and even smaller hands and feet.


    Morgulon shrugged. They¡¯ll be unhappy, she said. How angry can a new-born cub even get? Their eyes and ears will still be closed in their wolf shape. It will not be safe for them to be around you or me, she added.


    Greg nodded slowly. When Thoko poked him, he relayed what Morgulon had said.


    ¡°Will you tell the other werewolves who¡¯re potential fathers?¡± Thoko asked.


    Morgulon looked surprised, as if that thought had never occurred to her. How could they miss that?


    ¡°Well,¡± Greg said. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that all the other younger ones don¡¯t know any more about all this than I did.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t one of them, Morgulon said with conviction. It shouldn¡¯t have been you, either. They¡¯re almost certainly Calder¡¯s.


    ¡°Because he was the oldest one around?¡± Greg asked.


    Morgulon nodded.


    ¡°But it was me,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°So it could have been one of the other younger ones. Or at least Boris.¡±


    Morgulon shook her head. You¡¯re just different.


    ¡°I¡¯m what?¡±


    Morgulon laughed silently, huge tongue hanging out of her mouth. You very nearly defied Theo to his face, didn¡¯t you? To protect her? She glanced at Thoko. A werewolf twenty years your elder.


    Greg frowned. ¡°But I can¡¯t fight the Rot any better than any other werewolf my age, can I?¡±


    No. My mother was a little like you, Morgulon continued. She had so much humanity in her she hardly needed to heed the other voice. The opposite side of insanity, my father called it.


    Greg couldn¡¯t help but grin at that. What had David said earlier, that they were all a little mad?


    When he told Thoko what Morgulon had said, she laughed, too, but stopped when the child in her arms started to complain.


    It¡¯s not always a good thing, Morgulon added after a moment. It makes you two people, much more so than the rest of us.


    Greg opened his mouth, then closed it again. ¡°Does that mean that you can remember what happens to you on full moon?¡±


    Bits and pieces. More than you, I suppose. When I decided to have children, it was a decision all of me made.


    ¡°Did you warn Calder?¡± he wanted to know.


    Calder knew, Morgulon shrugged. Everybody who knew how to listen to their wolf-side knew something was up. Only you could get caught up in this and not even realize.


    ¡°Great,¡± Greg muttered.


    He and Thoko stayed the rest of the afternoon with Morgulon and the children until the elder werewolf decided she wanted some more rest and kicked them out.

 Chapter 74

    The next morning, Lenny woke Greg up way too early. Greg wanted to growl at him, but the old man looked just too excited ¨C both elated and insecure at the same time.


    ¡°You said you¡¯d come with me,¡± he said when Greg just yawned.


    ¡°Come where?¡± Greg asked groggily.


    ¡°To see my daughter!¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Greg said. ¡°Yes, sure. You¡¯re going today?¡±


    Lenny nodded so eagerly that his whole body wobbled. ¡°Miss Thoko was kind enough to speak to the Relentless ¨C to your brother, Sir David, for me, to ask him if he would ask the duke, I mean. And he said I can go today!¡±


    Greg nodded, a little bit confused. Thoko must have asked David yesterday, while he had been still asleep. And David had already talked George Louis into letting Lenny go?


    Well, he had been at the duke¡¯s war council long enough.


    Greg pushed himself upright and yawned again. He reached for his shirt but froze when it finally registered what Lenny was wearing.


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t you look dashing,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°I do, don¡¯t I?¡± Lenny asked excitedly. ¡°One of the quartermasters gave it to me last night. He said Lord David suggested it. So people will know I¡¯m not the bad kind of werewolf.¡±


    Lenny was wearing the same uniform all of George Louis¡¯s men wore: A red coat, grey trousers, the conical black hat known as shako, and black boots. The only difference was that his looked like it hadn¡¯t seen battle yet. He wasn¡¯t clean-shaven like the regular troops, but he had cut what little remained of his hair and also groomed his beard. If it hadn¡¯t been for his yellow eyes, he could have passed as an extremely senior soldier.


    Greg grinned when he noticed a detail. ¡°I see you got promoted to Lance Corporal straight away. Congratulations.¡±


    Lenny actually blushed at that. ¡°Quartermaster said that it had to be that way, seeing how as a werewolf, I¡¯m a specialised kind of soldier.¡±


    Greg nodded and stared at his own shirt, which was more brown than white by now. ¡°Well, let me see if I can round up some clean clothing, too.¡±


    Andrew was willing to part with some of his stuff, but warned him: ¡°If you bleed on that, I¡¯m not sharing again.¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± Greg muttered, but he got dressed quickly, with an excited Lenny hovering around.


    Lenny wasn¡¯t the only werewolf already decked out in the new uniform. Fenn and Boris wore it, too, if not quite as proudly. Bernadette and Fleur hadn¡¯t been given new clothes, and neither had the younger werewolves Greg could see around. The situation was hotly discussed all around.


    ¡°A skirt with the uniform?¡± he heard one soldier say to another. ¡°Are you mad? Make them wear pants like that girl who came with the new elders.¡±


    Greg smiled to himself, happy that this wasn¡¯t an issue he needed to solve. He did have a hard time picturing Ragna in a skirt, and good luck to the man who tried to put her in one.


    Thoko was waiting for them downstairs, outside the open door to the large mess hall. She held out a cup of hot, strong tea for Greg and some bread.


    Greg eyed the dry bread unhappily but didn¡¯t complain. The soldiers all around didn¡¯t get anything better for breakfast.


    ¡°I see you¡¯re dressed up, too,¡± Greg noted. ¡°Looks good. What did the nuns say?¡±


    Thoko wore the same grey trousers as the soldiers, which fit her a lot better than Greg would have expected, with the prim white blouse the nuns wore. Somehow, the contrast managed to look quite elegant and drew a lot of stares.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Thoko smiled. ¡°Funny you ask about the nuns,¡± she added. ¡°One of them helped me make the pants fit. She pointed out that nowhere in the Book of Mithras does it actually say that women have to wear skirts.¡±


    ¡°Really,¡± Greg said. He had never read the Book of Mithras. You had to be a priest to be allowed to do so. Technically, a nun wasn¡¯t allowed to read it, either, as far as he knew.


    Thoko smiled. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that a lot of the nuns at the hospitals aren¡¯t nuns because they necessarily love the Church so much.¡±


    Greg opened his mouth and closed it again. He had almost asked why a woman who wasn¡¯t deeply religious would join a convent, but the answer wasn¡¯t that hard to guess, was it? For any Valoisian woman, ¡°marrying herself to Mithras¡± was the only option if she wanted to avoid the husband her father chose for her. And the nuns at the Imperial hospitals were well educated and comparatively independent.


    ¡°You look good, too, Lenny,¡± Thoko said, making the old man turn beet-red and mumble something into his beard neither of them understood. He waited restlessly for Greg to finish his breakfast, assuring him that he had already eaten.


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    Thoko wisely insisted on bringing some provisions. ¡°We won¡¯t get there until almost noon,¡± she pointed out.


    Greg was certainly glad that they brought water. The sun was still quite warm for autumn.


    ¡°Is this your only daughter we¡¯re visiting?¡± Thoko asked when the village came into view.


    ¡°My oldest,¡± Lenny said. ¡°She helped me get away, after I got bitten, even though she was seven months pregnant at the time. The others were too scared to come near me, then.¡±


    Lenny shrugged. ¡°Her name¡¯s Dorothy, not sure if I mentioned before?¡±


    Greg nodded.


    As Thoko had predicted, they reached the palisades around the small fishing village maybe half an hour before noon. They weren¡¯t guarded, and nobody stopped them when they took the main road into the village. It was built right at the water¡¯s edge, with the first line of houses built on stilts. The tide was out when they got there, but apparently, half the village got flooded when it came back in.


    ¡°Built on the sea¡¯s sacred ground,¡± Lenny said. He sounded proud but looked around anxiously. ¡°Only consecration that actually stops the Rot. We even had our own butcher. It was right there.¡±


    His face fell when he pointed out a building. Nets hung between poles to dry in front of it, but no animals in sight.


    Instead, in front of many buildings, men and women were mending nets. They stared when the three walked by, but nobody made any attempt to get a closer look or speak to them until they were two houses past the building Lenny remembered to be a butcher.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned,¡± a man, at least as old as Lenny, called out at them. He was mending his nets like so many other fishermen. ¡°Is that you, Lenny?¡±


    Lenny swerved over but kept his distance. So did the old man, who had gotten up from his stool, squinting at them.


    ¡°Thought we had you run out the village for good,¡± the stranger said. ¡°What do you want here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for Dorothy,¡± Lenny said.


    The stranger looked Lenny up and down. ¡°You been fighting at Oldstone Castle? Or did you steal that uniform off a dead body?¡±


    ¡°Actually, we fought the Rot giant that was about to tear down your matchstick palisade,¡± Greg said.


    There was a moment of silence. ¡°You all three werewolves?¡± the stranger asked.


    Greg was about to correct him, but Thoko was quicker. ¡°How many women wearing pants do you know?¡± she asked.


    The other guy stared at her as if he noticed her attire for the first time. Then he turned around and quickly walked away, slamming the door behind himself.


    ¡°What?¡± Thoko asked when Greg stared at her. ¡°I never said I was a werewolf, did I?¡±


    Lenny laughed at that, his voice shaking. He stared at the closed door and finally said: ¡°Let¡¯s go. It¡¯s just two houses further.¡±


    ¡°Who was that guy?¡± Thoko asked.


    ¡°Merv¡¯s his name,¡± Lenny said. ¡°Big name in the village. His family claims they founded it.¡±


    They should have brought an entourage. On the other hand, this was a very personal visit, and a bunch of soldiers standing around probably wouldn¡¯t improve the situation.


    ¡°Thanks for coming,¡± Lenny said. He walked all the way up to the front door of one house, but then froze without knocking.


    He didn¡¯t have to. Before Greg or Thoko could think of anything to say to encourage him, the door opened and a woman stared at Lenny. She probably wasn¡¯t much older than deLande, but her face already showed the first wrinkles. There was a toddler on her hip, and an older boy standing half behind her.


    ¡°Father?¡± the woman asked. ¡°Is that really you?¡±


    ¡°Hello, Dorothy,¡± Lenny said softly. He stepped forwards slowly, as if he wasn¡¯t sure if he would be allowed to hug her. His daughter was quicker, pressing the toddler into his half-raised arms.


    ¡°This is Leonard,¡± she said, putting her now free hand onto the shoulders of the older boy, pushing him forwards. ¡°And you¡¯re holding Roland.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s their father?¡±


    ¡°At sea,¡± Dorothy said. She took a deep breath, and added: ¡°Since last year.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Lenny said. He juggled Roland around a little, and then reached out properly to hug his daughter. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± he added.


    ¡°You never did like Henry.¡±


    Lenny shrugged awkwardly. ¡°But you did.¡±


    Dorothy smiled, looking down at her feet. After a second, she stepped back into the small hut, and said: ¡°Come inside. You already ran into Merv?¡±


    Lenny nodded and followed her. When Greg looked over his shoulder before entering, too, Merv was standing a little down the road. Greg thought he saw him scowl.


    ¡°Looks like he¡¯s getting braver,¡± Thoko said, and firmly closed the door.


    Greg nodded and looked around the hut, feeling embarrassed. There was only one room, with a ladder leading up onto a platform in the rafters. Greg could see blankets up there. The fire in the small fireplace didn¡¯t quite manage to warm the whole room, and it smelled of fish and salt and dried seaweed. Dorothy was already ushering Lenny to sit down at an ancient table, once probably roughly hewn but worn smooth by countless years.


    Her two boys were staring from Lenny to Thoko to him.


    ¡°Are you a pirate?¡± the younger one asked Thoko.


    ¡°Roland!¡± his mother snapped, but he went on: ¡°Only pirate ladies wear pants, right? Cause they don¡¯t need to follow the law.¡±


    Thoko smiled. ¡°I¡¯m not a pirate lady, but thank you.¡±


    ¡°Are you a werewolf?¡± the older boy asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a werewolf, either. But don¡¯t tell Merv that. Greg here is a werewolf,¡± Thoko added because the boys were still staring.


    ¡°But why do you wear pants?¡± the younger one asked.


    Thoko hesitated only a second. ¡°I work like a man, so I wear trousers like a man.¡±


    ¡°Mummy works like a man, too! She takes Daddy¡¯s boat fishing!¡±


    ¡°You go out by yourself?¡± Lenny asked.


    ¡°Have to, don¡¯t I?¡± Dorothy replied. ¡°It was damned lucky it got washed ashore.¡±


    ¡°What about your brothers?¡±


    Dorothy shrugged. ¡°They barely make ends meet themselves. Harry¡¯s got his mother in law to take care of, and Dick has eight kids to feed. Two pairs of twins, if you can believe it.¡±


    She smiled, though it looked tired. ¡°We¡¯re doing all right on our own.¡±


    As if to change the subject, she looked Thoko up and down. ¡°What kind of work do you do?¡±


    ¡°I work on the railway,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Well, I used to work with a crew of navvies. Recently, Greg and I travelled into the Argentum Formation to find more werewolves.¡±


    ¡°And the navvies don¡¯t mind a woman in men¡¯s clothing?¡±


    Thoko looked at Roland. ¡°He wasn¡¯t too far off the mark,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m not a pirate, but our crew, well, we were the first to try and take on the Rot without major alchemy at our side. The last thing anyone cared about were the laws about crossdressing. Well, and after a year of having me around, people sort of got used to it. Not even Duke George Louis said anything.¡±


    Dorothy nodded, without saying anything.


    ¡°Is there a way out back?¡± Thoko went on. ¡°I haven¡¯t been on the beach in ages, and the weather is nice.¡±


    Greg opened his mouth to protest before he realized that Thoko was just trying to give Lenny and his daughter some space. There was indeed a way back out, and a moment later, they climbed down a ladder at the back of the house, until they were standing on the mudflats.

 Chapter 75

    Thoko had been right ¨C the weather was very nice, Greg thought while they walked together side by side along the beach. He didn¡¯t know what to say. He¡¯d have liked to reach for Thoko¡¯s hand.


    This was the first time that it was just the two of them, ever since the day she had told Theo that he was her friend like the two of them were more than just friends. He wanted to ask if she had meant it ¨C or rather, if she would like for it to be true. But he wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good idea, after she had found out just yesterday that he had children with another woman.


    Another Werewolf.


    Did that make a difference? Thoko had said that she had expected something like that to happen with Fleur, and she had made it pretty clear that she hadn¡¯t been happy about them together in the woods.


    And even if what had happened between Morgulon and him on full moon didn¡¯t make a difference to her ¨C what kind of relationship could they even have?


    He¡¯d have liked to one day court a girl, ask her parents for permission to take her out on a walk along the river, bring her flowers and other gifts ¨C the same way Gustave and all the other young men their age and social standing would probably start to do it about now.


    But that wasn¡¯t actually his life anymore, was it?


    He was a little embarrassed to admit that he had no idea how people who weren¡¯t either rich or noble went about a courtship. And werewolves?


    Werewolves couldn¡¯t get married at all.


    He was almost certain that Thoko wouldn¡¯t mind what he was. Or that he was a couple of years younger than her. And from everything he knew about Morgulon¡¯s parents, he was almost certain that it would be safe for them to be together, too.


    Would it bother her that he couldn¡¯t make an honest woman of her?


    ¡°I can hear you over-thinking this,¡± Thoko interrupted him.


    Greg paused in his steps. ¡°Does that mean that you don¡¯t want to talk about ¨C us?¡±


    Thoko stopped, too, smiling wryly. She looked out at the sea, then back towards him. After a moment, she said: ¡°I like you a lot, Greg. I think you like me, too. It doesn¡¯t have to be more complicated than that.¡±


    She paused, head tilted back to look up to his face. When Greg didn¡¯t say anything, she added: ¡°Do you like me?¡±


    Greg wasn¡¯t sure if that was a serious question. He hoped it wasn''t. If she still needed to ask that, maybe they weren¡¯t ready for any kind of relationship yet.


    Before he could make up his mind how he wanted to answer her question, Thoko continued: ¡°I don¡¯t need flowers from you, Greg, or gifts. I don¡¯t need you to announce our courtship like your brother and deLande. I don¡¯t need an official engagement or some paper that confirms that we belong to each other. I just need to know that you want to stand at my side, whatever the future brings.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C well, yes, I can promise you that much,¡± Greg said quietly.


    Thoko smiled a little wider and reached for both of his hands with her own. ¡°See?¡± she said. ¡°That wasn¡¯t so hard, was it?¡±


    Greg stared down at where their fingers were entwined and nodded slowly. He wished he could see things that way, wished it really was that easy.


    Thoko seemed to sense his doubts, because, after a moment, she added gently: ¡°Tell me what you¡¯re worried about?¡±


    Greg bit his lips. ¡°You don¡¯t mind? At all? That we won¡¯t be able to get legally married?¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Well, honestly? No.¡±


    Thoko finally looked away from his face, turning a little, so she could stare out across the ocean, but still holding onto one of his hands and leaning her head against his shoulder.


    ¡°A marriage is handled differently, where I come from,¡± she said. ¡°Your uncle would talk to mine, they¡¯d arrange a gift you¡¯d give to my family, that would pretty much be it. No priest of Mithras, no official needs to get involved. And I see no reason why we can¡¯t still do that. I¡¯m fairly certain that mother could talk my uncle into it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a living uncle at Loegrion.¡±


    Thoko shrugged. ¡°It just needs to be someone who can speak for your family.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    She glanced up to him again. ¡°Did your parents get married by a priest?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes,¡± Greg said. ¡°There wasn¡¯t really another choice. Not for people of their standing.¡±


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    ¡°So your mother¡¯s family is noble, too? I thought there were no other black nobles here?¡±


    ¡°No peers,¡± Greg qualified. ¡°There are a few chevaliers. My parents met when my father took the Grand Tour. He stayed at her home province much longer than he would have otherwise, and then they wrote letters to each other daily for about a year. Until she came to the court at Deva with her brother. Her family was on the fence at first, cause father wasn¡¯t quite her rank. I mean ¨C mother¡¯s father was of equal rank to a baron, but considering what a backwater province Loegrion is... Well, mother really needed to work to convince her parents that my father was the one she wanted, enough so that she wanted to live her life in danger of the Rot.¡±


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s not surprising, really,¡± Thoko said. ¡°But would you really want to get married by a priest, too?¡±


    Greg thought about it. ¡°Not really,¡± he said slowly. ¡°I mean, I¡¯d like to be able to. But it doesn¡¯t matter to me in a ¨C a religious sense.¡±


    They started walking again, still holding hands.


    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t been bitten, do you think your parents would mind that I don¡¯t have land or a title?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a fourth son,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°There never was much chance that I¡¯d marry higher than the daughter of some landed knight. A merchant¡¯s daughter was always a more likely match for me.¡±


    ¡°Someone rich.¡±


    ¡°Not even that rich, probably,¡± Greg disagreed. ¡°The really wealthy merchants want a proper title from their son-in-law. Important aristocracy, you know? Asides, you¡¯ll be as good as landed gentry if the duke keeps his word.¡±


    ¡°Right...¡± Thoko said, drawing the word out.


    ¡°Anyway, no, I don¡¯t think my parents would have minded,¡± Greg said. ¡°Not that we ever would have met, if I hadn¡¯t gotten bitten.¡±


    ¡°Do you regret it?¡±


    ¡°Meeting you? No.¡±


    Thoko was kind enough to smile at the weak joke. ¡°You know what I meant.¡±


    Greg pulled a little away from her and buried his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders up against the wind.


    ¡°Right now, it¡¯s fine,¡± he said after walking a little more. ¡°It¡¯s nice, to be able to fight the Rot, help people, and help free Loegrion. I wish David hadn¡¯t told that reporter about me, though. I kind of get why he did it, and it was just a matter of time, anyway, for word to get around. But still, I¡¯d have liked to return to Deva at least once, maybe talk to some friends there... I guess how much I resent this will depend on how people will react to me in the future. Not just the navvies, I mean.¡±


    He sighed, and forced himself to loosen up a little to reach for her hand again.


    ¡°It¡¯s this weird back and forth,¡± he added after a moment. ¡°At Courtenay, nothing had changed at all, out in the forest ¨C well, at least I have a purpose, there, though I don¡¯t particularly enjoy fighting the Rot. When George Louis said that I needed to lock myself up in that stinking inn in Eoforwic, I hated it all.¡±


    He took a deep breath. ¡°Do you mind?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Thoko said. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about it, ever since I realized how jealous it made me when you ran around with Fleur on full moon, and no. I don¡¯t mind that you¡¯re a werewolf. Sometimes I wish I could go with you. Transform with you, and fight by your side.¡±


    Greg shuddered at the thought. ¡°I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t get bitten,¡± he said.


    Thoko made a lopsided smile. ¡°I¡¯d consider volunteering, actually,¡± she said. ¡°If there was any way to, you know, guarantee the outcome. I¡¯m tired of being useless. All I can do to help is swing an axe to clear trees.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t useless in the mountains at all,¡± Greg reminded her. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure Theo would have run me off if I¡¯d shown up alone.¡±


    ¡°It was nice to be able to do that, yes,¡± Thoko said. ¡°But now that winter is coming, I won¡¯t be able to do it again for a while. And there¡¯s the war...¡±


    ¡°You could learn to fire a rifle,¡± Greg said. ¡°I could teach you. And some basic sword fighting, too, though if you really want to get good at it, you should talk to David.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll bet that¡¯ll go over well ¨C a woman who doesn¡¯t just wear pants but carries arms as well.¡±


    ¡°DeLande does it. Actually, I like this idea. We should get you a pistol, too, I think.¡± Greg grinned. ¡°Let people think you actually are a pirate lady. At least it¡¯ll make them think twice about how they treat you.¡±


    When Thoko didn¡¯t react, he added: ¡°Would you want to?¡±


    ¡°Thinking about it,¡± Thoko said. ¡°I never considered fighting humans. But yes. Maybe?¡±


    They reached the top of a dune and she looked back towards the village. ¡°How much time do we give Lenny?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Let¡¯s wait a little bit longer. I think we can have lunch without him.¡±


    He sat down, and pulled his water bottle out of his pack. Thoko got out the food, and they had a somewhat meagre lunch, which was greatly improved by the view and the company. Afterwards, Thoko leaned her head against Greg¡¯s shoulder and he put his arm around her.


    When they returned back to the village, Lenny was sitting at the only table in the hut, bouncing the younger one of his grandsons on his knees. He was grinning even wider than the kid. His daughter was smiling gently. All in all, it seemed like the reunion had gone well.


    ¡°Thank you for coming with me,¡± Lenny said, once they were back on their way towards Oldstone Castle.


    ¡°Did you get to talk to your sons, too?¡± Thoko asked.


    The older man shook his head. ¡°Some other time.¡±


    But he was still smiling. ¡°I¡¯ve got lots of time now, right?¡±


    Greg nodded. He could only hope that he had been right and Lenny would be allowed to stay somewhere close. If Duke George Louis decided to send him to Deggan or King¡¯s Haven, that would suck.


    ¡°When are they gonna build a railway along the coast?¡± Lenny asked.


    ¡°Good question,¡± Thoko said. ¡°I guess it¡¯ll happen in the next few years, but Eyal hasn¡¯t been made an offer for that yet, so I can¡¯t say for sure.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll see. Dorothy said she¡¯s even willing to move.¡±


    ¡°Do you think this Merv guy will be trouble?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t do anything, can he?¡± Lenny shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t call a hunter on me, and I doubt he¡¯s got the guts to come at me himself. At most, he can bother Dorothy when I¡¯m not there, and she¡¯s tough. Also, she mentioned a rumour in the village that Merv beat his wife to death, so if he does try to come at Dorothy, he won¡¯t even have the support of most of the women. And without that, what¡¯s he gonna do?¡±


    ¡°He might still turn the village against you,¡± Thoko pointed out. ¡°What¡¯s a dead wife, gone and buried, against a werewolf who¡¯s right there?¡±


    Lenny didn¡¯t seem concerned. ¡°Can¡¯t call a hunter,¡± he repeated. ¡°And I can always meet Dorothy and the kids at Oldstone Castle. Or Breachpoint. And like I said, she¡¯s willing to move if I get sent somewhere else.¡±


    That was bold of Dorothy, Greg thought, but Thoko nodded along.


    ¡°I bet if you get sent somewhere with more of a Rot problem, people will be very happy to have Dorothy along.¡±


    Lenny grinned, showing all his teeth. ¡°That¡¯s what I was thinking,¡± he said.

 Chapter 76

    David stared out of a window high up the keep, watching Greg, Thoko and the strange werewolf walk away. He wished he could go with them. The weather looked like it would be a nice day, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck inside the stuffy room where George Louis was holding his war council.


    But such was the life of a royal advisor.


    David turned back to the room where the duke and the keep¡¯s captain had already taken their seats along the big table. About half of the nearly twenty seats were taken, with George Louis at the head. He had saved the seat to his right for David, even though there were higher-ranking lords present.


    One of them was Marquess Picot, which surprised David. Even more surprising, the Lord Warden of Breachpoint had actually been in his city during the attack. That was far more dutiful of him than David had expected.


    And there was Marquess Rover walking in. Great. If Malemaines showed up, too, they¡¯d have the whole set of Coast Wardens. Rover sat down across from Picot and glared at the two empty chairs to George Louis¡¯s right and left.


    The other seats were quickly taken by what one might call the military elite of Loegrion. Not that there really was such a thing. But everyone within this room ¨C aside from David himself ¨C had served in the Grande Arm¨¦e during some campaign or another, usually in a command position.


    The last person to walk in was a very old, very tall and gaunt man. He was missing an eye and leaned heavily on a walking stick, limping slightly.


    ¡°Ah, Lord Clermont,¡± George Louis greeted the man, rising. ¡°I am very glad you chose to join us today.¡±


    Clermont paused at the door and looked at the people already gathered around the table without saying anything in reply. The scarring around his missing eye made it hard to decipher his expression. One corner of his mouth was perpetually twisted downwards. Finally, he turned to stare at David. The old man¡¯s good eye seemed to pierce him as they sized each other up.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve met my advisor, Lord Feleke?¡± George Louis offered helpfully.


    David and Clermont had indeed never met, but David had found out as much about the retired general as he could, after the duke had mentioned in Eoforwic that he wanted Clermont to command the Loegrion troops.


    The old lord had been born at a small barony in the very south of Loegrion, a second son who hadn¡¯t inherited anything. So instead, he had joined the Grande Arm¨¦e, fighting and commanding armies for the Roi Solei all around the Empire for almost four decades. David had looked up his campaigns, too, and Clermont was one of the most successful, but also one of the most careful generals of the Roi Solei. One scribe had written that he never picked a battle he couldn¡¯t win.


    The question was where his loyalty lay today. As far as David had been able to find out, the general had lived for most of his life outside of Loegrion. Why would he turn his back on the Valoise after all his loyal years of service?


    Then again, he had chosen to retire here.


    ¡°The hero of Oldstone Castle,¡± Lord Clermont finally said. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met, no. But word of what happened here already got around.¡±


    ¡°An exaggerated version, I¡¯m sure,¡± David replied.


    Clermont sized him up again. ¡°It¡¯s rare enough for soldiers to praise their commanding officers,¡± he stated calmly. ¡°If they do, it¡¯s seldom undeserved.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, well done, I¡¯m sure he did a good job executing His Highness¡¯s plan,¡± Marquess Rover interrupted. ¡°Can we get started now? I do not wish to stay in this ruin any longer than necessary.¡±


    David hesitated for a second, wondering if he should tell the Marquess what he thought of him, but then decided against it. The whole bloody meeting was sure to last even longer if he started a fight before it even began.


    Instead, he just took his seat to the duke¡¯s right.


    With so many nobles in one room, there were of course a bunch of pleasantries that needed to be observed. David listened only with half an ear while George Louis introduced all the very important men, and servants passed out refreshments. Therefore, he didn¡¯t realize right away what the duke meant when he finished with: ¡°I think we should begin with a report on the battle by someone who actually witnessed it.¡±


    Only when all eyes fell on him did he understand what George wanted from him.


    David groaned inwardly. ¡°My pleasure,¡± he lied.


    He¡¯d already given a report on the battle for George Louis and the keep¡¯s captain yesterday. What did George have that scribe take notes for, if he was just going to make David give the whole report a second time?


    Speaking in front of large gatherings wasn¡¯t something David had much practise in. When all the assembled nobles stared at him, he felt himself duck his head and hunch up his shoulders without thinking about. It took a conscious effort to straighten up and face his audience. His mouth was dry, too, and he had to clear his throat twice before he could describe what it had been like, fighting against the Rot with the help of the werewolves, which tactics had worked and which hadn¡¯t.


    When he finished, Lord Clermont braced his arms on the table, leaning forward. ¡°You said that those ¨C elder ¨C werewolves on the walls transformed at the very moment this ¨C Morgulon? ¨C gave birth. Do you agree there likely was a connection?¡±


    What a weird question, David thought. Hadn¡¯t he made that abundantly clear?


    But he only said: ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How do you think this battle would have turned out if the timing had been different?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d have lost,¡± David replied, still wondering where the old general was going with this. ¡°On the other hand, if the attack had happened just one day later, Greg would have been back with the elders he found at the Argentum Formation, which would have turned the fight back in our favour.¡±


    ¡°So if you had to fight the same battle tonight, how do you think it would go?¡±


    David paused. ¡°As in, we get a message that there¡¯s a second fleet coming right now, with no reinforcements beyond who we have here at the keep? We¡¯d probably lose. Half our werewolves are too injured to fight, we have no more of the incendiary cannonballs or burning oil, and our fighting force of regular soldiers is down to a third of its original strength. Even three new elders and the fact that tonight isn¡¯t new moon won¡¯t make up for the sheer difference in numbers.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Clermont said. He looked at George Louis. ¡°How many human sacrifices did you destroy here?¡±


    ¡°There were eighty-two of them,¡± George Louis said.


    There was a hush around the table. David could see the other lords stare at him with raised eyebrows.


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    ¡°Eighty-two?¡± Clermont repeated, his voice full of doubt.


    ¡°At the very least, yes,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Because of the nature of these creatures, it was impossible to count them once they attacked. We could only count how many times we felt the priests sacrifice someone. They might have killed more than one victim at a time.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, you couldn¡¯t count them?¡± Marquess Rover asked. ¡°Surely a man standing up here in the keep with a spyglass would have been able to see all of them?¡±


    ¡°Any man standing up here, staring at them through a spyglass, would have lost his eyesight at best, his mind at worst,¡± George Louis said calmly. ¡°I suppose an elder werewolf would have been able to, but we didn¡¯t have any to spare for a duty that low of a priority.¡±


    The duke looked at Clermont, who was rubbing his chin.


    ¡°What do you think, Lord Clermont?¡± asked George Louis. ¡°Will you be part of this endeavour?¡±


    Clermont grimaced. ¡°Tell me, Your Highness, your men have barely beaten back the Valoise once, when all they sent was four small ships. What makes you so certain that you might be able to do it again when you might be facing a force three of four times as big?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be stronger, next time.¡±


    ¡°They could easily be back next new moon. You truly think your ¨C assets ¨C will have recovered by then?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll have recovered enough,¡± George Louis said firmly.


    Clermont promptly looked at David. ¡°Do you concur with this statement?¡±


    David hesitated only a second. ¡°If you give me a month to prepare the battleground, I¡¯ll take on a couple of hundred of those human sacrifices right here.¡±


    Silence fell around the table. Even Marquess Rover, who¡¯d been speaking to his aide, fell silent.


    ¡°That seems ¨C overly optimistic,¡± Clermont said dryly.


    ¡°Hardly,¡± David said. ¡°True, we¡¯re down three elder werewolves, but we have three even more powerful ones to replace them. More importantly, if the Valoise really do try again next month, we¡¯ll know what is coming. We¡¯ve learned that the giant Rot monsters aren¡¯t particularly fast, so we can lay charges around the Castle against them. With enough warning, fresh soldiers, and some of the younger werewolves recovered, I am positive that we can hold Oldstone Castle. Or any other fortified city in Loegrion.¡±


    Clermont stared at David a little longer, before he turned back towards the duke. ¡°I fail to see what you even want me for. I am not a commander of monsters, nor have I ever fought an army of the Rot as your man here has. You seem to have all you need right there, Your Highness.¡±


    David laughed when the old general gesticulated towards him.


    ¡°Hardly, Lord Clermont. I am not a commander of men, and that is what we will need once the Grande Arm¨¦e lands here, rather than a handful of mage priests. I have never come up with a plan of attack that involved more than fifty people, nor have I ever dealt with the logistics of a military campaign. My whole knowledge of conventional warfare stems from history books, and I didn¡¯t particularly care for them.¡±


    The old general looked at him again, and suddenly, a smile appeared on his face, made lopsided by the scars.


    ¡°A man who knows his limits. Fine, then,¡± he said, extending his right hand. ¡°I can lead the conventional armies of Loegrion. But you will have to deal with the werewolves and all the other supernatural stuff. Agreed?¡±


    That was not what David had expected. But when he glanced over to George Louis, the duke gave a tiny but urgent nod.


    Well, he had already promised Morgulon, anyway, hadn¡¯t he?


    So David gripped the offered hand: ¡°Agreed.¡±


    George Louis couldn¡¯t quite hide his relief when they shook. In fact, there were a lot of lords all around the table exhaling deeply as if they had held their breaths on the old general¡¯s decision.


    ¡°Your Highness, you were also going to appoint a new head of the Loegrian Navy,¡± Marquess Rover said over the murmur. ¡°Has the decision been made yet?¡±


    David wanted to groan but bit his tongue instead. That explained why the two commodores D¡¯Aubigny and Giffard were also present. He had really hoped that George Louis would make this announcement sometime he wasn¡¯t around.


    ¡°Of course,¡± George Louis said. ¡°May I present to you the new First Lord of Admiralty, Admiral D¡¯Aubigny, and the new Fleet Commander ¨C though he will mostly be tasked with building said fleet ¨C Admiral Giffard.¡±


    David bit his tongue a second time, this time to stop himself from grinning like a loon at the shocked face of Marquess Rover. The only man even more surprised than the Marquess was Lord D¡¯Aubigny himself. Quite obviously, the duke had neglected to give him a warning in advance.


    Marquess Picot did beam at Marquess Rover and rapped the tabletop with his knuckles, which started a round of applause from everyone but Rover.


    ¡°I ¨Cthank you for your trust, Your Highness,¡± D¡¯Aubigny finally found his voice. He glanced over at Giffard, who nodded eagerly. ¡°We will, of course, serve Loegrion to the best of our abilities in these difficult times ahead.¡±


    George Louis accepted that with a mild smile. ¡°With these questions answered, perhaps it¡¯s time for a break,¡± he said. ¡°We shall continue this council after lunch.¡±


    David jumped a little and stared at the clock in the corner of the room. It was, indeed, already noon.


    Marquess Rover just sat there, looking shocked, while everyone else filtered out of the room. David headed downstairs straight away, glad for the chance to stretch his legs more than out of hunger.


    He spotted Andrew in the refectory, sitting at a table close to the door. With a plate of today¡¯s stew, he sat across from his brother.


    ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± Andrew wanted to know before he had taken the first bite.


    David grimaced and quickly surmised what had happened. Andrew thought it was all rather funny, of course.


    ¡°If you aren¡¯t careful, George Louis will have you run all of Loegrion by the time the war is over,¡± he warned, grinning. ¡°I bet if you play your cards right, he¡¯ll make you Prime Minister, or something.¡±


    ¡°And if I play them wrong, he¡¯ll have ample reason to foist the blame for anything that goes badly on me,¡± David groused, and quickly changed the topic: ¡°How¡¯s Nathan?¡±


    ¡°Same idiot as ever,¡± Andrew said and smiled unhappily. ¡°The healers kicked me out an hour ago because he keeps demanding I take him outside again, even though he tore open that chest wound yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Great.¡±


    ¡°As I said, same as usual. And, just so you know ¨C there¡¯s a bunch of herbalists setting up shop in the courtyard outside. Alchemists, too, and some tinkerer selling silver amulets, ¡®guaranteed¡¯ to keep the Rot away. And even the stuff that actually works is completely overprized, one of the healers said.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± David repeated. ¡°Make sure you let the soldiers know?¡±


    Andrew waved that away with his spoon. ¡°The soldiers are far more interested in the women that came to sell their services, and the cart with the beer. No, the issue is that the healers could actually use some of that stuff the herbalists sell. Also, I think there¡¯s someone who¡¯s got a question for you.¡± Andrew looked at someone behind David. ¡°Boris, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    David turned in his seat far enough to spot a very nervous werewolf.


    ¡°Have a seat,¡± Andrew already said. ¡°We don¡¯t bite.¡±


    The guy stared at him with a hint of panic.


    ¡°That was a joke,¡± Andrew sighed. ¡°Seriously, have a seat, we¡¯re eating.¡±


    The werewolf sat down, leaving two empty seats between himself and David. After a moment he seemed to realize that this would require him to shout his question over the general noise of the refectory. David decided to just wait until he made up his mind and turned towards his bowl of stew.


    When he complained to Andrew: ¡°This is nearly as bad as Nathan¡¯s cooking,¡± his brother wordlessly reached into a pocket and offered him a salt shaker with a cap on top.


    By the time David had added some modicum of seasoning to the bland food, Boris had made up his mind and taken the seat next to him, but pushed it as far away as the other chairs would allow. David glanced over to him. The werewolf nervously tugged at the uniform he¡¯d been given, and then blurted out: ¡°They¡¯re breaking up our pack.¡±


    David paused, his spoon halfway raised to his mouth. He finished the movement, put the spoon down, and waved the werewolf to go on while he chewed.


    ¡°They want Bernadette to stay here until she¡¯s better, but they want me to go back to the railway tomorrow, with that new elder, Ragna. And Fleur is to go to Deva.¡±


    ¡°Who said that?¡± Andrew asked, before David could.


    Boris wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°One of the duke¡¯s men,¡± was the best answer he could give. ¡°Two of them went around this morning, when they handed out the uniforms, to tell us our new ¨C new deployment, they called it.¡±


    David groaned. ¡°I¡¯ll figure out what that¡¯s about,¡± he promised Boris. ¡°Can you write?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C uh, yes?¡±


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll need a list of all the packs and their members. Give it to Andrew so he can pass it on to me right away.¡±


    That gave Andrew pause, too. ¡°You want me to just barge into that council meeting?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said. ¡°If George Louis wants me to deal with everything werewolf-related, he¡¯s going to have to live with that, and if the first werewolves are to move tomorrow, we better get this sorted quickly.¡±


    Boris looked at Andrew uncertainly, but said. ¡°I¡¯m going to need something to write on.¡±


    ¡°Ask a quartermaster. Tell them I sent you. If they give you crap about it, find Andrew,¡± David added, before Boris could protest. ¡°But I don¡¯t think they will.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C thanks. I¡¯ll get to that.¡±


    Boris almost jumped out of his seat and hurried away.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to need an aide of your own,¡± Andrew noted.


    ¡°Are you volunteering?¡±


    Andrew puffed out his lips. ¡°Ask Nathan first,¡± he suggested. ¡°That¡¯d give him something to do. Keep him from brooding.¡±


    David shook his head. ¡°Nathan would hate that job. And he¡¯d be awful at it, too.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate him,¡± Andrew said.

 Chapter 77

    After lunch, once he was back at the council, David watched one of George Louis¡¯s secretaries hand out stacks of papers to the nobles around the table. Nathan wouldn¡¯t be able to do so for a while, even with crutches. And even if he were physically capable of it, David just couldn¡¯t see his brother in that role. It wasn¡¯t that Nathan wasn¡¯t smart enough for it. But sitting or standing still for any length of time was just not something he enjoyed or was any good at. Nathan was great at a trail, at pursuing a target. Not at lying in wait.


    To say nothing of his social graces once he got impatient.


    David stifled a yawn while a clerk went over the output of bone ash and excrements of Loegrion¡¯s cities, apparently the main sources of the burning element the alchemists needed to create the incendiary cannon balls. The clerk glared at him when Andrew walked in, as agreed, to hand David four sheets of paper covered in names.


    Everyone else stared at David, too, when Andrew hurried outside again.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± David said. His smile probably wasn¡¯t very convincing as he added: ¡°An unrelated matter. Just a small issue with the werewolf-deployment. Please, do continue.¡±


    The clerk did, and David studied the pages. Boris had noted down all the packs and solitary werewolves on the first couple of pages, and on the second two, where each werewolf had been ordered to go. He had even helpfully underlined each werewolf who was getting separated from their pack and also included their age.


    From what David could see, there wasn¡¯t a single group that wouldn¡¯t lose at least one member.


    He frowned and leaved back to the first page. Alvin was on the ¡°unaligned¡± list, but Chandler the forger, Millie, and Clyde were listed together.


    How strongly bonded could a pack of four-month-old werewolves possibly be?


    On the other hand, they had shared a prison, if not a cell, for every day of those four months.


    Jody, Mia, and Chester were to be split up, too.


    The backside of the last page was headlined: ¡°Werewolves younger than five months.¡±


    ¡°Not just a small issue?¡± George Louis asked in a whisper when David frowned again.


    ¡°Yes.¡± David stared at the papers again and wanted to swear. He hadn¡¯t realized just how young some of the werewolves George Louis had brought here from Deva were.


    And how should they deal with the pack-issue?


    Greg hadn¡¯t mentioned if the four elders had been troubled at the thought of leaving their packs behind, but they were elders, after all. Nathan had described Greg¡¯s own reaction to the possibility of losing his pack as quite strong. And Greg had gone to check on Bernadette first, upon arriving at Oldstone Castle, before even checking on Nathan. As if she was family, too.


    ¡°Why are you separating the werewolves into three groups?¡±


    ¡°In a moment,¡± George Louis assured him softly. The duke turned back to the clerk, who was now droning on about the iron and steel production of Sheaf and the nearby towns, and finally finished with the coal output from Mannin.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± George Louis said. ¡°As you can see, gentlemen, we are not lacking for the basic resources of war. What we do need more of are guns, and cannons, and ammunitions. We will need to turn all our industries towards those so that every loyal son of Loegrion can be armed towards the coming war. We are not entirely without allies, too. The free Norsemen of Fylke are sympathetic to our cause, and already, people from the Empire¡¯s colonies are landing at our coasts.¡±


    ¡°Refugees,¡± spat Marquess Rover. ¡°They¡¯re hardly worth the cost of feeding them!¡±


    ¡°Quite the contrary,¡± said a man who David didn¡¯t know. His family was clearly not native to Loegrion, judging from his light brown skin and black hair. ¡°Food, Loegrion has in abundance. This year¡¯s harvest was quite bountiful, thanks to the new protector of the White Torrent. The next is sure to be even better, now that we know how to keep the Rot away from our fields. Growing a man capable of bearing arms takes far longer than growing wheat, though. Any man brave enough to make the journey should be welcomed.¡±


    ¡°My thoughts exactly, Marques deLambert,¡± George Louis said.


    ¡°But if we are to turn all our industries to war, how will you pay for our goods, Your Highness?¡± Marquess Picot asked. ¡°Or has Clyde¡¯s Pass agreed to give you credit after all?¡±


    ¡°Clyde¡¯s Pass hasn¡¯t answered my request yet. They¡¯re no doubt waiting for a better offer, fools that they are,¡± George Louis said. ¡°I will not need their credit at all.¡±


    ¡°How come, Your Highness?¡±


    George Louis looked around the table, steepling his fingers. ¡°As most of you will be aware, Mannin was the last city to fall to the Valoise,¡± he said. ¡°What fewer people know is that parts of the old Royal Archives were sent to Mannin from Deva, subsequently falling to my ancestors.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to pay us in books?¡± Marquess Rover interrupted with a sneer.


    ¡°I am going to pay in information.¡±


    ¡°What information could possibly be that valuable?¡±


    George Louis smiled, clearly enjoying himself. ¡°How about the exact locations of all the abandoned silver mines in the Argentum Formation?¡±


    There was a moment of silence around the table. Silver wasn¡¯t gold, true, but it was sure to be in high demand.


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    ¡°I might even be persuaded,¡± George Louis continued, ¡°if a vassal was to prove extraordinarily loyal, to hand out some of the mapped gold deposits of the Central Ranges included in the archives.¡±


    David grinned inwardly at the even deeper silence all around the table. Everyone knew ¨C or believed ¨C that the Central Ranges were full of gold. It hardly even mattered if George Louis truly did know where to find some. Credit was about credibility. As long as the nobles and the banks believed that he had the maps, his credit would be good.


    ¡°Or perhaps some people would prefer gemstones,¡± the duke finished.


    Lord Clermont broke the silence with a snigger. ¡°I¡¯d like some rubies,¡± he said, his good eye full of mirth.


    George Louis nodded at him. ¡°I¡¯ll see what can be done.¡± He turned back to the rest of the room and clapped his hands. ¡°Gentlemen,¡± he said, ¡°money is not the obstacle. I will reward loyalty royally. There will be silver, gold, and gemstones, and shares to the railway lines to Silverford, Clyde¡¯s Pass and beyond.¡±


    He looked up from the lords to their aides, standing at the back of the room. ¡°There will also be government positions, and for the most outstanding deeds, I will grant lands and titles, regardless of a man¡¯s, or indeed, woman¡¯s, birth.¡±


    ¡°And where will that land be?¡± one lord asked. ¡°There¡¯s little left unclaimed of the heartlands.¡±


    David could see at least one of the aides roll his eyes at the question. George Louis just smiled, and said: ¡°Don¡¯t think so small, Lord Fell! The whole valley of the Abhain was once settled. Sweet apples and golden peaches came from its shores, before they were overrun with the Rot. As soon as the war is over, the Abhain will be cleansed, and I will finance an expedition of werewolves to find and cleanse the well of the Savre. The Man and Hafren likewise. The Stour-valley might be reclaimed before the Grande Arm¨¦e even reaches our shores. I, for one, am looking forward to some home-grown wines.¡±


    David looked up at George Louis and then back down at the list of werewolves.


    ¡°That¡¯s where this third group of werewolves is going?¡± he asked.


    George Louis nodded. ¡°Unless that issue you mentioned proves unsolvable, the plan as it stands is this: Half the werewolves will be stationed along the coast. As I do not have any intelligence from our spies at Rambouillet that another attack is imminent, this group will be largely made up of those werewolves injured in battle. They will stay here, at Oldstone Castle, until they¡¯re recovered, and then be placed at postings in Deggan, Breachpoint, King¡¯s Haven, and strategic places between the cities. I see you have an issue with that.¡±


    David nodded, but asked: ¡°The other two groups are to go to the railway and Deva, is that right?¡±


    George Louis nodded. ¡°It is my understanding that the railway has been ¨C overstaffed, so to speak, and that three elders there should be enough, as long as each crew has younger werewolves.¡±


    David glanced at the list again. Ragna was slated down for the railway, together with Boris and Chester. From what he could see, all the other werewolves were Greg¡¯s age or even younger.


    ¡°In theory, what you propose is possible, I suppose,¡± he said. ¡°But this,¡± he raised the list, ¡°isn¡¯t going to work. Right now, you have only have one actual elder at the line, two solid werewolves who¡¯re still far from being elders, and a bunch of barely stable ones.¡±


    ¡°Well, figure something out,¡± George Louis said. ¡°I want two more groups of solid fighters, one smaller one to protect Deva, and a larger one to cleanse the Stour.¡±


    David stared at the duke. Everyone else was looking at him, and there was something in George Louis¡¯s gaze that told him that ¡°No way,¡± was not an acceptable answer right now.


    David sighed inwardly and looked back down at the paper. ¡°You want the railway group to move out tomorrow?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Ideally.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I need to talk to the man who made the current groupings, and I need maps with the planned stationing at the coast, and of the Stour-valley.¡± He pushed out of his seat when George Louis waved at one of his men. ¡°Please excuse me, gentlemen.¡±


    To his surprise, Lord Clermont got up as well. ¡°I have a feeling there¡¯s a lot to learn about werewolves there,¡± he told George Louis and followed David and the adjutant outside without waiting for an answer.


    The very young lieutenant nervously wrung his hands as he led the way down the corridor. He looked like he couldn¡¯t be much older than Greg.


    ¡°Perhaps, if you can tell me what the issue is, I can sort this out, Lord Feleke?¡± he asked.


    David shook his head. ¡°There are several issues with this plan, and some of them aren¡¯t easily explained.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to hear them anyway,¡± Lord Clermont said.


    The lieutenant opened a door. ¡°In here, Your Lordships,¡± he told them. ¡°I¡¯ll get the maps you requested. And another chair.¡±


    The room was fairly small, filled mostly by a large empty table and cases full of documents all around. There were only one chair and a stool which was probably for reaching the highest bookshelves rather than sitting.


    David let the old general have the chair and shuffled his lists again, waiting until the nervous young man had done as he had said.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± David asked, sitting down in the seat a soldier had carried for the lieutenant.


    ¡°Uh, Fletcher, Sir. James Fletcher.¡±


    ¡°Congratulation, Lieutenant Fletcher. Take that stool and listen, I¡¯ll make sure that you¡¯re given responsibility for all werewolf-related rosters in the future.¡±


    Fletcher opened and closed his mouth. ¡°Uh, shouldn¡¯t someone more experienced...¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only one clerk with any experience regarding werewolves in all of Loegrion, and he¡¯s chained to his desk at the Lackland Company,¡± David said wryly. ¡°You¡¯ll do fine. Now, first issue: You need proper elders to guard the railway navvies. Elder means one hundred full moons, or roughly eight years. Second issue, some werewolves form packs. Here¡¯s a list of the packs currently in existence. Do try not to break up these units.¡±


    He took a deep breath while Fletcher made notes in a small book.


    ¡°What would happen if we do break up a pack?¡± Clermont asked.


    David decided to give him an honest answer. ¡°We don¡¯t know for certain yet. It¡¯s unlikely to improve their performance, though, and may have negative long-term ramifications to their well-being.¡±


    ¡°But it won¡¯t make them go ¨C wild, will it?¡± Fletcher asked.


    ¡°That ¨C is extremely unlikely,¡± David said slowly. He considered, for about a second, lying and pretending that there was still a risk, but then decided against it. The werewolves surely needed people to trust them more than they needed the packs, so he added: ¡°There are no records of any werewolf going mad after their fourth full moon transformation.¡±


    Fletcher noted that down, too.


    ¡°That brings us to the third and most urgent issue: Some of the werewolves here at Oldstone Castle are just over two months old. They may not be stable. They should not be freely walking around the keep at all. The scientists at Deva did a study, I¡¯ll have someone mail you a copy if you want.¡±


    ¡°Uh, thanks? But we also received reports from First Camp? They said that their stable werewolves subdued and killed the other ones?¡± Fletcher asked.


    ¡°Oh, hell.¡± David groaned and rubbed his face. ¡°Look. Yes, my brother was able to defend the workers at First Camp against three mad ones, but it was plain luck that Greg is big, even for a werewolf, and wasn¡¯t hurt severely in the fight. When sane werewolves fight mad ones, only strength, and size, and weight matter. A two-week-old mad werewolf can permanently cripple or even kill a ten-year-old elder. Do not use sane werewolves as guards against the mad ones. They¡¯re too valuable.¡±


    He pushed the list of eighteen names over to Fletcher. ¡°Everyone on this list needs to be placed under guard immediately, inside a cell, if at all possible.¡±


    ¡°You mean right now?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I mean right now. It¡¯s three days after new moon. If there¡¯s a spreader hiding amongst them, they¡¯ll transform at sundown and start biting every human in sight.¡±


    Fletcher paled visibly and grabbed the list. ¡°I ¨C yes, let me find... I¡¯ll be back!¡±


    ¡°Talk to my brother Andrew!¡± David called after him.

 Chapter 78

    ¡°His Highness should have more hunters on staff to avoid stuff like this,¡± General Clermont noted when the door closed behind Fletcher.


    ¡°He should,¡± David agreed. ¡°But it¡¯s not that easy to find reliable people who first made it their life to hunt werewolves and are now willing to work with them. Most hunters did it as a side-job, sticking only to the areas surrounding their homes. Few of those were particularly professional about it. Half of those that did make it their profession are religious fanatics, and the other half ¨C you generally don¡¯t start hunting if you have any other skills that are valued by society.¡±


    David studied the papers Fletcher had given him. The lieutenant''s list was alphabetized and included which werewolves were injured, something Boris hadn¡¯t written down. so David put it next to the list with the packs, and then turned to the map that showed where George Louis wanted werewolves stationed along the coast.


    He shook his head, thinking over what else George Louis wanted. With Morgulon out, Rust staying at the coast, and Fenn going back to the White Torrent, they didn¡¯t even have enough healthy elders to properly protect the railway navvies, let alone to form up a team to cleanse the Stour. Bernadette and Dale wouldn¡¯t be able to fight for a while.


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡± Clermont asked.


    David eyed the old general, wondering how much he should even tell the man. Was he really trustworthy? The pamphlet hadn¡¯t included how werewolves grew stronger with age, because Mr. Higgins had pointed out that it wouldn¡¯t comfort people to know that. Now he was incredibly glad for that. Keeping that information as secret as possible would be vital.


    ¡°We need another elder for the railway,¡± he said after a moment.


    ¡°What about that Neville guy, here? He¡¯s marked down as nine years old and not injured.¡±


    David hesitated. Neville was supposed to go back and tell his old pack that everything was fine. But maybe someone else could do that?


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said slowly. ¡°I suppose we can send Lee into the mountains instead.¡±


    ¡°Why would you do that?¡± Clermont asked, frowning, looking at the name David marked.


    ¡°That was the deal.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re humouring them too much,¡± Clermont grumbled. ¡°If you have to send someone, make it one that¡¯s expendable. How about this one? Marc, eight months old.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because Marc is a seven-year-old child in his human form, with a bad leg.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like one you won¡¯t miss then.¡± Lord Clermont turned his nose up at David¡¯s shocked face. ¡°You do realize that we¡¯re at war with the bloody Empire, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am aware,¡± David growled back.


    ¡°Then you should know that this is not the time for kindness. Can you imagine what the Valoise will do to us if we lose? Have you ever heard of what happened when the Ferees rebelled?¡±


    David returned his gaze coolly. ¡°Lord Clermont, have you ever heard of the concept of propaganda?¡± He didn¡¯t give the old man a chance to answer before he pressed on: ¡°On his way to the Argentum Formation and back, my brother came across more than twenty elders. Only three of them came back with him. Can you imagine what a force of twenty elders could do to our odds of winning this war? There¡¯s one who¡¯s more than sixty years old somewhere in the Central Ranges. He probably could have fought the battle here all on his own. Do you really think that having one four-year-old werewolf more or less is worth ruining our chances at getting allies like that?¡±


    Clermont still frowned. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go after them yourself then? Catch some alive?¡±


    ¡°And how would we force them to fight?¡± David asked. ¡°Will you stand behind them with a loaded crossbow while they fight the Rot? If you do shoot them, how will you survive the Rot?¡±


    Lord Clermont didn¡¯t look entirely convinced, but he nodded slowly. ¡°So you¡¯re trying to win them over instead.¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s why Lee is a good choice ¨C he knows me, we worked together before.¡±


    ¡°They all do, don¡¯t they?¡±


    David sighed. ¡°They all know me a little, yes. But the youngest ones only know me as a guy who helps them ¨C provided they don¡¯t turn savage. Lee remembers me as ¡°the Relentless,¡± too. As the werewolf-equivalent of the Inquisition. He¡¯ll understand their fears much better than, for example, Alvin.¡±


    Clermont ran a finger down the list until he found Alvin¡¯s name. ¡°I see,¡± he said softly, and stared at David again with his one dark eye. ¡°But still ¨C His Highness just declared that money is no object. Shouldn¡¯t it be easy to win over a group of people who own so little?¡±


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    ¡°Most of them won¡¯t touch silver,¡± David said. ¡°And I¡¯m sure you can imagine what kind of trouble it would earn the duke with his human followers if he were to hand out gold or land or titles to them.¡±


    Lord Clermont grimaced and nodded.


    ¡°So all we have to hand out right now is the promise of some copper, free food and clothes, a tent ¨C sometimes a bed ¨C and hopes of a better future,¡± David added. ¡°Which is not a whole lot, considering what we¡¯re asking of them.¡±


    Clermont stared down at the list of names again and didn¡¯t say anything more. They both looked up when Fletcher returned.


    ¡°Any troubles?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Two of them didn¡¯t want to get locked up,¡± Fletcher said. ¡°Lord Andrew is watching them now. But the rest came quite willingly. Surprisingly so, really.¡±


    ¡°They know what¡¯s at stake,¡± David shrugged, and turned back to the task at hand.


    He didn¡¯t like the gamble George Louis was proposing ¨C leaving the coast nearly unguarded, beyond those werewolves currently too injured to fight. They would be fully dependent on their spies in Rambouillet.


    But they had no hope in hell of holding the coastline anyway, did they, if the Valoise really managed a surprise attack. Or if they attacked not just at one or two, but several places at once. So there was really no point in wasting resources trying, was there?


    Right then.


    Rust would have to lead the group that was to cleanse the Stour, and all their youngest werewolves would get placed along the northern coast in small groupings. They wouldn¡¯t be able to fight off more than a couple of Rot-brutes, but to a Valoisian spy, it should look as if they had werewolves everywhere. And really, without a priest or powerful magic, a brute should be the biggest thing even sabotage should create, anyway.


    David could only pray that it would be enough to deter a second attack, at least until Bernadette was recovered. As soon as she was, he¡¯d suggest to George Louis to have Bernadette and pack replace Ragna, place the woman from Fylke near the coast instead...


    As long as they got enough of a warning, they¡¯d be fine, David told himself again. But he still shuddered every now and then.


    ¡°Will you tell me by what criteria you are grouping them, Sir?¡± Fletcher asked after David noted down the first names, one group for King¡¯s Haven, and one group for a small fishing town a little further south.


    ¡°This is an established pairing,¡± David said, pointing at the two names next to King¡¯s Haven. ¡°They¡¯re both four years old, which makes them fairly powerful. I¡¯m placing them here because King¡¯s Haven is both an important city and close to the northern wilds.¡±


    ¡°But you put down four names for Grothmouth, which really isn¡¯t important at all.¡±


    ¡°Three names and a maybe,¡± David corrected. ¡°These three are only four months old each, and this one isn¡¯t even proven stable yet. Together, these four will still be weaker than either one of the two I placed at King¡¯s Haven. I also made it a group of men only, because I happen to remember that this guy here was charged with beating his wife in the past.¡±


    Fletcher¡¯s face fell. ¡°I¡¯ll have to take stuff like that into account, too?¡±


    ¡°I would advise you to,¡± David said. ¡°Provided you can even find information like that. Remember that these are specialist workers rather than ordinary soldiers. You can¡¯t always discipline them like soldiers, so you¡¯ll have to find workarounds for that.¡± He paused and added: ¡°To a point, I mean. Use your best judgement.¡±


    He placed Porter and Ruadh as far apart as possible, too.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t humour them so much,¡± Clermont complained, again, when David explained about the enmity between them.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t, if we had more werewolves,¡± David said. ¡°But we don¡¯t. These two have been known to attack each other. A soldier can be locked up until he sees sense, but if you do that with your only two werewolves, you¡¯re without protection. So until we have more of them, we need to give them leeway we wouldn¡¯t otherwise.¡±


    ¡°What if my best judgement says that I gave enough leeway and a line has been crossed?¡± Fletcher wanted to know.


    ¡°Then you find a judge authorized to sit trial over the werewolf in question or petition His Highness for a crown warrant. Ideally, you also have the offender locked up. That way you¡¯ll only need to find an executioner rather than a hunter.¡±


    ¡°And what if they escape?¡± Clermont asked.


    ¡°Then they¡¯ll be hunted down,¡± David said.


    ¡°By whom?¡±


    ¡°By me, if necessary.¡±


    Clermont sniffed. ¡°I¡¯ll believe that when I see it.¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to witness it. I reckon I¡¯ll be taking down the two who refused to enter their cages, tomorrow or the day after at the latest.¡±


    Clermont stared at him with that one dark eye. David blinked back, too tired of this whole conversation to make it a contest.


    After a second, the old general looked away, and David returned to the map, telling Fletcher everything he thought might be useful to the young man. Unfortunately, he only knew a third of the werewolves on the roster.


    ¡°Can I request the records of the convicts?¡± Fletcher asked. ¡°So I¡¯ll know what their crimes were?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± David said. To his surprise, Fletcher jumped from his stool at that and rummaged through one of the bookcases full of papers. He opened one binder, pulled out a sheet, and returned to the table. He filled in some blanks and then pushed it over to David.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need a signature,¡± he said. ¡°And a seal.¡±


    David paused. He wanted to laugh, or maybe hit himself that he hadn¡¯t seen this coming. He had no idea what authority he even had to sign official documents, but Fletcher seemed certain that his signature and seal would do.


    He did not, actually, have a seal. Not even a fancy ring with a nice engraving. Instead, after signing and dropping a blob of the wax Fletcher helpfully provided onto the document, he reached for the quiver ¨C which he wore because he felt naked without it ¨C and pulled out a bolt with a slightly deformed point. He pushed the silvertip into the hot wax, which made Clermont grin. With all the scars, David couldn¡¯t tell if it was mocking or not.


    George Louis showed up just as they had finally finished the deployments. He wanted to look them over, but didn¡¯t say much. Instead, he patted David¡¯s shoulder and frowned at the document with David¡¯s ¡°seal¡± that was still lying next to the maps.


    David followed him outside.


    ¡°Am I correct in assuming you will want to go to Courtenay with your brothers for a few days?¡±


    ¡°Brines,¡± David said. ¡°Morgulon will come, too.¡±


    George Louis¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Splendid,¡± he said. ¡°I was going to return to Eoforwic, too, to check on the Company. We can travel together. I hope you will join us for the ceremony at Breachpoint tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°What ceremony?¡±


    ¡°I promised the fish a feast, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± David yawned. ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll be there.¡±


    Sun ¨C or moon, or whatever ¨C he was tired.


    And the war had only just begun.

 Chapter 79

    David woke up way too early. He couldn¡¯t even have said why. Andrew, Nathan, and Greg were still sound asleep around him. Lane probably, too, but she had been put up with the other women, so he couldn¡¯t be sure.


    David yawned and turned onto his other side, to try and go back to sleep. He¡¯d been up much longer last night than he had meant to, watching the eighteen juvenile werewolves in their cages, and he was tired. But sleep was elusive, and after he threw himself around the third time and almost woke Nathan, David gave up. He got dressed quietly and left the infirmary, which was stuffy with the smell of some herbs the healers were burning, until he stood in the door to the courtyard and could inhale the cool night air.


    The courtyard was transformed, filled with the large carts of travelling merchants, just as Andrew had mentioned. Right now, all the shutters were closed, and all the wares hidden. The only light came from a handful of torches and the very first, cold, grey light of morning.


    The only sound came from behind him, a soft but permeating, steady whine that echoed up the stairs and filled the empty main hall of the keep. A second voice became audible when David walked down the stairs to the dungeon, this one a growl, raising and falling with each step he took. When he rounded the corner, he saw a third werewolf that was chewing at her bars, even though they were solid steel. There were bits of broken teeth laying on the ground, and blood stained the fur around her muzzle.


    David sighed to himself.


    There was no hope for her. And it probably wouldn¡¯t be a kindness, either, to wait.


    Just one night ago, she had been a scared woman, still entering her cage willingly. There had been nothing special about her, but David remembered her frightened face clearly.


    He walked down the rows of cells slowly. Some of the werewolves inside were sleeping despite the noise but most were awake. One young woman had curled in on herself and moaned: ¡°Please, someone make them shut up.¡±


    When David stopped at her cell, slightly surprised, she looked up and her mouth fell open in horror.


    David didn¡¯t say anything, just walked on. At the very end of the corridor, right before the one where Morgulon had given birth, there was another cell with blood glistening on the steel bars. This werewolf had tried to push his human head through until he had ripped nearly all his hair out and his skin was raw. He was still pushing, moaning quietly to himself. Only after a few seconds did he notice David. The moan became a snarl, and he threw himself forwards, crashing face-first into the grille, reaching with claw-like fingers.


    David stood there for a few minutes, looking back down the hallway. Four werewolves, all gone mad in just one night. He didn¡¯t even want to imagine what might have happened if he hadn¡¯t told Fletcher to have them all locked up.


    There was really no point in drawing this out, so he walked back upstairs to find George Louis. The duke was not amused when David had him woken. David wasn¡¯t particularly sympathetic.


    ¡°Sun, David, do what you must,¡± George Louis eventually grumbled. ¡°You of all people don¡¯t need me to sign a warrant first.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to have that written down somewhere, if it¡¯s all the same to you,¡± David gave back. ¡°And I want a copy, too.¡±


    George Louis glared at him, tightening his dressing gown around himself. After a minute of David just standing there, waiting, the duke sighed. ¡°Fine, fine, you¡¯re right,¡± he yawned, and yelled for a servant, ordering him to bring some briefcase and ink.


    When the servant walked out again, George Louis sat down on his bed and patted the mattress. ¡°You¡¯re in a hurry?¡± he asked, all the anger gone from his voice. ¡°You¡¯re always welcome to join me, you know.¡±


    David didn¡¯t even look in his direction. ¡°I¡¯m about to kill four men and women who fought and risked their lives for us,¡± he said coldly.


    George Louis fell quiet at that. ¡°You know, I can make someone else do it,¡± he offered after a moment, voice serious now.


    ¡°Like the executioner at Eoforwic, who couldn¡¯t even aim properly? Alvin told me it took Spencer over an hour to die. No thanks. The least we owe them is a swift death.¡±


    ¡°As you wish,¡± George Louis sighed.


    The servant returned with a leather-bound folder and something to write with. George Louis got up from the bed and walked over to the table, leaved through the folder, and pulled out a pre-written document, added something at the top, signed it at the bottom, and added his own seal. A proper seal.


    ¡°Here,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Will that do? This¡¯ll permit you to issue crown warrants for werewolves on your own authority, and follow through on them.¡±


    David scanned the text and nodded. ¡°Thanks,¡± he said.


    ¡°Come back up here when ¨C when you¡¯re done. I have something else.¡±


    David nodded and walked out. He dropped the accreditation off safely with his other stuff before going down to the cells again.


    Lord Clermont was staring at the she-wolf who was still chewing at the bars when David returned.


    ¡°You¡¯re up early, for a civilian,¡± the old general greeted him.


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    David ignored him. ¡°Have the keys to the cells ready,¡± he told a guardsman and took his crossbow off his back, checking it over with a glance.


    He wanted to tell the she-wolf who was still trying to bite through the bars that he was sorry, wanted to apologize ¨C but that was pointless.


    As he had said to George Louis, the only kindness he could give her now was a quick death.


    She made it easy, standing pressed up to the prison bars like that. He aimed carefully and shot her right behind the shoulder blade, then reached with his silver knife into the cell to cut her throat.


    The werewolf in the next cell retreated, eyes rolling with terror, and struggled to turn human. David walked past him without looking at his staggering, contorted form, to the cell where a wolf was still keeping up that steady whine that cut like a saw in David¡¯s ears. He, too, attacked the bars at the humans¡¯ approach.


    David shot him with his second bolt, hitting the chest again. ¡°Keys!¡± he yelled at the guard.


    The man opened the gate slower than necessary because he kept glancing at David. Even Lord Clermont inhaled sharply when David marched into the cell to put the poor creature out of its misery.


    Two down, two to go. He felt sick, and disgusted with himself. His fingers shook slightly when he placed a new quarrel in the nut and used a spanning lever to tighten the string in one swift motion. His aim was perfectly steady, though, when he shot the third werewolf. This time, the guard didn¡¯t hesitate to open the door for him.


    The other werewolves kept very, very quiet, all of them in their human forms now, half of them naked. David walked past them as if he couldn¡¯t see, to the last cell. At least the inmate didn¡¯t seem to realize what was coming for him. David wasn¡¯t sure if he could follow through if one of them should ever beg him to stop.


    And then it was over.


    ¡°Have the bodies taken out of here,¡± David ordered the guard. ¡°Make sure they¡¯re burned and buried properly. With the men who succumbed to their injuries.¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯ll keep away the Rot?¡± the guard asked back.


    Because that¡¯s what they deserve, David wanted to say. Instead, he nodded and said: ¡°Hopefully.¡±


    Whatever made them do it.


    He stayed just long enough to make sure that the order was passed on. He still ignored Clermont when he walked back towards and up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He didn¡¯t stop until he was standing in the courtyard, breathing the fresh morning air. By now, the castle was waking up and a bunch of soldiers were milling about, staring at him.


    He could still smell the blood.


    Probably because his hands were covered in it.


    ¡°That was impressive,¡± Lord Clermont said, stepping up beside him.


    David sniffed. ¡®Impressive¡¯ was the last word he¡¯d have used for what he had just done.


    ¡°If you want an old man¡¯s advise: go get yourself a drink.¡±


    David considered it. He was just about to shake his head when the old general grabbed his blood-soaked sleeve and pulled him over to the cart with the beer, surprisingly strong for a man his age. The owner was just opening up, fussing with his barrels. Lord Clermont towed David right up to the makeshift counter and banged his walking stick against it, making the proprietor spin around.


    ¡°You got anything stronger than beer?¡± Clermont asked.


    Even the barkeeper frowned at that question, pointedly staring towards the east, where the sun was just raising high enough to shine over the still damaged walls of the castle.


    ¡°Yes, I know what time it is,¡± the old general answered the unspoken question, and dropped a silver coin on the counter.


    The proprietor eyed the coin, then the old man, shrugged, and jumped off the cart, vanishing behind the back.


    ¡°Did you know them well?¡± Clermont asked David.


    David shook his head mutely. He wasn¡¯t sure he wouldn¡¯t throw up if he tried to speak.


    ¡°But they did fight with you against the Rot, didn¡¯t they? That¡¯s why you wanted their ashes buried with the other soldiers.¡±


    David nodded.


    Lord Clermont shook his head but this time made no comment about David being too nice. When the barman put down a glass in front of him and filled it with a clear liquid, he passed it on to David, almost pressing it into his hands.


    David hesitated only a second before downing it. It did settle his stomach somewhat.


    ¡°Another one?¡± Lord Clermont asked.


    David shook his head. The man on the cart had finally noticed the blood on his hands, so David pushed away before the guy could ask what had happened.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, without looking at Clermont.


    Again, the old man didn¡¯t have a cutting remark.


    ¡°I need to clean up and find out what else the duke needs me for,¡± David added. ¡°I expect you¡¯ll be coming to Breachpoint with us?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there, yes.¡±


    David left him standing in the courtyard. When he got to the keep¡¯s door, he had to wait to let the two soldiers pass who were carrying out one of the dead wolves.


    The smell of food coming from the refectory made him gag, so David barged up the stairs, ignoring the startled cries of the two nuns who had to jump out of his way. By the time he reached the infirmary for those soldiers still fighting death, he had mostly wrestled his stomach back down.


    A healer looked at him, noticed the blood on his hands, and came hurrying over.


    ¡°Not mine,¡± David forced out through gritted teeth. ¡°Werewolf blood. I need to wash up.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the healer said. He waved at one of the apprentices, and a moment later there was a large basin with scalding hot water in front of David, together with a bar of strong lye soap.


    David washed his hands and cursed softly when he realized how much he was still shaking. No wonder the healer was still standing next to the basin, watching him.


    ¡°Better get rid of the shirt, too,¡± the man said while David was scrubbing his hands.


    David stared at the blood-drenched sleeves and then hurried to take the shirt off.


    ¡°Should I have that burned with our other dangerous wastes?¡± the healer asked. He calmly held out a hand but made sure he only touched the clean parts of the fabric when David gave the garment to him. He dropped it into the silver-coated bucket the apprentice had brought. Where the bloodstains touched the metal, the fabric began to sizzle. The young apprentice watched with surprise and curiosity until the healer gently turned him towards a large flame.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± David muttered and turned back to the wash-basin to get the blood off his wrists.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± the healer said. The old man watched him a moment longer and then took one of David¡¯s hands in both of his before he could scrub the skin raw. ¡°That¡¯ll do,¡± he added. ¡°I realize this is not a good moment to ask, but I need to know: Are our patients still safe to be around?¡±


    David blinked and only now realized that most of the soldiers who still needed the healers¡¯ care had been so badly injured that Morgulon had bitten them.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be fine until the first night of full moon.¡±


    ¡°And after that?¡± the healer wanted to know, offering David a clean cloth to dry his hands.


    ¡°Chances are fifty-fifty after that,¡± David said, and then remembered the latest journal he had received. ¡°Unless ¨C¡°


    He paused himself. He probably shouldn¡¯t say that, should he? It had all worked out for Alvin and Chandler, but he probably shouldn¡¯t give these people hope so uncertain?


    ¡°Unless what?¡± the healer asked.


    David stared down at his hands, and lowered his voice: ¡°If they¡¯re very young, their chances might be slightly better.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± the healer said. ¡°But that is good news?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not certain,¡± David said, still speaking softly. ¡°I don¡¯t understand the details myself. I just receive reports from the learned men at Deva University, and there was an argument over the numbers in their last one.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± the healer said.

 Chapter 80

    David walked out of the infirmary shirtless, over to the room where Andrew, Nathan and Greg were just waking up. Technically, the place was an infirmary, too, but for less dire cases. The healers only walked through a couple of times a day to make sure no patient was getting worse, leaving the rest to the nuns.


    ¡°The hell have you been?¡± Andrew asked as David rummaged through the chest with their belongings. They shared one, because the keep still wasn¡¯t really ready for these many people, and space was tight.


    ¡°Basement cells,¡± David said roughly. His throat felt as if he¡¯d been shouting for hours.


    ¡°Why?¡± Andrew asked, bewildered.


    David stared at him.


    ¡°How many?¡± Greg asked, who had caught on faster.


    ¡°Four.¡±


    ¡°Four what?¡±


    ¡°Oh, wake up, Andrew,¡± Nathan sneered.


    ¡°Four mad werewolves,¡± Greg said quietly.


    ¡°Four dead werewolves, judging from David¡¯s lack of a shirt.¡±


    David bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snarling something at Nathan. It wouldn¡¯t help. He knew it wouldn¡¯t help. He knew that Nathan tended to spread his own misery around, especially if he couldn¡¯t go out and take a hike in the wilderness for whatever reason, and if someone fell for it and struck back verbally, it would only make things worse for everyone.


    David wished he could actually fight Nathan right now, because that might have helped them both, venting on someone who had absolutely no compulsion to pull their punches.


    Instead, he got dressed in the last clean shirt he had brought from Eoforwic, checked that he hadn¡¯t gotten any blood on the rest of his clothes and shoes, and walked out of the room again. He took the stairs to the top of the keep, but paused in front of the door to the suite where the duke resided. He was absolutely not in the mood for more of George Louis¡¯s attempts to woo him, so after a second, he asked the servants, who were standing next to the door arranging a platter with breakfast: ¡°He¡¯s finished dressing, hasn¡¯t he?¡±


    Wilfred, the duke¡¯s personal manservant, gave him a way too knowing look and nodded before pulling the door open.


    George Louis stood in front of his mirror when David entered. He was, indeed, dressed properly, but still examined a couple of hangers with clothes.


    ¡°Ah, David. Very good. What do you think?¡± he asked, hanging one of them over the mirror and then holding a jacket out for David.


    ¡°Red isn¡¯t really your colour,¡± David said because he¡¯d be dammed if he gave the man an excuse to undress.


    ¡°Luckily, I rather think it¡¯s yours,¡± George Louis said, unfazed. He took the coat off the hanger and tossed it at David, who caught it by reflex. ¡°There¡¯ll be a crowd. You¡¯ll need to look the part.¡±


    David stared at the garment. It was a darker red than the soldiers wore and more modern than their uniforms¡¯ cut, but the reference was quite clear.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the rest of it,¡± George Louis said, and took the second hanger from the mirror. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Did you actually bring a tailor?¡± David asked, a little confused by where these clothes came from. They were extremely well made. The riding coat he was holding was velvet, and he would have been willing to bet the shirt was silk. He tried the jacket on and found it fit well in the way only bespoke clothes could.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me this is something you had just lying around.¡±


    ¡°My tailor took your measurements from the dirty clothes you left at the house in Eoforwic a few weeks ago,¡± George Louis said, and he almost managed to hide how smug he was about that.


    David opened his mouth, closed it again. ¡°The clothes I wore when I killed those two werewolves? How much did you pay the poor man to even touch that bloody mess?¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± George Louis replied. He hung the clothes up again and pulled a chair out from the table. ¡°Will you let me see the rest of it?¡± he added, pointing at the screen that sectioned off a part of the room. ¡°I¡¯ll stay right here.¡±


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    David didn¡¯t quite trust his word on that, but he didn¡¯t feel like walking downstairs again to get changed, either. So he took the hanger from the mirror and walked behind the screen, kicking away his riding boots, and changed into the black riding breeches made of very fine wool. The shirt was silk as David had already guessed. The waistcoat was satin, also black, probably another nod to the uniforms George Louis¡¯s men wore. The Valoisian-oriented court fashion was usually more colourful. A neck-stock and gloves finished the ensemble.


    ¡°Hm, very nice,¡± George Louis said, looking David up and down when he stepped out in the open. ¡°One last thing.¡±


    He picked something up from the table and walked around David, quickly hanging and fastening a piece of jewellery around his neck.


    ¡°An anti-magic amulet,¡± he said, stepping in front of David to have another look. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re going to need it sooner or later. It¡¯s silver, so it should at least deter the Rot a little, too.¡±


    David stepped in front of the mirror and almost gaped. ¡°Tell me that¡¯s not a real diamond.¡±


    ¡°Of course that¡¯s a real diamond. No, don¡¯t hide it under the collar. Wear it where people can see it.¡±


    David paused in straightening the neckcloth. ¡°Are you sure?¡± he asked, glancing over his shoulder. ¡°You don¡¯t think people might misunderstand?¡±


    ¡°After I just told the council yesterday that I would reward loyalty in gemstones? I¡¯m just making an example of you.¡±


    ¡°I see, ¡° David said. ¡°Is that a warning?¡±


    George Louis¡¯s face fell. ¡°No, David. That was a pun. Stop taking everything so damn serious, will you? Take that as an order, if you want.¡±


    David turned back to the mirror. In the reflection, he could see George Louis walk up to the window and stare down at the courtyard. His face was still annoyed.


    ¡°When will we be leaving for Breachpoint?¡± David broke the silence.


    ¡°As soon as the carts are loaded,¡± George Louis gave back. After a few seconds he added: ¡°We¡¯ll take those of the dead soldiers that worshipped Mithras. They¡¯ll be burned on funeral pyres at dusk.¡±


    David nodded. No doubt, the men would be given all the honours, while d¡¯Evier¡¯s body was thrown to the fish.


    More propaganda.


    ¡°Have you had breakfast yet?¡± George Louis asked.


    David shook his head. ¡°Not hungry.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not hungry or you don¡¯t want to eat with me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry and I¡¯ll probably throw up if I try to eat anything right now.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Do you want some coffee, at least? I don¡¯t know how much longer we¡¯ll have any or when we¡¯ll be able to procure more.¡±


    ¡°You just had to make an awful morning worse, didn¡¯t you?¡± David grumbled. ¡°I¡¯ll take some coffee.¡±


    George Louis called for Wilfred, while David thought about what the duke had so offhandedly thrown into the room. No more coffee, for coffee didn¡¯t grow on Loegrion, and it would likely take some time until they could establish safe trading routes for it again.


    ¡°What else are we going to have to do without?¡± he asked, once the duke¡¯s manservant had brought in the breakfast tray.


    George Louis shrugged. ¡°Chocolate and cocoa will be difficult, too. Some spices. Silk, unless we can get trees and caterpillars. Nothing essential.¡±


    ¡°Except for the coffee.¡±


    George Louis laughed as if that was in any way funny.


    ¡°I¡¯m hoping to strike a deal with some pirate captains,¡± the duke said, grinning. ¡°Shall I ask them to prioritize vessels carrying coffee?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think the people will complain?¡± David asked, ignoring the question.¡±What about sugar? Or cotton?¡±


    George Louis shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s what sugar beets are for. We¡¯ll have sweets, don¡¯t worry. And cotton grows in the south of Loegrion. As soon as we have the railway to the west coast, we can see about reaching out across the ocean to the twin continents on the west. I¡¯m sure coffee could be grown in Tawantinsuyu. They were amongst the first to produce cocoa, so we¡¯ll get chocolate that way, too.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll need some brave captains for that,¡± David noted.


    George Louis nodded, and glanced out of the window again. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering about this before,¡± he continued. ¡°But since we¡¯re talking about the sea: Can werewolves drown?¡±


    ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know,¡± David said.


    ¡°You never asked? How about an educated guess?¡±


    ¡°Why do you want to know that?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Just curiosity. There seems to be a lot I don¡¯t know about these most important of our assets.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot I don¡¯t know, either.¡±


    When George Louis just looked at him, David sighed.


    ¡°I would guess that yes, they can drown. It probably won¡¯t be easy to kill them that way, since they do swim quite well, but I would reckon there¡¯s a limit to how long they can go without breathing. Lee hinted that they can starve to death, too. They¡¯re far from immortal. Greg reckons that they can be killed with any regular weapon as well, theoretically.¡±


    George Louis looked up. ¡°How?¡± he asked. ¡°I thought only silver could do it. Or a beheading.¡±


    David shrugged, cursing himself. For a moment, he had forgotten who he was talking to ¨C that George Louis wasn¡¯t the man he had once believed him to be. But now it was too late.


    ¡°They survive most injuries not caused by silver because they just transform and the wound vanishes. But if you can stop them from transforming ¨C because it¡¯s new or full moon ¨C they should die.¡±


    ¡°But surely, if this were true, hunters would have noticed before, and saved themselves the silver?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°I reckon that might in fact be the main reason why it¡¯s supposedly better to go hunting on full moon. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if it turns out that three hundred years ago, silver was used any day that wasn¡¯t a full moon. I don¡¯t know. Maybe there¡¯s something in those parts of the archives you¡¯ve got access to?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have someone check,¡± George Louis said. ¡°But I doubt it. The people who brought them to Mannin were trying to profit from the war, so they grabbed everything they thought might prove valuable. I doubt that details about werewolf-hunting techniques would have been included.¡±


    He paused and added. ¡°Still, doesn¡¯t hurt to check. We should get ready to move out, though.¡±

 Chapter 81

    Getting to Breachpoint took the better part of the day, with the carts slowing them down. The news that they were coming had travelled much faster. The good people of Breachpoint were lining the streets, throwing flowers onto the closed wagons with the soldiers¡¯ bodies and eggs and rotten fruits at the open cart where d¡¯Evier had been propped up against a pole.


    The music corps of Breachpoint garrison was playing on the stairs to the large plaza where the truss stopped. On one side of the wide open yard, those wide stairs led up to the town hall of Breachpoint and the cathedral, on the other side, only a low wall rimmed a steep drop right into the ocean. More than two-hundred funeral pyres had been set up on the flat ground in between, and the curious onlookers lined the remaining two sides.


    David followed George Louis and a handful of other nobles up the steps to where two large basins had been filled with coals to illuminate the stage in between. He tried his best not to show how bored he was by the duke¡¯s speech, and then Picot¡¯s speech, and then a third speech by the mayor of Breachpoint. He supposed the soldiers needed the time to unload all the dead and place them onto the prepared pyres. Between each speech, the music corps played, and then ¨C


    David had a hard time not to let his jaw drop when a flame-forsaken Bishop of Mithras stepped out of the Cathedral, followed by a small entourage: Bishop Larsson, with hair so pale it had hardly changed colour with age, once known the Silver Blade of Mithras, when he had fought to proselytize the tribes of the northern mainland.


    It had never fit him, David thought.


    Or rather, by the time he had first met Bishop Larsson, the priest had been mellowed with age: A man who had forsaken sword and magic to further the glory of Mithras with soup and kindness instead, as head of the Salvation Effort.


    If it had to be a priest who gave the fallen soldiers the last sacraments, Larsson was probably the right one.


    It still surprised David that the Bishop had agreed to this, given what was about to happen to the mortal remains of the High Inquisitor.


    Clearly, David wasn¡¯t the only one who thought so. There was an unhappy whisper all around.


    Larsson raised his empty hands. David twitched. D¡¯Evier had done almost the same gesture before throwing fire at him.


    But Larsson just waited. ¡°Peace, friends,¡± he called after a moment. ¡°Peace. Yes, I am a Bishop of Mithras. I walked through the Four Trials. I read the Book of Mithras. My master is He, not the Roi Solei. My faith is in His word, not the laws the Archbishop of Rambouillet puts down.


    Mithras says ¡®go forth, and conquer darkness wherever you shall find it,¡¯ and I believe that darkness has taken hold at the heart of the Church. And that darkness is called the Inquisition.¡±


    A deep quiet fell across the plaza.


    ¡°Mithras says ¡®let all who love the light come to me as my children. Let them worship the light as they see fit.¡¯


    Oh, I know what the Archbishop of Rambouillet will say: He will say that sheep need guidance. But I see no sheep here! He will say that I am old, and senile, and that I have lost sight of the path of truth. And to all those who feel that way, I only say: Watch!¡±


    The old man walked over to one of the large basins that lit the stage. He grabbed the metal rim with both hands despite how hot it had to be and pushed until it toppled over. The coals crashed onto the stairs, flowing down the steps almost like water. Larsson walked over to the other basin and pushed that over, too, at an angle so that the coals mixed with the others. Flames flared up and the stairs burned almost hip-high.


    Before anyone could stop him, Larsson walked right into the flames. People screamed but the old man just raised his hands again.


    ¡°Fear not,¡± he called and paused, with sparks flying around his fingers. ¡°This is what the fourth trial looks like. I walked through fire before to prove my faith. But few priests do, nowadays. Far too few. Because the Church has lost the way! Oh, they will call me mad. They will say I¡¯m a heretic! So come, all you Inquisitors! If you want to prove me a heretic, meet me at the Trial of Flames, and we will see whose faith will hold stronger!¡±


    David watched in shock and a little awe as Larsson slowly walked down the stairs, barefooted, through the burning coals. At least one of the soldiers lining the steps held out a hand, to check if the fire truly burned as hot as it looked or if this was just some trick. He pulled it back quickly.


    Larsson bent down at the base of the steps and picked up one of the coals. He held it high over his head, so that everyone could see the glow, before placing it at the first of the pyres on which the defenders of Oldstone Castle had been laid out.


    ¡°May your soul raise up to Mithras,¡± he said when the prepared wood caught.


    The people watched in silence while the old man walked back and forth between the pyres and the burning stairs, repeating the same words over and over. David watched, too, shocked and impressed. He hadn¡¯t understood why Lane was still observing certain fast days, or why she was still unwilling to try men¡¯s clothes, despite the advantages they had. But now that he had seen a man walk through fire, he understood the allure of the faith a little better.


    He glanced over to her. Her gaze was fixed on the old bishop.


    ¡°Any man who wilfully raises the Rot cannot be a man of Mithras, for Mithras hates the corrupted residues of human magic,¡± Larsson yelled. ¡°Any man who stands against the Rot has taken the first step towards salvation. These brave warriors gave their lives to fight the foul sickness. May they forever dine in heaven!¡±


    The people watched mostly in silence how the pyres burned. Some were singing funeral hymns, and the relatives gathered around the bodies of their loved ones.


    ¡°That was far more impressive than I dared to hope,¡± George Louis muttered, once the flames had burned down from blazing to a steady flicker.


    David glanced over to him, then back towards the bishop who was talking to some of the bereaved. To the sides of the plaza, where most of the crowd was gathered, people were growing restless. David could hear at least one voice that was trying to sell food. Some of the people mourning for their relatives glared in the same direction.


    They were losing the moment.


    George Louis didn¡¯t seem concerned. He looked over his shoulder and waved. A moment later, someone pressed through the group of nobles surrounding the duke. A child.


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    Prince George stepped up onto the stage, nervously looking to his father, who nodded, and clapped his hands. ¡°If you know the words, please, join in,¡± he called to the crowd.


    And then the boy began to sing, his father¡¯s hand on his shoulder, in that bell-like voice only children possessed. ¡°Flowers of Loegrion,¡± David recognized.


    And people did join in. It was a song well-chosen, not a funeral song, not a religious hymn, rather a love song to the country. It was often played at country fairs and many people in the crowd knew the words, Valoisians and Loegrians alike. It did have the right kind of slow, solemn melody, too.


    George Louis let the silence ring for a few seconds after the last note had died away, before calling out to the people again.


    ¡°Now that we have paid our respect to the fallen,¡± the duke said, ¡°and have reminded ourselves what they fought for, it is time to show all the enemies of Loegrion what we think of them. Let this be a warning to all those who would turn the Rot against us! Bring forward High Inquisitor d¡¯Evier!¡±


    ¡°Feed his bones to the fish!¡± the soldiers who had come with them from Oldstone Castle yelled back. David wondered if the men had been prompted to do so. The cart with the body rolled slowly into view.


    George Louis grinned grimly. ¡°That is precisely my intention,¡± he declared. ¡°But since I don¡¯t want to fight the bastard twice, let¡¯s have him dismembered first.¡±


    David had a hard time hiding the shudder when the executioner of Breachpoint stepped forward with his large axe. He had seen more than enough blood for one day. The soldiers cheered, though, while the executioner took the body apart at every joint. David thought the rest of the onlookers seemed less certain about the messy spectacle. Picot, standing next to David, looked grey in the face, even in the golden light of the setting sun.


    ¡°This is far more drastic than I expected,¡± Lord Clermont muttered behind David.


    ¡°He would have handed all of us to his monsters,¡± George Louis replied calmly.


    ¡°True,¡± Clermont agreed. ¡°I just didn¡¯t expect you to retaliate like this.¡±


    When the soldiers started to toss the first pieces of the body into the ocean, the crowd finally began to applaud as well. Head and torso went over the banister last.


    ¡°Now that this business is concluded,¡± George Louis called, ¡°it is time to celebrate the living. Any man or woman drinking in this city tonight shall do so on my expense, and all I ask in return is that the first toast be to the heroes of Oldstone Castle!¡±


    The soldiers must have misunderstood, because they echoed: ¡°The Hero of Oldstone Castle! Lord David Feleke!¡±


    Whatever George Louis said in reply was drowned out by the howling of several werewolves and the crowd celebrating the prospect of free beer.


    Lane didn¡¯t move as all around her people raced to flood the pubs and bars. The lords up on the stage with the duke and his son turned towards the town hall, where no doubt a reception had been prepared. Lane could have joined them, but her eyes were fixed on the pyres. She still couldn¡¯t quite believe that George Louis had really done this. The Archbishop of Rambouillet and the Roi Solei would have to react to this. Any spy caught in Valoir ¨C anyone caught so much as expressing sympathy to the rebellion ¨C would face a slow and painful death, no doubt.


    Someone else was standing between the smouldering flames. Lane¡¯s feet moved forward on their own. Before she got there, however, another man and a woman had approached Bishop Larsson. Lane paused when she heard him gently console them. She dithered around for a minute or two, but she wasn¡¯t even sure what she was going to say to him, anyway. So instead, she walked over to the low wall securing the steep cliff.


    There was nothing to see down there, only the white cresting of the waves that crashed against the rock Breachpoint was built upon. Of course, there was nothing to see. D¡¯Evier¡¯s remains must have long been carried out to sea in the riptide.


    ¡°Not a true man of Mithras,¡± Lane tried to calm her racing heart, but it didn¡¯t work.


    D¡¯Evier had still been a priest. A holy man. Someone Lane had been brought up to revere. If Mithras hadn¡¯t condemned them yet for all eternity, He was sure to do so now.


    ¡°There was never any salvation for you, anyway,¡± Lane muttered.


    ¡°Are you referring to the High Inquisitor, or yourself?¡±


    Lane jumped. She had been so deep in thought that she had never heard the Bishop approach.


    ¡°If you meant the Inquisitor, I quite agree,¡± Larsson went on. ¡°But if you were referring to yourself then I¡¯d like to ask what makes you think so.¡±


    ¡°He was a priest,¡± Lane said. ¡°We killed him. Mutilated his body and tossed it into the sea so his soul will never rejoin Mithras.¡±


    ¡°Never is a long time,¡± Larsson said. ¡°This ocean will one day fall dry, just as this land will no doubt fall under the sea one day. And I would argue that he wasn¡¯t a true priest, either.¡±


    Lane stared at the old man.


    ¡°A true priest would forsake all worldly power,¡± Larsson continued. ¡°They would use magic only to ward off evil or death. They would never, ever raise the Rot. D¡¯Evier failed on all three accounts.¡±


    ¡°But he went through the trials,¡± Lane couldn¡¯t help but argue. ¡°Just like you.¡±


    ¡°No, he didn¡¯t,¡± Larsson shrugged. ¡°He went through the first two, and they are trials of body and mind. He never went through the Trial of Soul or the Trial of Faith. In the old days, before the Church married herself to the Empire, all four were required of anyone who wanted to call himself a priest of Mithras. Today, all the Church asks for is the Trial of Body, and only fools like myself even strive to walk through fire. And that should tell you all you need to know about the state the Church of Fire is in. Even the Archbishop of Rambouillet is nothing more than an acolyte, and I reckon your chances of walking through fires unharmed are better than his.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that,¡± Lane muttered.


    ¡°Why? Because you¡¯re a woman?¡± Larsson shook his head. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. Have you committed murder? Performed any harmful magic?¡±


    ¡°Does killing werewolves count?¡±


    Larsson smiled. ¡°I thought I should have recognized you. And that¡¯s a tricky question, milady. The Book of Mithras doesn¡¯t mention werewolves. It does mention curses, and it demands that we do everything to lift a curse before we condemn the victim. Unless the curse was brought about by Mithras himself, in which case there is no point in trying to lift it. But no creature cursed by Mithras has ever been known to bear children.¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°So I do not know if it is murder. But in the absence of certainty, I would advise against it, unless there is very good reason.¡±


    Lane nodded mutely and stared down at the dark waves beneath them. How strange to hear a Bishop of Mithras say those words.


    After a long moment of silence, the bishop straightened up. ¡°Oh my,¡± he said, and pointed over the waters. ¡°Look.¡±


    For a long moment, Lane saw nothing out there but the nearly black ocean. But there was something lighter moving between the hills and valleys of the waves, something large ¨C a faintly glowing body, diving and rising. Lane stared as hard as she could. It vanished underneath the surface and didn¡¯t reappear so long that she almost thought it was gone. When it broke through the waves again, it was so close that she could see clearly, but what it was, she still couldn¡¯t tell: It looked like an otter. Not like the small, river-dwelling animals that sometimes lived in Loegrion¡¯s cleanest rivers, but a huge creature like a whale, and glowing like the stars.


    Lane stared in wonder at the marvellous beast. Larsson next to her was leaning forwards so much she worried he¡¯d fall in.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°A water-spirit,¡± Larsson said. ¡°A good omen, sailors say.¡±


    The otter spirit had turned onto its back, paddling with its tail like only otters could. It had caught a large, silvery fish, and seemed to enjoy its meal.


    ¡°I have only ever seen them much, much further to the North,¡± Larsson continued. ¡°They¡¯re sacred to the free tribes between the Empire and Fylke. I heard they¡¯re drawn to natural sources of magic, but avoid human magic and the Rot. I never thought I¡¯d see one so close to Loegrion.¡±


    In the distance a werewolf howled again. The otter-spirit raised one front paw, as if to wave.


    A moment later it was gone.


    ¡°Ah...¡± Larsson muttered, smiling. ¡°Do you believe in omens?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a sin to strive to know the future,¡± Lane softly quoted her father. It didn¡¯t surprise her anymore when Larsson laughed.


    ¡°The Book of Mithras does say so,¡± he said. ¡°Yet it also says that the truth is written in all of His works, and that we should strive to see it there.¡±


    He grew more serious. ¡°Perhaps not an omen,¡± he added. ¡°But surely a sign that Mithras hasn¡¯t abandoned this country.¡±


    He looked at Lane from the side. ¡°You said that there never was any salvation for you,¡± he went on after a moment. ¡°So I take it you were struggling with your faith even before the Lackland Rebellion. If you ever want to talk about it ¨C I¡¯ll likely be in Deva for the foreseeable future.¡±


    With that, he turned and walked away. Lane looked after him for a second but then stared out across the ocean again. As hard as she tried, she couldn¡¯t get another glimpse of the otter-spirit. It had slipped away as quickly as it had appeared.

 Chapter 82

    ¡°Please, tell me the parts all washed away,¡± a voice pulled Lane out of her musings. Greg and Thoko had walked over.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Oh, yes. There was a ¨C Bishop Larsson called it a water-spirit. It looked like a giant otter, but it glowed like the stars.¡±


    She felt herself blush when Greg stared at her, but Thoko leaned onto the stone wall at once. ¡°A spirit animal?¡± she asked excitedly. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen one myself, but my parents talked about them! It¡¯s really special, meeting one!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Lane said. ¡°I think it went away again.¡±


    Thoko stared out in concentration but gave up after a few minutes. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of one that looked like an otter,¡± she said. ¡°I wish I had seen it, but father says they rarely appear to more than one or two people at a time.¡±


    Lane was glad that Thoko had heard about creatures like this before. From the way Greg was looking at her, she¡¯d have thought she¡¯d have to argue about whether or not she was hallucinating.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll go and join the reception,¡± she went on and wrapped her arms around her body against the wind. ¡°Do you want to come, too?¡±


    At that question, both of them looked at her as if she wasn¡¯t quite sane.


    Lane smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be fine,¡± she said. ¡°I mean ¨C unless anyone in there really wants to risk a fight with David, and I¡¯d be surprised if anyone around here has the guts for that.¡±


    Greg opened his mouth, but Thoko was faster. ¡°Why don¡¯t we at least try?¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve never been to a royal reception.¡±


    ¡°Ducal reception,¡± Greg said softly, but Thoko had already linked her arm to his and was pulling him along.


    Greg felt very self-conscious when they entered the town hall. He was wearing the best clothes he had been able to borrow from his brothers, but it wasn¡¯t even close to what he would have worn to a reception at Deva Castle. And he wondered if anybody around here had read the newspaper article about him. The guards did eye them suspiciously; Thoko more than him ¨C she was wearing her dark uniform trousers and the white blouse again. Even deLande wasn¡¯t really dressed for the occasion.


    So servants and guards both stared when they walked down the wide main hallway. They made no attempt to stop them, though, and soon, they reached the main festivity. Greg looked around nervously and felt himself breathe slightly easier when he realized that this was far from the court at Deva Castle. Most of the people inside were merchants from Breachpoint¡¯s city council, a few important heads of industry ¨C not that Breachpoint had a whole lot of that ¨C and some landed gentry. Marquess Picot was present, of course, as was Marquess Rover, sneering down his long nose. Other than them, David, and the duke, Greg couldn¡¯t spot anyone he knew.


    Lane moved straight to the thickest crowd surrounding David and George Louis. Greg and Thoko decided to stick to the sidelines instead and check out the long tables full of food. Just as they had emptied their small plates a first time, David and Lane joined them.


    ¡°Enjoying yourselves?¡± David asked.


    ¡°The food, mostly,¡± Thoko said.


    ¡°Prince George will be sad he missed you. Did anyone give you any trouble?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they really noticed us yet,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Either that, or they¡¯re ignoring us.¡±


    Greg nodded quietly in agreement. It was slightly ridiculous how relieved he was to see his brother, armed with both steel and enough silver that Greg could feel the cold, a sword at one side, pistol at the other, and the crossbow at his back. The latter probably shouldn¡¯t comfort Greg at all. He guessed it was there not because David thought there was any chance he would need it, but because it was like a personal crest, something that made him immediately recognizable. Or possibly just out of habit.


    David looked around watchfully before turning to the buffet table himself and taking a fresh plate. He frowned at the selection. Greg had filled and emptied a second one before David had filled his first plate.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Lane asked. Apparently, she had noticed, too.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± David said quietly. ¡°I could sleep for a week or two, and I still don¡¯t really feel like eating anything after ¨C after this morning.¡±


    Greg looked down onto his food, and so did Lane. From the corner of his eyes, he could see David nibble at a piece of bread.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Thoko said. ¡°That you had to do that. Maybe you should remind the duke that you actually fought in that battle. You know, unlike him. The least he could do is give you a day or two for a break.¡±


    David smiled wryly. ¡°Can¡¯t do that, Thoko. I promised Morgulon I¡¯d make sure George Louis behaves. That¡¯s pretty much a twenty-four-hour job.¡± He added more seriously: ¡°I¡¯ll go to Brines with you tomorrow, and hopefully, we¡¯ll have a few days to relax there. Though we might not, since George Louis is going to Eoforwic.¡±


    He raised his voice at the last sentence.


    ¡°What about me?¡± George Louis asked promptly. Greg spun around. He hadn¡¯t noticed the duke coming up.


    George Louis clearly hadn¡¯t expected Greg, either. The duke stopped and stared at him, and for a second Greg could see the alarm on his face. He caught himself, glancing over at David.


    ¡°Gregory Feleke,¡± the duke said. ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected you to join us.¡±


    ¡°Nobody said we couldn¡¯t,¡± Thoko said before Greg could even open his mouth. ¡°Or would you prefer us to leave?¡±


    Greg had no doubt that George Louis would very much prefer for him to leave the building. Not that the duke was going to say so in front of David. Instead, he eyed Thoko coolly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve been introduced?¡± he asked after a moment.


    ¡°No, we haven¡¯t,¡± Thoko said. ¡°You did send the Inquisition after me, though.¡±


    ¡°Really. How did I manage to do so, if we haven¡¯t even talked?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Thoko Banda. You might also remember me as ¡®that heathen witch, black as the devil¡¯.¡±


    Greg eyed Thoko with a mixture of surprise and admiration. He wouldn¡¯t have been brave enough to talk to the duke like that, and he hadn¡¯t expected her to do so, either.


    George Louis stared at her, too, travelling from her face, filled with barely contained anger, down the white blouse she was wearing, lingering at her legs and boots, before snapping back up to her face.


    ¡°So there truly was a woman on Mr. Levi¡¯s crew,¡± he said slowly. ¡°My apologies. I thought the Inquisition was chasing a wild rumour, and saw no harm in keeping them distracted.¡±


    ¡°You gave them my name.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I did. But I assumed it was a man¡¯s name.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Thoko sniffed, shaking her head.


    Greg didn¡¯t believe the duke, either, and he could see David rolling his eyes, too.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Thoko continued after a moment. ¡°Would you prefer us to leave?¡±


    George Louis was glancing at something behind them. ¡°It seems like the least I owe you is a meal,¡± he said, and turned to David, no doubt to make an exit.


    However, before he got the chance, Picot reached them. The marquess had pretended to focus on the buffet table ¨C failing miserably ¨C before he ¡°accidentally¡± bumped into David.


    ¡°Ah, my apologies, Lord Feleke,¡± he said. ¡°Your Highness. I do hope the buffet is to your liking?¡±


    ¡°An excellent selection, Marquess Picot,¡± David said politely.


    ¡°And this must be one of your brothers?¡± Picot asked, looking at Greg. ¡°May I ask, ah, which one?¡±


    ¡°The interesting one, you might say,¡± David said. ¡°Gregory and Miss Banda here went and found the four elders for us.¡±


    Picot actually held out a hand. Greg shook it, trying not to gape at the marquess. Picot looked over to Thoko and this time he did pause, just like George Louis, eyes travelling down from her face, lingering on the blouse briefly, before moving on down to her hips and legs.


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    ¡°Miss Thoko Banda,¡± David repeated, emphasizing her name. ¡°She¡¯s been a huge help to me, building diplomatic connections to the werewolves in the mountains.¡±


    Marquess Picot smiled at her, finally looking back to her face, and offered his hand to her as well.


    Greg could tell that Thoko wasn¡¯t eager to shake hands with the man, but after a second of hesitation, she did.


    ¡°I¡¯m most pleased to make your acquaintance,¡± the marquess claimed.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Thoko said, with a slightly forced smile. ¡°Marquess Picot, did I catch that right?¡±


    ¡°Quite so.¡±


    Picot even gave a slight bow and finally let go of her hand, turning to the duke. ¡°I have to ask,¡± he continued. ¡°Your Highness, the men burned on the pyres out there, clearly they cannot be all the dead from the battle? I heard you lost more than half of your force?¡±


    ¡°A third,¡± George Louis corrected. ¡°These are the soldiers who prayed to Mithras. The others will be burned at Oldstone Castle.¡±


    ¡°Well, I have to say,¡± Picot went on, ¡°it¡¯s a huge relieve to see that you are willing to grant the old privileges to the Church.¡±


    Greg heard a murmur behind his back, but he was too busy stopping his jaw from dropping to check who it was. He quickly picked something from his plate to hide his incredulity. That was the conclusion Marquess Picot drew from all this?


    ¡°I can¡¯t make promises there,¡± George Louis replied, looking from Picot to whoever was standing behind Greg. David was staring in the same direction, which made Greg¡¯s skin crawl.


    ¡°I did promise my soldiers that they would be free to pray to whichever god they choose,¡± the duke continued, ¡°and that their beliefs would be honoured even after their deaths.¡±


    Picot sputtered. ¡°But ¨C but ¨C but... Your Highness! Some of those old ¨C old folksy beliefs required burial mounds! Underground! You cannot be seriously considering...¡±


    ¡°Not yet, obviously,¡± George Louis said. ¡°But eventually, yes. In a few years? Why not? This very morning, a group of werewolves left to cleanse the Stour valley, just as I promised. I do not see why, in a few years, it shouldn¡¯t be possible to put bodies in the ground without fear about what the Rot might do to them.¡±


    ¡°But Your Highness ¨C you know how expensive it is to have a new field treated alchemically! How much work is required to plough just deep enough for crops to grow! A grave ¨C that would need to be how deep?¡±


    Greg stole a glance at Thoko, who had schooled her face to a carefully neutral expression.


    ¡°The effort and resources that would take!¡± Picot continued. ¡°And for what? Some silly, archaic, and heathen superstitions?¡±


    ¡°That is what freedom of religion would entail.¡±


    ¡°But certainly, one can take the ideal of liberty too far?¡±


    ¡°I am so glad someone finally said it.¡±


    The two people who had been standing behind Greg¡¯s back finally stepped forward, a woman and a man dressed in rich clothes. It was the woman who had spoken last.


    ¡°Lady de Clare,¡± George Louis said, with a polite bow. ¡°Your Lordship. Please, would you elaborate on your last point?¡±


    Greg didn¡¯t need to hear what the lady had to say. He was pretty sure he could read it all in the way the two kept their distance from the rest of the group and the depreciative look with which the lady regarded their clothes, especially Thoko¡¯s. The lord, on the other hand, was taking stock of the men, starting with Picot and dismissing him quickly. The Marquess ducked away. Greg managed to meet the strange lord¡¯s eyes for a second, before he, too, was apparently deemed unimportant.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to remodel the country,¡± the lady said, ¡°you should consider doing away with such outdated privileges as ¡®free cities¡¯. After all, you are ruling Mannin, are you not? So why should a city like Breachpoint be ruled by a council of commoners?¡±


    She had raised her voice, causing a hush in the congregation. After all, more than half the people in the room were said commoners ruling Breachpoint.


    ¡°Are you playing devil¡¯s advocate, milady?¡± George Louis asked back calmly. ¡°Or are you seriously suggesting I try to take back a privilege so old even the Empire couldn¡¯t revoke it?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t revoke,¡± the lord cut in smoothly. ¡°It¡¯s not like between the Rot and the Loegrion resistance, they ever really tried, did they?¡±


    ¡°Of course they tried,¡± Greg muttered, annoyed at this distortion of facts. ¡°Of course the Valoise tried,¡± he repeated, because everybody was turning towards him, and David slightly inclined his head to him.


    ¡°The first viceroy of Loegrion fought tooth and nail against Deva keeping the status of a free city,¡± Greg explained, ¡°and his heir tried again in 1634. Viceroy de Bruce briefly succeeded in turning Deva and the sixty-four other free cities of Loegrion into territorial cities in 1699. Only the largest of them, those numbering more than ten thousand residents, regained the privilege during the succession crisis of 1703, Breachpoint amongst them.¡±


    ¡°Well, there you have it,¡± the lady said smugly. ¡°It can be done!¡±


    ¡°It could be done,¡± George Louis conceded, ¡°if I had the whole Grande Arm¨¦e at my back and call, which I don¡¯t have, and if I wanted to do it in the first place, which I don¡¯t. I rather think that the masses of free workers in our cities, the free trade and industries, are one of Loegrion¡¯s strengths, not a weakness.¡±


    The last part was obviously directed at the council members listening in. An appreciative murmur was the answer. Greg had no doubt that George Louis would have sounded quite different if there were more nobles present.


    Lord and Lady de Clare smiled in a way that made Greg worry. ¡°You speak of free workers. Will you at least guarantee nobles the right to their personal possessions?¡±


    George Louis raised his eyebrows at the lady. ¡°I will grant the right of property to every person in this land,¡± he said. ¡°For all those things that can be legally owned under Loegrian law. Does that answer your question?¡±


    What were they talking about? Illegal magical artefacts? Dangerous poisons? There weren¡¯t all that many things that were illegal to own for a noble. Not that Greg could think of, at least.


    ¡°And by which version of Loegrian law will you judge?¡±


    ¡°Lady de Clare, let¡¯s call a spade a spade,¡± the duke replied, sounding a little annoyed. ¡°Are you talking about slavery?¡±


    There was a hiss of outrage all around, and when Greg looked over his shoulder, he was reassured to see that it did not come only from the commoners. Even Picot looked alarmed, and Marquess Rover was quickly turning beet red with fury.


    The lady half smiled, half pouted when she looked at the bristling crowd. ¡°Slavery. Such an ugly word for an ancient custom.¡±


    ¡°Not in Loegrion!¡± Marquess Rover barked. ¡°Not ever!¡±


    ¡°Not in Loegrion,¡± George Louis repeated. ¡°We have no ¨C custom ¨C of slavery here, and I do not intend to start one.¡±


    ¡°Really. But what about the werewolves? You are not giving them a choice to work for you, are you? You cannot truly count these monsters as people?¡±


    Lady de Clare smiled and batted her eyelashes at the duke.


    Greg had to admit he was quite interested in the answer to that question, too.


    The duke turned to stare at Greg, his gaze calculating. For a long second, they looked each other in the eye. Greg felt like the duke was trying to read him, until he looked over to David. Suddenly, Greg wondered if they would get a truthful answer.


    If they got any answer at all.


    ¡°Well?¡± Lady de Clare asked, a bright smile on her face.


    As the seconds stretched and the duke still hesitated, Greg straightened his shoulders. He had to admit, the lady had set up George Louis quite skilfully. However, if she thought she was the only one who could manipulate a conversation, she was sadly mistaken.


    ¡°That is a very interesting question, Lady de Clare,¡± Greg said, loud enough to address the whole room. ¡°And a dangerous one. You ask if a werewolf is different enough from man to be property. This, of course, leads down a rather slippery slope. For if a werewolf is ruled different enough to be property, it will not take long for someone to claim that a woman might be property, too. As, indeed, it is common in Valoir.


    I think it¡¯s rather ironic, milady, that you would use the freedom to speak openly in this forum of men, granted to you by ancient Loegrian law alone, to argue that us werewolves ¨C and perhaps other people ¨C should not deserve the same. As a woman you should see and appreciate the value of those ¡®outdated privileges¡¯ you would have Duke George Louis do away with.¡±


    Greg looked around the room, from the council members of Breachpoint back to the de Clares. The lady bristled, clearly surprised by his answer and alarmed by the implication.


    Greg didn¡¯t even bother to hide a smirk. The look on her face even made up for the fact that everyone else in the audience took a step away from him.


    "Lady de Clare,¡± Duke George Louis finally cut in smoothly, ¡°you seem to operate under the misconception that werewolves are less... intelligent, less able to judge right from wrong, than humans. And that therefore, akin to immature children, we are not only allowed but obligated to decide their fate for them.


    Well, milady, I used to think so, too, and I''m sure young Feleke here would be more than willing to explain to us, en detail, how a werewolf¡¯s mind might be different, yet no lesser. But I think it has become a moot point by now?¡±


    When the lady was still shocked speechless, the duke smiled again. ¡°Regarding your other question: Why don¡¯t you ask the werewolf present if he would consider himself a slave?¡±


    Greg tried not to show his annoyance as he pondered the answer. If he said no, he essentially condoned how the duke had treated him at Eoforwic. But after what he had just said, he couldn¡¯t very well say yes, either, could he?


    ¡°I¡¯m not a slave,¡± Greg said before the silence could stretch again. ¡°Neither are the other werewolves working for Duke George Louis.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re telling me that you all volunteered to fight at Oldstone Castle,¡± the lady asked, her voice dripping with disdain. ¡°For what? Your love of Loegrion? A country where you are hunted like animals?¡±


    ¡°I volunteered, yes,¡± Greg said, ignoring her and speaking to the rest of the audience. ¡°I volunteered to join the railway crew that built the line to Sheaf, and when the Rot attacked us, I fought to defend people who I consider my friends. And again, nobody forced me when I agreed to present to His Highness, despite the danger to my own life, proof of how a werewolf can fight the Rot.


    For the past year, I have helped convince other werewolves to join the effort. True, most of them came to join the railway crews, but not one of them refused to fight the first battle at Oldstone Castle. The four who came with me from the mountains came just as willingly, even though they knew they would be taking on the might of the Empire.


    Granted, the convicts are a slightly different matter. They were given the choice between certain death and the dangers of becoming a werewolf. But the rest of us? Those of us who have been werewolves for years? We decided to gamble our very lives on the chance that you, the people of Loegrion, would appreciate our help and show your gratefulness by at least not murdering us.¡±


    Greg let his gaze travel over his audience grimly. He should better make the most of this opportunity.


    ¡°Do we think the reward so far has been worth the effort? You¡¯ll probably hear different opinions on that matter depending on which one of us you ask.¡±


    He schooled his face into a more gentle expression. ¡°We already talked about whether a werewolf is human enough to not be a possession. The question which remains is whether we are human enough to own property ourselves. Right now, the Lackland Company, for which the vast majority of us at least nominally works, pays us only in food, clothes, and other necessities, like shelter on new moon. Considering the risks we face anytime we fight the Rot, I do not think this will suffice forever.


    You needn¡¯t look so shocked,¡± he added, looking from one merchant to the next. ¡°Few of us would even take silver, much less want it. You would be far better served by making a list of the most Rot-infested areas of the country. Divide them up into territories, and offer them up as a reward. Any territory would need enough forest and game for a werewolf to live on, but they could absolutely protect fields and important roads at the same time. I have no doubt that Breachpoint could profit if werewolves were to rid the far shores of the Savre from the Rot. Something for the council to consider in the future.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have given us all much to consider,¡± George Louis cut in. ¡°And I thank you for that.¡±


    Greg gave him the most innocent smile he could manage. While the council members muttered amongst themselves, the duke turned his back to the room, to get some food from the buffet.

 Chapter 83

    ¡°If you want some advice,¡± Duke George Louis said suddenly, once most people had drifted away, ¡°I would have left it at the vague suggestion that some werewolves would like better pay. You had the room eating out of your hands up to that point.¡±


    That was probably good advice, Greg had to admit. Aloud he said: ¡°Who knows when I will get an opportunity again to speak publicly like this?¡±


    George Louis shook his head. ¡°That is precisely my point,¡± he said. ¡°You could have made your demands now, in private, and stick in their memory as the young man who duped Lady de Clare ¨C an ally, not someone competing for the same resources. The council are hardly the people who can grant your request in any case.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Greg said. ¡°But if no one else hears me state something, it also becomes so much easier for you to make promises in private and never follow through, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I would be a fool if I did. If people cannot trust my word, how can they ever accept me as king?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°And who would trust a werewolf, if it was my word against yours?¡±


    ¡°Playing the victim does not suit you. Of course people would trust you.¡±


    Greg folded his arms across his chest. ¡°Really. You really think others will trust me while you make it a point yourself to never get within arms¡¯ reach of me?¡±


    ¡°That is purely your imagination,¡± the duke sniffed. ¡°Excuse me now.¡±


    He had filled his plate and made it a point to walk right past Greg. But when Greg looked at Thoko, she muttered: ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re imagining anything.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± David added. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I think it¡¯s good you showed these people that their idea of a werewolf is wrong.¡±


    Greg looked around the room uncomfortably. He might have shown them that a werewolf wasn¡¯t a mindless beast, but he had also ousted himself. People were staring at him like he was an exhibit escaped from the zoo.


    ¡°That was quite a speech!¡±


    Marquess Picot was back now that the de Clares had walked away to bother someone else.


    ¡°My congratulations,¡± the Marquess went on, smiling almost grandfatherly. ¡°Quite a speech indeed. I, for one, shall keep in mind what you said. To have the far shores of the Savre cleansed ¨C a year ago, I¡¯d have asked how drunk you are! Breachpoint could finally expand beyond this island!¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Greg said. He was a little overwhelmed, but incredibly glad that there was at least one person beyond David, Lane, and Thoko who wasn¡¯t scared of him at all. ¡°You, uh, you wouldn¡¯t happen to know more about these people, Marquess Picot? The de Clares, I mean? I never heard of them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly surprising, Lord Feleke,¡± Picot said. He glanced around to make sure nobody listened in, and continued: ¡°I was honestly surprised to see them here myself. They¡¯re from the very south of Loegrion, an old family, but quite the reputation. Lord de Clare can trace his ancestors back to the house of Rous, I¡¯m sure you heard of them. But recently, the family has fallen on hard times financially. I reckon it¡¯s because that lady has too much say ¨C don¡¯t get me wrong,¡± Picot added quickly, looking at deLande. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong in general with a woman ruling her land. But that woman...¡±


    Picot shook his head, glancing once again over to where the de Clares were having a heated argument with Marquess Rover. ¡°That dress alone must have cost a fortune, let alone the jewellery,¡± he muttered. ¡°No sense of moderation, that woman. Or decency. I wonder how she paid for those clothes. Or rather: who paid for them.¡±


    Picot lowered his voice even further. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t turn my back on them in the duke¡¯s place. They claimed right away they¡¯d support the Lackland rebellion, but their word is worth less than their credit, if you ask me. And Lord de Clare is a duellist of some renown, quite fast on the draw. He killed several men and is no longer welcomed at Deva Court for it.¡±


    The Marquess paused and then qualified: ¡°Of course, they¡¯d be foolish to act here. They would never make it out of the city.¡±


    David still excused himself to go and find the duke.


    ¡°If de Clare killed someone in a fair duel,¡± Greg said slowly, ¡°why is he no longer welcomed in Deva?¡±


    ¡°Ah, you spotted the issue right away, haven¡¯t you?¡± Picot shuddered. ¡°There¡¯s been rumours that not all his opponents were, ah, aware that they were in a duel.¡±


    Greg blinked.


    ¡°But then it¡¯s not a duel at all,¡± Thoko already said. ¡°That¡¯s just murder!¡±


    ¡°Quite so,¡± Picot said. ¡°Quite so. Nothing¡¯s been proven, of course.¡±


    Greg looked over to the de Clares again. Just as he did, Lord de Clare turned to glare at him, and for a second, their eyes met. Greg looked away quickly. House of Rous, Picot had said, that was quite a name. The previous dynasty of Roi Soleis had come from that family.


    ¡°Say,¡± Marquess Picot went on, squinting over to David and the duke, ¡°your brother is quite dedicated to supporting Duke George Louis?¡±


    Greg nodded.


    ¡°Only, I heard the two of them had a falling out of sorts, back in the day.¡±


    Greg froze when Marquess Picot looked at him slyly. The man was supposed to be a blundering idiot!


    ¡°I remember they used to be quite close as boys, were they not? But it ended rather abruptly, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    Greg couldn¡¯t help but wonder what exactly Picot knew.


    ¡°I guess they used to be friends,¡± he said, trying to sound like it was no big deal. ¡°And I think there was some kind of argument, yes, but I was only a kid back then. It¡¯s not surprising, though, they don¡¯t really share the same values. David isn¡¯t a ladder climber.¡±


    ¡°What changed?¡± Picot asked. ¡°Clearly, they reconciled.¡±


    ¡°What changed? I got bitten,¡± Greg said. ¡°I think David felt guilty that he couldn¡¯t prevent it. And after I had run away once, well, he decided to keep an eye on me when I got sucked up into the duke¡¯s plans.¡±


    ¡°He is the best werewolf hunter in all of Loegrion,¡± Lane cut in. ¡°I don¡¯t think there was any way for him to stay out of this ¨C he¡¯s not the kind of man to watch from the sidelines, and if he does take on a cause, he certainly doesn¡¯t do it half-heartedly.¡±


    She managed to sound so proud, if he hadn¡¯t known better, even Greg would have totally believed that she and David were courting.


    ¡°You are quite a lucky woman,¡± Marquess Picot noted.


    Lane beamed at him. ¡°I truly am. And I think I should remind Lady de Clare that a pretty dress isn¡¯t all men want in a woman. If you¡¯ll excuse me.¡±


    Lane somehow managed to glide across the floor even in her leather skirts and boots. David offered her his arm when she reached him. Just like Lane had predicted, Lady de Clare promptly threw a poisonous look in their direction.


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    ¡°What a couple,¡± Marquess Picot muttered.


    Greg watched with some relief how David bowed formally to the duke before he allowed Lane to lead him over to the small dance floor where a couple of councilmembers were dancing with their wives. There was a severity in the way his brother interacted with George Louis which at least should ensure that nobody would consider they had ever been lovers.


    ¡°Ah, but let us not stand around here,¡± Picot said. ¡°Let me introduce you to the mayor of Breachpoint!¡±


    Greg had a strong feeling that the mayor of Breachpoint wouldn¡¯t appreciate the gesture. But since he had crashed the party already, he might as well see if he couldn¡¯t allay some fears.


    Picot was undeterred by the mayor¡¯s rather nervous greeting. He continued to pull Greg from one councilmember to the next, until they had done a full circuit of the room, and even spoken to most of the lower nobility present. At this point, Greg decided he had enough of being stared at like a wild and dangerous animal for one night. He and Thoko made their excuses and went to see if there was any beer left in the city.


    They picked the first bar they walked past, filled almost wall to wall with soldiers. Some of them seemed to recognize Greg ¨C they certainly recognized Thoko ¨C but unlike the councilmembers, they didn¡¯t seem bothered by his presence. There was plenty of beer left, too.


    ¡°Beer¡¯s free tonight,¡± the woman behind the counter told them. ¡°Anything else, you gotta pay up front.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll take two beers,¡± Thoko said, while Greg was still trying to decide if he wanted something stronger, too. He pulled up his purse ¨C two purses actually, one inside the other ¨C to see how much coin he had, but then couldn¡¯t bring himself to actually open it.


    Thoko eyed him knowingly. ¡°What would you like?¡± she asked, holding out a hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m not even sure how much money is in there,¡± Greg said and handed her the bag.


    He looked away when Thoko opened first one string, then the other holding it closed. He hated the way his fingers flinched when he just thought about touching the coins inside.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine. Are we going to get a room in the city?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°I don¡¯t feel like walking back to Oldstone Castle this late.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d never get there before sunrise,¡± Greg agreed. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll get a room.¡±


    Thoko took a couple of silvers and offered him the rest of the money back.


    ¡°Keep it?¡± Greg asked. ¡°It¡¯s ¨C I have no idea why it bothers me so much.¡±


    ¡°Well, I mean, we both know why,¡± Thoko said, securing the purse at her belt.


    Greg sipped at his beer, rolling his shoulder uncomfortably. ¡°Fire doesn¡¯t bother me.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Thoko said. ¡°But fire burns everyone. Maybe the fear of it is something learned rather than ¨C instinctual.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Greg muttered. But why now? Half the time it wasn¡¯t even an issue.


    ¡°It¡¯s half moon tonight,¡± Thoko added, as if she had read his thoughts. ¡°And the moon is waxing.¡±


    ¡°Something to look forward to,¡± Greg said darkly.


    Tomorrow, they¡¯d leave for Brines, David had decided so. Apparently, he had already informed their parents. Greg would have preferred to go to Courtenay, even though he understood the reasoning that Brines was easier to reach, since it had a railway station. They probably shouldn¡¯t take the Morgulon to a place too remote. He just didn¡¯t have very good memories of the ramshackle house there, and he certainly wasn¡¯t looking forward to spending another full moon night in the basement.


    Greg ordered some liquor once his beer glass was empty. The barmaid looked strangely at him as Thoko paid for it.


    ¡°Not good?¡± Thoko asked because he grimaced at the taste.


    Greg shook his head. Once the glass was empty, he decided to try a different drink, but wasn¡¯t quite satisfied with that, either.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can find some music,¡± he said finally.


    A few hours later, they ended up in front of the tiny train station that had been squeezed into the unyielding corset of Breachpoint¡¯s walls. Greg hadn¡¯t had time to appreciate the engineering when they had first come to Breachpoint a few days ago. With the Rot coming down the Savre in scores, and the far shores of the river a swamp teeming with the creatures, there could be no holes in the walls left open. So the gates that secured the railtrack leading in and out of the city were cut to close precisely over the sleepers. To make sure nothing got in through a crack, sacks full of salt were piled in front of the silver lined doors.


    ¡°I wonder what they did during construction,¡± Thoko said.


    ¡°Must have been one hell of a security issue,¡± Greg agreed. ¡°And they didn¡¯t even have werewolves.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Can you feel it? The Rot, I mean?¡±


    ¡°Go stand over there,¡± Thoko said. She smiled when Greg pretended to pout. ¡°I certainly can¡¯t feel anything if you¡¯re this close,¡± she explained and pushed him gently.


    Greg almost lost his balance but obediently staggered along the narrow but long yard in front of the station. He couldn¡¯t remember drinking all that much?


    ¡°You can come back,¡± Thoko called after him before he was more than halfway across. She met him on the way back and linked arms with him. ¡°Yeah, I can feel the Rot.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t even drink that much, did I?¡± Greg asked, trying not to lean on her too heavily.


    Thoko laughed. ¡°You don¡¯t remember the gin? You had a whole bottle of that. And beer. And you wanted to try everything else they had at that last bar.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I could have sworn the barkeeper kicked us out before I was halfway through.¡±


    ¡°Can you blame him? He probably didn¡¯t want to have to deal with a dead body.¡± Thoko pulled him down onto a bench in front of the station, probably so he wouldn¡¯t stagger around anymore. ¡°I think the moon just set,¡± she added with a look at the sky. ¡°Probably why it¡¯s kicking in kind of suddenly.¡±


    ¡°Nice.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    He still felt the same vague discontent from earlier, and he still didn¡¯t have a clue what he actually wanted. Or if it was, in fact, him wanting anything or perhaps that weird other part of him.


    ¡°Why did we come here again?¡± he asked after a moment.


    ¡°You said you wanted to see the station.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Right, he had said so.


    ¡°I take it you don¡¯t want to stay here?¡±


    Greg shook his head, but caught himself. ¡°You don¡¯t have to, you know, trail after me running up and down the city all night,¡± he said. ¡°If you wanna get some rest... There¡¯s hotels around, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Greg.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. For putting up with this.¡±


    He got to his feet somewhat unsteadily.


    ¡°Is this you or the wolf?¡± Thoko asked, following him down the nearest street. Greg wasn¡¯t entirely sure where he was going, but it hardly mattered. It was hard to get truly lost in a city where you could almost always see the outer walls.


    ¡°I got no clue.¡±


    He slowed when they reached the large plaza where the last remains of the pyres smouldered in the dark. A cool breeze from the sea blew into his face, carrying the smell of salt and seaweed just for a moment before the smoke took over.


    Greg glanced back towards the town hall, where nothing moved. The nobles had probably gone to bed by now. The mourners were gone, too.


    Thoko already walked towards the banister to stare down into the depth.


    ¡°Anything magical down there?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°No need to sound so cynical,¡± Thoko replied. ¡°Spirit animals do exist.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Like unicorns.¡±


    ¡°Or the Rukh.¡±


    Greg tried to decipher her face in the dark. Was she really serious?


    ¡°A bird, big enough to destroy a ship. And a giant otter that glows in the dark?¡±


    Thoko laughed about the doubt in his voice. ¡°Says the werewolf? You transform into a giant wolf once a month. How can you of all people not believe in other mythical creatures?¡±


    Her laughter was beautiful. He had noticed before, but tonight, it seemed to be even more so.


    ¡°What?¡± Thoko asked when he kept staring at her.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to kiss you. If you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°You are quite drunk, aren¡¯t you? I expected you to do so ages ago. But no, I don¡¯t mind.¡±


    Greg stared at her some more.


    ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d say yes.¡±


    Thoko smiled but sighed. ¡°Really, Greg? Fine.¡±


    Before he could make sense of her words, she kissed him. She pulled away again almost as fast ¨C only an inch or two ¨C and whispered into his ear: ¡°Now it¡¯s your turn.¡±


    So Greg kissed her back, even though he wasn¡¯t really sure what he was doing or what exactly he should be doing. It was possible the most awkward thing he had ever done, but at the same time, the best thing for certain.


    Thoko took his hands, placing them around her own waist, leaning into the touch. When Greg pulled away, she whispered. ¡°We¡¯ll practise that.¡±


    Greg ducked his head. ¡°You ever kissed a guy before?¡±


    ¡°When I was a kid,¡± she said. ¡°There was a boy. He moved away from Breachpoint when I was, oh, fourteen?¡±


    Greg straightened with a jerk, half glad for the distraction, half cursing himself. ¡°I totally forgot ¨C you used to live here! Do you want to, I don¡¯t know, visit somewhere? Someone?¡±


    ¡°Tonight? No,¡± Thoko said. ¡°Maybe when the line from Eoforwic to Breachpoint is finished.¡±


    ¡°But would you have liked to...¡±


    Greg trailed off when Thoko shook her head.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Greg. We walked past our old house earlier, someone else lives there now.¡±


    ¡°We did? You never said!¡±


    ¡°There wasn¡¯t really much to see,¡± Thoko shrugged. ¡°We walked past it on our way here from the station.¡±


    Greg wondered if she really didn¡¯t feel like it was a big deal, or if she just didn¡¯t want to be a bother. Or if maybe the whole memory made her uncomfortable. Where had the Valoise held the trial? Certainly, she had been at her old home when her father had been arrested?


    Her father hadn¡¯t died on the plaza they were standing on right now, had he?


    He tried to remember where the last Inquisitional trial had been held, but his brain wasn¡¯t cooperating.


    The first two had been at Deva for certain, but he hadn¡¯t been at the city when the last one had happened, so it might have been elsewhere.


    Thoko smiled sadly and said: ¡°they didn¡¯t have the trial here,¡± as if she had read the thought off his face. ¡°So there¡¯s not need to look so worried. Really, it¡¯s fine. It¡¯s just ¨C I¡¯m not in the mood to face the memories tonight.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Greg said, relieved.

 Chapter 84

    Greg and Thoko were sprawled over a bench in front of Breachpoint¡¯s tiny train station. They appeared to be fast asleep, despite a steady drizzle. Lane paused in her steps once she spotted the way they leaned against each other. David walked over towards the two, who looked like they had been up all night.


    Greg jerked awake before David even touched him. The young werewolf looked bleary-eyed at his brother and complained: ¡°Seriously, David? How much silver are you even carrying?¡±


    David took a step backwards.¡±No more than usual?¡± he said slowly. ¡°Except for this, and it didn¡¯t bother you last night.¡± He pulled out the amulet the duke had given him.


    Greg rubbed his eyes, not looking at the amulet. ¡°Guess everyone else at that party was wearing so much of the stuff that I didn¡¯t notice.¡±


    David let the silver vanish underneath his clothes again and Greg stopped rubbing at his eyes as soon as he did.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± David said. ¡°I can see the train is already waiting for us. In case you two want to sleep under a roof.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± Thoko yawned.


    ¡°Did you two stay up all night?¡± David asked.


    Greg and Thoko nodded at the same time. They were holding hands, Lane noticed, when they followed David and his gelding to the entrance of the small station. The inside was almost empty, since no regular lines ran to Breachpoint yet. Only a few workers and carriers were busy loading the duke¡¯s private train, which would take them as far as the tracks reached towards Eoforwic.


    Lane stopped one of them to ask: ¡°Has the departure time been set yet?¡±


    ¡°No, miss,¡± the man gave back. ¡°Train¡¯s gonna leave when His Highness says so.¡±


    There was only one waggon for passengers, all the others were freight compartments. Some of them, the workers were in the process of filling with materials for the final stretch of the line, some had been prepared with straw for the horses. When Lane led her mare up the ramp into one of them, Greg climbed in as well and settled down in the bedding.


    David raised his eyebrows at him. ¡°You don¡¯t want to sit up front?¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Greg yawned. ¡°I want to get some sleep. Plus, I don¡¯t feel like watching the duke jump every time I move.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    Thoko joined him. Lane considered staying, too ¨C Morgulon wouldn¡¯t want to ride in the passenger coach, either ¨C but when she noticed the look between Greg and Thoko, she decided to give them some more alone time together. She could always change waggons when they picked up Morgulon.


    But first they had to get out of the city. It was past noon by the time the duke finally deigned to join them, his son at his side. George Louis stopped in the door, the boy half hidden behind him. The duke let his gaze travel around the small room, and then stared at Lane and David, as if they might be sprouting horns.


    ¡°What¡¯s taking so long?¡± David asked by way of a greeting.


    ¡°Have you seen your brother?¡± George Louis asked back.


    ¡°He¡¯s in one of the waggons for the horses,¡± David said. ¡°Sleeping, probably. Why?¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s all right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, George. What the hell is going on?¡±


    ¡°Marquess Rover is ill. The doctor is certain he has been poisoned. Quite possibly with death cap mushrooms. Incidentally, the de Clares left the city as soon as the gate opened at sunrise.¡±


    Lane sat up. Rover? Poisoned? But that made no sense, did it? Why him?


    ¡°You two are fine, yes?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re fine, Your Highness,¡± Lane said, but she looked over to David to be sure.


    ¡°You¡¯re certain about your brother?¡± George Louis asked tersely.


    David nodded. ¡°No need to look so disappointed,¡± he growled, when the duke¡¯s face fell.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± George Louis sighed. ¡°It¡¯s just ¨C this makes no sense. If they had targeted your brother and Rover was just collateral, I could at least understand the motive. But what are they to gain from killing Rover? Or anyone else, for that matter?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead already?¡±


    ¡°No, but even the healers have little hope.¡±


    ¡°Your theory might still not be wrong, Your Highness,¡± Lane pointed out. ¡°Poisoning a werewolf is almost impossible. I can¡¯t think of anything that would work, other than silver, and I don¡¯t see how one might trick a werewolf into ingesting that. They¡¯d know it¡¯s there as soon as it touches their tongue.¡±


    ¡°You think Greg wouldn¡¯t even have noticed a normal poison?¡± David asked back.


    ¡°Most likely,¡± Lane said slowly. ¡°I only know that my father tried it,¡± she added. ¡°And that it didn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°Greg reckoned it would still make him sick,¡± David pointed out.


    ¡°But he never tried?¡± George Louis asked. ¡°Do you think he¡¯d be willing to test the theory sometime?¡±


    ¡°Unlikely.¡±


    The flat tone of David¡¯s voice made Lane doubt he would even ask his brother.


    ¡°We can ask Morgulon later if she knows anything about this,¡± Lane suggested. ¡°Or maybe the doctor.¡±


    A man poked his head in through one of the windows. ¡°We¡¯re ready, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s go then.¡±


    George Louis finally took a seat, leaning heavily into the cushions. His son settled down right next to him. The kid looked a little shaken. The duke¡¯s expression was dour and silence fell between them until the train had moved out of the station.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°You really think the Marquess was poisoned?¡± David asked.


    The duke just looked at him. Eventually, he repeated: ¡°That¡¯s what the doctor said.¡±


    ¡°Who would take over as Lord Warden of Deggan?¡±


    ¡°Rover¡¯s oldest son.¡±


    ¡°Is he competent?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s sixteen, so it¡¯s a little hard to tell. I¡¯m fairly certain that he won¡¯t side with the Valoise, though, so I don¡¯t see how the Empire will profit from his taking the post. It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll leave the kid alone to deal with it.¡±


    ¡°Well, who¡¯re you going to make his advisors?¡± David asked.


    ¡°I was going to post Admiral Giffard there, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Who already got a promotion, and higher than he probably expected,¡± David mused.


    George Louis shrugged, and then put an arm around his son¡¯s shoulders. ¡°There¡¯s a good chance that the Empire will end up doing me a favour. Sun knows, Rover wasn¡¯t an easy man to work with.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re sure it was them?¡±


    ¡°Who else?¡± George Louis asked. ¡°Lord Clermont suggested it was done to show how close they can get to us, to scare us. I suppose that might be true ¨C it certainly doesn¡¯t look good if I can¡¯t keep my supporters safe.¡±


    ¡°What if they were after you personally?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Well, then they did a lousy job.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no one else who stands to gain?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Only Rover¡¯s son, and I don¡¯t think the kid did it. If the succession was unclear ¨C but Rover has three sons, they¡¯re all healthy... Like I said, it¡¯s completely pointless to target him.¡±


    ¡°What about Rover¡¯s place on your war council?¡±


    The duke shook his head at David¡¯s question. ¡°I don¡¯t need to replace him at all, I already have d¡¯Aubigny and Giffard for the naval stuff.¡±


    ¡°So the only ones who have anything to gain are those two?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Hardly,¡± George Louis said. ¡°They already got their promotions. A murder like this would be really, really stupid of them.¡±


    ¡°How about something non-political?¡± David asked.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s possible,¡± the duke admitted. ¡°Rover wasn¡¯t exactly popular. But consider the timing!¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± David said. ¡°If you wanted to kill some lord for revenge or whatever reason, wouldn¡¯t this be perfect timing? Everyone will suspect the Empire first.¡±


    Lane leaned back while the two of them argued back and forth whether it was more likely that the Valoise was behind the attack or somebody taking the opportunity to get rid of Rover. Lane stayed out of it, mostly because she agreed with the duke.


    Soon, the argument was cut short because the train slowed down in the middle of an open field. Barely visible in the distance was Oldstone Castle, and a cart was waiting for them. A single giant wolf and a few horses stood next to it. The prince climbed up onto his seat and pressed his nose against the window to stare as soon as they came into view.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go check on Morgulon,¡± Lane informed the men. She had to jump down onto the muddy ground from the waggon, since there was no station here. She could hear Prince George asking if he could go and see the werewolves up close, but his father told him to leave them alone for now.


    Lane shook her head. She really would have liked to know why George Louis was still so afraid of the werewolves.


    When Lane walked up to them, Morgulon was already going up a steep ramp into one of the freight carriages. She was carrying one of her cubs in her mouth. Right behind her walked Dr. Barnett the veterinarian, cradling two more of them in his arms.


    Lane checked and found that the last two were still in the horse drawn cart that had brought them from the castle. They were sniffing around and making agitated sounds, probably calling for Morgulon. Lane picked them up to carry them into the waggon Morgulon had chosen.


    Andrew and Lee carried a stretcher with Nathan on it to the same ramp.


    Greg poked his head out of the next door and retreated again; a moment later, Thoko and he jumped out to join everyone else. Greg took one of the cubs out of Lane¡¯s arms ¨C Lane had to admit that this made it a lot easier to walk up the steep ramp, which was getting increasingly slippery from the rain.


    Andrew and Lee put Nathan down alongside one short wall of the carriage, and he remained flat on his back, arms crossed over his chest and staring up at the ceiling with an empty expression. He didn¡¯t even seem to notice when Andrew left again to load their horses. Greg cast a worried look in his direction, but he didn¡¯t seem to know what to say.


    Lane placed the squirming cub with Morgulon, who was already digging into the straw as much as possible. Greg held up the one he had been carrying, stared at it for a few seconds, and then placed it with the rest of the litter as well. He picked up another one instead and settled down with his daughter on his lap.


    Andrew was the last one to climb aboard, after he had brought his mare and Nathan¡¯s horse into the next coach. He too stared at Nathan but then just sat down in the straw. Lane was a little worried about the silence of the usually so perky Feleke as well, but right now, she was more interested in Greg¡¯s slightly waxy complexion. Or was that just due to the dim light in the coach?


    ¡°Are you okay, Greg?¡± she asked.


    The youngest Feleke looked up in surprise. ¡°Me? Yeah, sure. I¡¯m good. Why, is the hangover that obvious?¡±


    Lane smiled wryly. ¡°Marquess Rover was probably poisoned last night,¡± she explained. ¡°Duke George Louis suggested that you might have been the actual target.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Greg repeated. He shook himself. ¡°No way. Just think about last night ¨C Rover and I never even talked, or stood at the buffet at the same time. And why¡¯d anyone try to poison me?¡±


    ¡°We weren¡¯t even supposed to be at that party,¡± Thoko pointed out. ¡°How would anyone target Greg?¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Lane said slowly. Thoko was right, of course. A poisoning took preparation; it was unlikely that even the de Clares just randomly carried a toxic substance around with them. And if the doctors were right about the mushrooms, it had to have been a very targeted attack, or every guest would be lying ill.


    Which left the question: Why Rover?


    ¡°You can¡¯t just drop a comment like that and not give us the whole story,¡± Andrew complained. ¡°What in the five frozen hells is going on? We left you alone for one day, and already people are dropping dead?¡±


    ¡°Rover is apparently still alive,¡± Lane explained. ¡°Or he was, when we left Breachpoint. The duke did say the healers see little hope.¡±


    She told them everything else the duke had said, and afterwards, the discussion of possible motives started anew. Mostly, it was Greg and Andrew discussing, with Lee and Thoko sometimes adding or asking something. Greg was still holding one of the cubs. Morgulon didn¡¯t seem to mind. She did seem to follow the conversation; Lane was still surprised when the she-wolf actually joined in, relying on Greg to translate for her.


    ¡°Just between us,¡± Lane interrupted eventually, ¡°would it be possible to kill a werewolf with poison? Other than silver, I mean.¡±


    Greg looked to Morgulon, who eventually shrugged.


    ¡°Morgulon never heard of a hunter successfully killing a werewolf that way, though there have been attempts,¡± Greg dutifully translated. ¡°She also doesn¡¯t want to rule out that a sufficiently strong substance might be used to kill a very young werewolf. She¡¯s fairly certain that she herself is safe against such an assassination attempt.¡±


    Greg paused. ¡°I reckon the only way to do it would be with some kind of alchemical compound, which somehow ¨C masks ¨C the silver, but can release it during digestion?¡±


    He looked at Morgulon for confirmation, but she just shrugged again. Lane could tell she was grinning.


    ¡°Yeah, okay, you don¡¯t know anything about alchemy either,¡± Greg sighed.


    ¡°I think you raised a valid point,¡± Dr. Barnett spoke up. ¡°What about silver salts? Would you notice those?¡±


    ¡°Most likely,¡± Greg said. ¡°I could smell whatever they used to treat the ground around the building site for the Savre-bridge at Eoforwic even while looking human. I guess ¨C if it were possible to make the silver magically inert? But in a reversible way?¡±


    ¡°Huh. I never studied alchemy much,¡± the doctor said. ¡°But I seem to remember that it is one of the most magically active substances and that most alchemy seeks to enhance that property.¡±


    Lane leaned her head against the rattling boards of the carriage and let the words wash over her. While Greg and the doctor discussed the alchemy of different silver compounds, Andrew turned to Thoko, to ask what else had happened at Breachpoint, and if she had gotten to see her old house.


    Lane jumped when Morgulon got up to drop one of the cubs into her lap. She blinked in surprise at the she-wolf, who in turn poked Greg with her nose. He frowned at her and then turned to Lane:


    ¡°Morgulon says this one keeps kicking her and she wants to sleep now. So she wants you to hold him.¡±


    Morgulon was already settling down in the straw again.


    ¡°She also says the train is making her nauseous.¡±


    The young cub was already kicking Lane, too, but he calmed down a little when she cradled it up in her arms. She had a strong feeling that Morgulon was messing with her a little, but if the werewolf entrusted her with one of her babies, she wasn¡¯t going to complain.

 Chapter 85

    Dusk had fallen by the time the train stopped at a proper station. Lane frowned and pushed the door open, to see what was going on, and maybe, where they were. All she could see though was a group of men walking up to the passenger compartment. They looked like they might be in uniform, but it was hard to tell in the low light.


    A minute later, David climbed up into their waggon.


    ¡°The duke decided he doesn¡¯t want to cross the Savre in the dark,¡± he explained. ¡°So we¡¯re staying here at Deeshire for the night.¡±


    He sat down between Lane and Andrew and made himself comfortable.


    ¡°How is dear old George?¡± Nathan asked.


    It was the first thing Lane heard him say all day.


    ¡°Same as usual,¡± David shrugged.


    ¡°In a ¡®won¡¯t shut up about his dogs¡¯ way, or in the other way?¡± Andrew asked promptly.


    ¡°Mostly the former,¡± David said. ¡°Though it¡¯s equal parts his dogs and his son these days. The kid kicked my ass at chess, which didn¡¯t help. How do you even know about George¡¯s dog obsession?¡±


    ¡°You used to drag me along to the races?¡± Andrew replied. He sounded amused.


    ¡°Oh. Right. Sorry about that.¡±


    Lane could only guess that Andrew had been David¡¯s cover for going out with the duke. She still wondered what exactly Andrew meant by ¡°the other way,¡± but she could hardly ask while Dr. Barnett was listening.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose His Highness had a hotel booked for us?¡± the doctor asked. He was looking out the open door, watching George Louis and his escort.


    ¡°No,¡± David said. ¡°You are welcome to look for one, of course. We¡¯ll be moving out again at five in the morning, though, if all goes according to plan. So it¡¯ll be a short night in any case.¡±


    The doctor nodded slowly. He didn¡¯t look happy at all, but he said: ¡°I guess I¡¯ll stay here then.¡±


    Lane actually managed to catch a few hours of sleep, despite the baby werewolf still curled up against her chest, who continued to kick out with his hind legs with annoying regularity. She barely woke when the train started to rattle, blinked into the dark, and dozed off again.


    The sun was fully up by the time they reached the end of the line. Lee and Greg shrugged out of their clothes and transformed as soon as the engine stopped, and then had to wait until Andrew opened the waggon door for them so they could jump out.


    Once he was out, Greg shook himself and leaned back onto his hind legs, until his chest almost touched the ground, and then stretched into the other direction. Lane followed more slowly, rolling her shoulders and trying to get the kinks out of her back, too. David and Andrew were already dealing with the horses.


    ¡°Ah, my thanks,¡± George Louis said. He and his son showed up only after Andrew had finished feeding, watering, and saddling their animals.


    Prince George stared at all the werewolves with wide-eyed excitement. His father held onto his shoulder to stop him from running up to them.


    Andrew sighed and held the reins for first the prince and then the duke while they climbed into the saddle. Then Andrew and David together helped Nathan get onto his own horse, strapping him in just in case. Andrew would lead the stallion since Nathan couldn¡¯t really steer him with only one good leg and arm.


    Lane had been wondering about how they would transport the werewolf cubs, but Dr. Barnett had prepared for this: their one pack animal was loaded with big wicker baskets, padded with fabric to make them warmer and more comfortable for the babies to ride in.


    They still couldn¡¯t travel as fast with the young as they would without, so it took them a couple of hours to travel the handful of miles still separating them from the Savre. Once they reached the river, all cubs started to wail at the same time, burying deeper into their baskets. The grown werewolves, too, sped up until they were halfway across the makeshift wooden bridge.


    A group of soldiers was waiting for them at the gates of the New District of Eoforwic. They quickly formed up as an escort around the duke, who said a terse goodbye and then took off with his son. He seemed very eager to get to the safety of the Lackland Company¡¯s headquarters.


    Lane, David, his brothers, the doctor, and the werewolves had to make their way to the station without an escort. A crowd was quickly gathering around them to stare at the werewolves, especially the cubs who poked their noses out of their baskets, now that they were further away from the river. The reactions to them were somewhat mixed ¨C most people were instantly taken with the ¡°cute little things,¡± but Lane heard one group who was debating loudly, ¡°if werewolves can breed, what do they bite people for?¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The doctor left them outside the large main station of Eoforwic. He pointed out one of the new hotels around, where he was going to take a room, and then hurried inside.


    David went into the station house and booked them a whole carriage on the next train to Brines, just so they wouldn¡¯t be constantly accosted by people. It was a mercifully short ride, and then a bit less than half an hour to get from Brines station to the actual house.


    Lane was a little surprised when they finally got there ¨C from everything Andrew and Greg had said about the place, she had expected little more than a barn with a fireplace. But now she was looking at a nice and quite large residence.


    ¡°Five frozen hells, this place has changed.¡±


    Everyone turned around to stare at him when Nathan broke his silence.


    ¡°What?¡± he snapped. ¡°It has!¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Andrew agreed.


    ¡°Yeah, I guess someone finally got around to weed the rose-garden,¡± David said, which made all his brothers glare at him.


    ¡°The rose-garden, sure,¡± Andrew said after a moment. ¡°And someone fixed the roof. And white-washed the walls, set new window panes, and I remember that chimney being a lot more crooked than it is now, too.¡±


    ¡°New fences as well,¡± Nathan added.


    David laughed and jumped out of the saddle to open the gate of said fence. ¡°You guys do realize that it¡¯s been a whole year since you were here last, right? I¡¯ve been living here! Did you really think I¡¯d have insisted on coming here if it were still the ruin it was last fall?¡±


    He held the gate open for everyone else to pass through. Before Andrew made it to the door, it was thrown open, and Lady Feleke ran outside. She hugged Andrew briefly and then turned to the horse Nathan was still tied to.


    ¡°Help me help him down,¡± she ordered Andrew.


    Lane climbed out of the saddle herself and turned to the pack animal that carried Morgulon¡¯s cubs. She gave her best to pretend she didn¡¯t notice how Nathan tried to duck away before his mother could hug him. Nathan wouldn¡¯t get far, seeing how he was depending on Andrew for support.


    David picked up one of the baskets the cubs had travelled in and Lane carried the other one inside, down a short hallway and into a generously appointed, yet cosy sitting room. Baron Abraham Feleke pulled David into a brief, one-armed hug before he had even put down the basket. He then turned to Lane and bowed courtly.


    ¡°Countess deLande,¡± he greeted. ¡°There¡¯s a place ready for the ¨C ah, younglings right here. And the mother, too, of course.¡±


    Right next to the lounge seats, someone had prepared a big nest of blankets and pillows. Lane placed the basket in the middle, and gently let it topple over, so the cubs could crawl out.


    ¡°Will you keep an eye on them while I find Morgulon?¡± Lane asked David, who followed her example.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to,¡± Lord Feleke said.


    Morgulon was already padding into the room. The she-wolf shuddered once and looked around warily, but settled down quite calmly with her young.


    Thoko came inside with her mother, who glared at Morgulon once, and began to berate Thoko in a language Lane had never heard before. Thoko smiled, but rolled her eyes at the same time over whatever her mother had to say. Lane couldn¡¯t understand her answer either, but by the time Greg and Lee joined them, fully dressed, Yamikani had stopped scowling.


    Lane felt slightly awkward when she sat down on the couch next to David. This was the first time she ever saw the whole Feleke-family together like this, and the first time she faced David¡¯s mother since they had announced their courtship, too.


    Imani was staring a lot at her, even while Greg and Thoko told them all about their journey west, and the packs they had met in the mountains, and finally about how they had gone with Lenny to go see his daughter.


    At dinner, it was David¡¯s turn to explain what had happened at Oldstone Castle. Lane couldn¡¯t help but grin when he tried to sum up the whole horror of fighting the Rot in three sentences, and Andrew took over instead to tell the story properly of how David had become ¡°the hero of Oldstone Castle¡±. Even Nathan broke his gloomy silence to add a couple of things, and Lee chipped in with his perspective, too.


    Both Lady and Lord Feleke raised their eyebrows when Andrew went on to tell them how Lane had informed them of Greg¡¯s fatherhood the morning after the battle, and that David hadn¡¯t given Greg any warning before. They didn¡¯t comment on this, though, or much at all.


    ¡°So how long will you all stay?¡± Imani asked, once the dessert plates had been cleared away by a couple of servants who could not stop themselves from staring at Greg and Morgulon.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Greg said, when nobody else spoke. ¡°David hasn¡¯t told me yet where I¡¯ve been slated to go.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because I didn¡¯t add you to the lists,¡± David replied. ¡°I figured you¡¯d either want to stay here or go back to First Camp, though ideally, you would go with Lee back into the Argentum Formation and try to convince more elders to help us.¡±


    ¡°We really need to work on you keeping the rest of us in the loop,¡± Andrew commented.


    Greg didn¡¯t look thrilled, but he nodded. He hesitated a second, glancing at Thoko, but said: ¡°All right, guess I¡¯ll go back into the mountains.¡±


    ¡°Awesome,¡± Lee said.


    ¡°Lane would like to stay here with Morgulon,¡± David continued, looking at her. ¡°I told Morgulon that she is free to stay here with the babies, though we¡¯d all appreciate her help if there¡¯s another attack or any emergency involving the Rot.¡±


    David paused, looking at his father, and added: ¡°It might be really helpful if you could get yourself a telegraph connection. In case Morgulon is needed somewhere in a hurry.¡±


    His parents just nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here as long as George Louis stays in Eoforwic and then go with him when he leaves for Deva,¡± David continued. ¡°I¡¯ll check in on the Lackland Company tomorrow, so Greg and Lee can take the day to prepare; I also need to brief them on what to tell the elder werewolves, but they should leave the day after tomorrow.¡±


    Lane felt herself relax when she followed Lady Feleke after dinner to the room that had been prepared for her. Morgulon was settled down with her cubs and appeared more comfortable than Lane had expected her to be, considering that she was to sleep inside.


    Lane was relieved, too. She had been worried about Lady Feleke¡¯s reaction to her ¡°engagement¡± to David, but at least Imani didn¡¯t seem to hold it against her. The only one she now had to worry about was David himself. She didn¡¯t like that he wanted to go to Eoforwic the very next day ¨C he hadn¡¯t taken a single day of proper rest since the battle.


    But she would see what she could do about that tomorrow. For now, she went to bed.

 Chapter 86

    Later the same night, when all the guests and his brothers had retired to the rooms prepared for them, David still sat in the study, just staring into the fireplace, waiting. Eventually, the door opened quietly and his parents entered. There were things that couldn¡¯t be discussed in front of guests, not even guests as dear as Lane or Thoko and her mother.


    Bram and Imani settled down close to each other on the single lounge seat in the room. Bram ran a hand over Imani¡¯s hair as she nestled her head against his shoulder and kissed her temple gently.


    David looked away until they had made themselves comfortable and his mother asked: ¡°Should we maybe start involving Andrew in our little meetings?¡±


    David paused, a little blindsided by this question. His father had first called him to a ¡°family council¡± after he had run away with Bram¡¯s crossbow and brought in his very first dead werewolf, back when Imani had been too weak from the plague to confer with about the running of Courtenay. Since Andrew and Nathan were neither the heirs nor especially interested in the matter, Bram and Imani had never much asked them for their input. Imani had only just started involving Greg in the running of the estates when their whole lives had gone off the rails.


    ¡°Is he even still awake?¡± David asked after a few seconds. ¡°And why now?¡±


    He really just wanted to go to bed himself, but if his parents wanted Andrew to be there, he could wait a little longer.


    ¡°Well, Bram mentioned you have considered to step down as the family¡¯s heir?¡± Imani asked.


    David let his head fall back. ¡°I did tell Andrew that he should consider himself responsible for carrying on the name, yes,¡± he said. ¡°Mostly because I didn¡¯t expect to get married or have children. Or that Greg would be the first to bring home some grandchildren.¡±


    ¡°Oh. But you didn¡¯t intent to, I don¡¯t know, leave the family?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± David snapped. ¡°Why would I ¨C how did you come to that conclusion? Because I prefer men?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± his mother hurried to say. ¡°Just ¨C nothing you said really gives a reason to forsake your birthright.¡±


    David rubbed his face, feeling more tired by the second. ¡°I said that to Andrew back when he turned eighteen, Mum. When I was still certain George Louis would set the Inquisition on me eventually.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s not really relevant anymore.¡±


    David shrugged. He still couldn¡¯t see himself in his parent¡¯s role, in the role he had watched George Louis take a few times over the past few months ¨C dealing with the nitty-gritty details of running the barony, keeping the family¡¯s affairs in order, maybe raising a child. How did Lane handle that? Who was running Wardshire for her while she was away?


    ¡°I think it might be a good idea to include Andrew in future meetings,¡± he said finally. ¡°Maybe Nathan and Greg, too. The dice are in the air, and there¡¯s no telling how they¡¯ll land for either of us.¡±


    His father nodded slowly. ¡°How is Nathan?¡± he asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s alive,¡± David said. ¡°I think it¡¯s too early to tell.¡± He folded his arms across his chest. ¡°He¡¯s really withdrawn right now, but that¡¯s hardly surprising, is it? He lost his bloody foot, and it¡¯s only been a week. We¡¯ll need to find a doctor or a healer to check on him, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I already took care of that,¡± Imani said.


    ¡°You really want to go to Eoforwic right away?¡± Bram asked.


    David nodded. ¡°I need to check on the werewolves at the company. The duke will likely want to talk, too.¡±


    ¡°Right. He doesn¡¯t happen to pay you for all the work you¡¯re doing, does he?¡±


    ¡°He gave me this,¡± David said, and pulled out the amulet George Louis had gifted him. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Just ¨C thinking about the future,¡± his father said. He looked a little uncomfortable. Maybe even embarrassed. ¡°Without the money from the hunts ¨C well, we¡¯ll need to find new sources of income.¡±


    David frowned. ¡°I¡¯d expected our funds to last longer.¡±


    ¡°Oh, they will,¡± his mother said quickly. ¡°But getting Nathan the best treatment won¡¯t be cheap. Maintaining three rather than two estates is raising our upkeep expenses, too. It¡¯s not an issue right now. Just something we¡¯ll need to keep an eye on.¡±


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    ¡°I¡¯ll ask the duke what he intends to pay a Royal Advisor,¡± David sighed. No wonder his parents had wanted to talk in private. ¡°I did collect a bounty for a couple of mad werewolves recently ¨C not a Church-bounty, but the railway doesn¡¯t pay too badly, either.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± he added, because his father and mother looked shocked. ¡°They had attacked a railway crew, nearly killed the werewolf protecting the workers. Even if they weren¡¯t mad, they would have been killed.¡±


    ¡°Andrew mentioned you also had to kill some of the werewolves who fought with you in that battle,¡± Imani said.


    ¡°So?¡± David glared at his parents. ¡°One was trying to chew through steel, breaking all her teeth and ruining her gums in the process. There was no saving them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying there was,¡± his mother sighed. ¡°Just ¨C did it have to be you?¡±


    David raised his eyebrows. ¡°What, you think being an executioner is beneath me?¡±


    They all used to be killers for hire, and that was hardly better, was it?


    His mother ¨C he couldn¡¯t decipher the expression on her face, and after a moment, he gave up.


    ¡°Look, maybe we should continue this after I¡¯ve caught some sleep.¡±


    Fixing the family¡¯s financial situation was going to take more than one night, anyway.


    His parents hesitated but eventually nodded. ¡°That sounds like a good idea,¡± Bram said.


    David didn¡¯t wait for either of them to say more. He just pushed himself out of his seat and walked over to his room, shrugged out of his clothes, and threw himself onto the bed to sleep for a week ¨C or at least a full night, finally.


    He didn¡¯t even get that.


    He jerked upright, drenched in sweat and at the same time shuddering with cold, teeth cramped together over a scream he mustn¡¯t let out ¨C though he couldn¡¯t quite remember why. It had been important, within the dream, to stay silent, but the details were already fading. There¡¯d been a cell, right? He¡¯d been inside the cell, locked up, even shackled ¨C helpless and terrified. He couldn¡¯t remember what exactly he had been terrified of, not that it really mattered.


    David let his head fall back and covered his eyes with one hand.


    No way. He was not dealing with this tonight.


    Oh, he knew dreams like this one all too well. At both Deva and Heron Hall he had calming medicines stashed in his rooms, but he hadn¡¯t needed them in so long that he hadn¡¯t bothered to buy any at Eoforwic yet. He¡¯d have to do so tomorrow.


    But for tonight ¨C for tonight, alcohol would have to do.


    His parents ¨C his whole family, really ¨C would be unnecessarily concerned, so David was very quiet as he made his way down into the kitchen. He didn¡¯t bother with a light while he rummaged around until he found a bottle of cooking sherry.


    All he wanted was one uninterrupted night of sleep, for flame¡¯s sake.


    Sherry induced sleep wasn¡¯t nearly as restful as regular sleep, and David was the last one to show up and look for breakfast. People did give him weird looks from the side, but nobody commented on his late appearance. Lee and Greg were already discussing what to bring on their way into the mountains. David was a little relieved to see that Thoko didn¡¯t plan on going with Greg a second time ¨C a werewolf likely wouldn¡¯t be too bothered by an early onset of winter, but she might not survive one.


    David was just getting into his coat to travel to Eoforwic after all, when Nathan came hobbling over, a crutch under each arm.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to buy some Valerian,¡± he asked, ¡°get some for me, too?¡±


    David hesitated and nodded, but Nathan already hobbled off again.


    So it wasn¡¯t just him, David thought. Great. He probably should have expected that. Maybe he should ask Lane if she wanted anything from an apothecary, too? Andrew had never used that kind of medicine before. He had other ways of dealing with the nightmares.


    Yet it was Andrew who slipped outside after him.


    ¡°You look like shit,¡± his brother said. ¡°And you smell like old sherry.¡±


    David didn¡¯t answer.


    Andrew sighed. ¡°Did it ever occur to you to take an actual break? Stay home for a few days, go for walks or ride out just for the fun of it? Train with that fancy new sword?¡±


    ¡°I need to make sure everything is all right at the company first,¡± David said.


    ¡°Oh, but you¡¯ll take tomorrow off?¡±


    David hunched his shoulders. He hadn¡¯t planned on it. ¡°If there¡¯s no other catastrophe,¡± he hedged, which clearly didn¡¯t convince Andrew. His younger brother did know when not to pressure him, though, and he didn¡¯t say anything more.


    ¡°Dad made you come after me, right?¡± David asked after a second.


    ¡°Dad, and Mum, and Lane too,¡± Andrew said.


    The last name surprised David a little but it made him smile, too.


    They parted at the train station of Eoforwic. Andrew went on to post a whole bunch of letters to friends at Deva, mostly his own, but some that Nathan had written, too, even one from Greg to another student of Mr. Higgins¡¯s. David hadn¡¯t expected that last one. He thought Greg had burned all bridges back at the capital.


    But maybe that was just him.


    David sighed. The New City of Eoforwic seemed to be getting bigger every time he returned. The mass of people all around was making him jumpy. And it wasn¡¯t even half as bad yet as Deva was in places.


    At the Lackland Company, the crowd was thinner than usual. Nobody was waiting for David inside, either, and when David asked, he was informed that George Louis was spending the day with his son.


    Huh.


    David had been certain George would want something from him. And now there weren¡¯t even any new werewolves in the cells. He scanned through the newest journal from Deva University, just to not feel wholly stupid and useless, and then left the company headquarters again to flag down a cab to the fencing school.


    Mr. Helm showed up when David was nearly done with his routine, so they had a friendly match. David lost, worn-out as he was, but it still felt good. He had a long soak at the public baths afterwards before taking another cab to the apothecary nearest to the train station.


    By the time he had walked back home from the station at a leisurely pace, he actually did feel a little better

 Chapter 87

    Greg trotted after Lee, tired, yet at the same time filled with the restlessness of the soon-to-rise full moon. More than anything, though, he was bored. Lee was one of those guys who acted entirely human around new moon, and more and more wolfish as the moon waxed. Which meant that for the past two days, Greg¡¯s travelling companion had been no more talkative than a dog.


    They should have taken Thoko along.


    Greg shook his head at himself. He did miss her a lot, but bringing her would have been way too dangerous. Already, the weather was turning, even though they were only just in the foothills of the Argentum Formation. No doubt back in the heartlands, the trees hadn¡¯t lost all their golden leaves yet. Here, Greg could smell the first snow on the breeze.


    A year ago, he wouldn¡¯t have known what that note, that taste in the cold air was, but he was getting better at interpreting all the smells and sounds only the wolf could ever notice.


    As the temperature kept dropping and they trudged onwards, Greg dreamed himself back to a warmer day and the seaside and holding hands with Thoko while strolling along the beach.


    If only he could show her around Deva sometimes, go for a walk through the Royal Gardens along the White Torrent¡¯s shores, introduce her to Gustave and maybe even at court. Just show her his old life.


    The thought made the howling in the back of his head rise in volume, as if the wolf wanted to remind him how much his life had changed. As if he needed reminding.


    How had Gustave reacted to his letter?


    It had been more than a month, there might even be an answer waiting for him at Brines. He should have mentioned that he was going to leave for the mountains again.


    But that would only matter if Gustave decided to answer right away, and after Greg hadn¡¯t written in almost two years ¨C well, he¡¯d be lucky to get any answer at all, after everything that had happened. Greg hoped he would. But it didn¡¯t seem too likely.


    And what would he do if Gustave was willing to forgive Greg disappearing without a word of good-bye and then the long silence ¨C what would they even do? Their friendship had been anchored around the lessons they shared with Mr. Higgins, and the distractions of Deva they had enjoyed together. Greg still wasn¡¯t sure if he would be able to return to the capital, and Gustave wasn¡¯t really a pen-pal type, was he?


    He¡¯d just have to hope that David could talk the duke into allowing werewolves into Deva, without a guard, at least around new moon.


    First he needed to survive another full moon and an oncoming snow storm.


    And then they needed to find their way again in the white-out.


    The last part wasn¡¯t too hard, mostly since Greg could just leave it to Lee. The other werewolf had claimed, when he had still been talking, that he had never been past the Crucible Ridge, but he was very good at sensing elders. So Greg just had to follow him.


    As boring as it was.


    They ran into another issue once full moon was over: the clothes Greg had brought were barely sufficient for the weather and in three feet of snow, hunting as a human was incredibly difficult. Lee watched him trudge around and freezing his arse off for half a day and then downed him in a snow drift.


    Turn wolf, he ordered.


    It was the first thing he said in a whole week, so Greg complied. His clothes were drenched anyway, and he was getting more miserable by the minute.


    Lee took the lead again, and Greg got his first lesson ever at hunting like a wolf.


    The other part of him pressed to the forefront as soon as they picked up a fresh trail and this time, Greg let it. He had no idea how to become one with the wolf, or whatever Morgulon had been talking about, and he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to, anyway. Even if that might have saved him the embarrassment of finding himself a father without any memory of his one-night-stand with the mother.


    What other fun had the wolf had with their body that Greg didn¡¯t know about? Nathan had talked about him and Fleur ¡°snuggling.¡± Was that all that had happened between them?


    Sun, he hoped so.


    How much of whatever had been going on did Fleur remember?


    He¡¯d have to ask her. He had never meant to lead her on, or anything, but if that was what had happened, he needed to set things straight between them.


    What a mess.


    The wolf made an almost as big mess of the wild pig they hunted down. Greg felt a little embarrassed about that ¨C he was good at killing his prey fast and with minimal suffering. In his other body, at least. The wolf very much did not care about the pig¡¯s feelings.


    Greg got instead a strong sense of accomplishment from it, a deep satisfaction while it ate its share of the warm meat.


    Afterwards, Greg turned human again to tie the two haunches they hadn¡¯t finished to their small packs. He didn¡¯t get dressed for it, and hurried to become a wolf again. His fur was nice and thick. He wondered if it had been that way before or if part of the magic that allowed him to change shapes also gave him a winter coat. It hadn¡¯t occurred to him to check his fur in summer. He¡¯d have to wait and see if it was different then.


    Lee wasn¡¯t yet at a point where he would answer questions.


    It was a night before half moon when they settled down to rest, that Lee finally ¨C not spoke. But communicated.


    You all right? the older werewolf asked. Sorry for the silence, I should have warned you. It¡¯s less of an issue if I remain human, but if I¡¯m wolf a lot... Well.


    It¡¯s fine, Greg thought and shrugged. He hoped that Lee would get the message. He still wasn¡¯t very good at getting his meaning across, even after all that time with Bernadette¡¯s pack.


    Lee nodded. Right. I forgot how new you¡¯re to all this. Less than two years, right?


    Greg nodded.


    Lee ¨C Greg thought Lee laughed quietly.


    I cannot believe how much has changed since last spring. Mind you, he added with a shudder, I¡¯m still sometimes surprised I¡¯m alive. Once we realized that the bloody ¨C that your brother was after us ¨C with deLande of all people, too...


    Lee shuddered again.


    Greg¡¯s hair stood on end, too, and his heartbeat had picked up, even though there was no reason for him to be afraid at all.


    Well, wasn¡¯t that interesting? No wonder all the werewolves older than him shared the same reaction whenever David¡¯s name came up.


    Suddenly, Greg was very relieved that he hadn¡¯t been a famous hunter. Wouldn¡¯t that have been embarrassing, if all the other werewolves saw that kind of danger in him?


    Or would the fact that he had gotten bitten outweigh that?


    Pierre had mentioned that most of the males in his pack had been hunters, once. Did other packs accept them as easily?


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    Lee flicked his head in a gesture that Greg knew by now meant ¡°no¡±, once Greg had finally gotten his question across.


    That¡¯s the reason why I never went past the Crucible Ridge, Lee said. I wasn¡¯t nearly as famous as your brother, but still. A lot of packs out here do not react well if they find out you¡¯ve been a hunter, especially if you¡¯re a really young werewolf. At least, that¡¯s what I heard. I didn¡¯t want to risk it.


    Greg wondered if they were old enough now not to get into trouble, should they run into a pack that wasn¡¯t Pierre¡¯s or Theo¡¯s. He had a feeling that the elder one called Bridget might take a swing at them. Or a bite.


    They should be far enough to the north to avoid her, Greg hoped. He had aimed for north of Theo¡¯s territory, since Pierre had mentioned that he lived in that direction. They didn¡¯t know how far north, though, and there was no telling who the elder was that Lee was sensing.


    ¡°Why did we decide again that winter was a good time to visit the Argentum Formation?¡± Lee asked on new moon.


    ¡°Autumn,¡± Greg corrected, shivering, too. ¡°Late autumn.¡±


    ¡°How do, what, five feet of snow? How does this not qualify as winter?¡±


    ¡°I just meant that it¡¯ll get worse. Probably.¡±


    ¡°Something to look forward too, then.¡±


    All that snow was slowing them down a lot, and it took them another day to reach the territory of the elder Lee had guided them towards. Greg knew, as soon as he crossed the border, that it was not Pierre.


    They howled to announce themselves, but when there was no answer, they moved forward anyway, cautiously, since they had come all this way to find elder werewolves, no matter who they were.


    Less powerful than Pierre, Greg thought while they moved on. About Theo¡¯s age? Although, the pack might be smaller and the individual members older, he supposed.


    There were four wolves waiting for them in a clearing, watching them and radiating unhappiness. The oldest one was female. She had the same grey around her muzzle as Pierre had. The male by her side was nearly as old, and the two younger ones were about Bernadette¡¯s age, Greg guessed.


    The will of the pack leader made both him and Lee stop quite a distance away from them. It was almost funny how nervous the four elders were at the sight of the two of them.


    Are you from the heartlands? The leader asked.


    Yes, Lee confirmed. We¡¯re here about ¨C


    The old priest told us about you. You should not have come here.


    The she-wolf was quickly reaching a point where fury overwhelmed fear.


    Lee ducked his head. We¡¯ll just leave you in peace then.


    They tried to back off, but the elders didn¡¯t let them.


    You should not have come here, the leader repeated. Greg could feel an echo of hate and fear in her thoughts, and a terrible determination. We will not run away again.


    Shit, Greg thought, while Lee whined softly.


    The two younger werewolves of the pack already approached them, growling and snarling, ducked low over the snow. In the back of his mind, the wolf was howling in terror, telling him to raise his head, to present his jugular in a gesture of surrender. To beg for mercy, just like Lee was doing.


    But Greg was fairly certain that no amount of begging would save them. He had felt it in the female elder¡¯s thoughts ¨C her mind had been made up before they had even started talking.


    Greg had not expected this. Sure, that they might not be welcomed with open arms ¨C even a hasty retreat ¨C


    But Morgulon had said that there was danger, hadn¡¯t she? That someone might try to kill them?


    That had been the very reason why he had been chosen, not someone else. It had made no sense to him when she had first made the decision.


    Now he knew why.


    He forced the wolf¡¯s voice aside and planted his feet wide, ducking his head low to protect the vulnerable underside of his neck. He¡¯d yelled at Bernadette, at his own pack-leader, at someone he actually liked, and on full moon, too. He wouldn¡¯t roll over and offer his throat to these strangers now.


    Greg glanced from one attacker over to the other, trying to figure out a way to get them out of this mess alive.


    The Morgulon sent us, Lee said. He sounded strangled.


    There was only the briefest hesitation in the two who were about to murder them. One of them looked back to their pack-leader, but she just growled: Then even she must have gone mad after all.


    Greg hesitated a second longer. He was certain that the attack on them would stop if he could threaten the leader, but that would leave Lee undefended.


    As if she could feel what was going through his head, the elder focused on Greg, laying the whole weight of her will onto him. But that could only subdue the wolf-part of him. And he wasn¡¯t going to be ruled by an animal¡¯s instincts. Especially not if they were sure to get him killed.


    Greg forced his legs forward in a jump, tumbling into the closest one of his attackers, nearly knocking him over. Greg could have gotten a couple of good bites in, but he needed to focus on the pack leader.


    Neither of the four had expected a fight. Only one of them was as tall and heavy as Greg, and it was the wolf furthest away from him. They probably thought that he was too young to be any trouble.


    Think again, Greg tried to tell them. The older male tried to block him, but Greg just ploughed through him, and then he was onto the female pack-leader. She wasn¡¯t very big, and she was fragile. He thought he might have heard something break when he bore her down onto the ground, or maybe it was just old joints creaking. He didn¡¯t really care.


    You¡¯re mad, he heard her squeaking in his head.


    Back off, or he¡¯ll seriously hurt her.


    Greg was glad to hear Lee¡¯s warning. He didn¡¯t even want to think about how this meeting might have gone if it had been any other moon phase.


    He¡¯s mad!, the elders kept repeating. Totally mad!


    He¡¯s not mad at all, Lee gave back calmly. You¡¯ll all back off now, and we¡¯ll leave the way we came. Or he¡¯ll break her neck. Your choice.


    Greg wasn¡¯t entirely certain that he could bring himself to break the elder¡¯s neck, so he bit down a little, hoping that they wouldn¡¯t press the issue if he drew blood.


    The two younger ones did as Lee had said, but the older male screamed in a way that sounded almost human and crashed into Greg. The old guy managed to rip a pretty good hole into Greg¡¯s shoulder, but the muscle was thick there and it was entirely superficial. It hurt like hell, though, and Greg turned to him.


    He wanted to yell at Lee to run, to get clear. The elders likely wouldn¡¯t be able to stop Greg with their power alone, but Lee was another matter.


    He thought ¡°Lee, run¡± as hard as he could and barked once, and then bit the old guy while still leaning heavily on the leader.


    Finally Lee asked: You want me to leave you here?


    Greg nodded desperately. He did not want to kill anyone, even if these elders had been perfectly happy to end them, and the longer this took the more likely it was that he would have no other choice.


    He snapped at the male wolf again and got a grip on one of his front legs. Behind him, Lee finally went, as fast as the deep snow permitted it.


    Greg growled deeply when the younger two of the pack started towards him. It was dead-lock, the wolf-equivalent of pointing a gun at two foes at the same time: The old female had no chance of throwing him off, and if he closed his jaws and broke the guy¡¯s leg, Greg would likely cripple him for life.


    Once he did that, though, there was a good chance that the other two would come at him, and then this would get really ugly.


    For now, however, the standoff held: they kept their distance. Greg considered his options. They had let Lee go. Greg was bigger than either of them, but probably not strong enough to fight them at the same time.


    Shit, Greg thought again. He shifted his weight, bit down just deep enough for blood to well up from the guy¡¯s leg, and then let go in a hurry. The deep snow slowed him down considerably, but he hoped, with all his might, that the two younger werewolves would check on their pack leader first, giving him a chance to escape.


    Just as Greg began thinking that it had worked, he heard the crunch of someone following him echo in the still mountain air. He did have quite a head start, though. All he could do was to keep running after Lee and pray to any god that might listen that his pursuers wouldn¡¯t move too far beyond the border of their territory.


    Greg had no idea how long he¡¯d been running by the time he caught up with Lee. They were both breathing hard, Greg more so than Lee.


    Good news, the other werewolf informed him. I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯re running towards this Pierre guy.


    That was indeed good news, Greg thought. He was fairly sure that Pierre would protect them. The question was if they would make it there before their pursuers caught up with them.


    He and Lee took turns ploughing a path through the snow, moving as fast as their tiring muscles allowed. As dusk fell, Lee threw his head back and howled. A cry for help.


    There was no answer.


    Instead, as the first stars rose overhead and the air grew even colder, their pursuers came into view. Greg tried to push faster through the snow, but he had no reserves left. Lee howled again, and then faltered in his steps.


    Go on, Greg heard him say.


    He did consider it, for one thundering heartbeat, but stopped and stepped as close to Lee as possible, for what little protection that offered. There was no way the two wouldn¡¯t come for him after he had injured their pack leaders, anyway.


    Greg was right in that regard: They came at him first, mostly ignoring Lee. It was like fighting the mad ones at First Camp all over ¨C they were circling around both Greg and Lee, snapping at Greg¡¯s legs and flanks. They were better at this than the mad ones, though, and more experienced than Greg, too. One of them presented him a clear opening while the other one was behind Lee ¨C Greg took it and realized too late that they had been waiting for him to do exactly that. Without Lee¡¯s motionless body protecting one of his flanks, it took only two bites for the female one to lock her jaws around Greg¡¯s hindleg and crush the bones just above his paw.


    Greg staggered around on three legs, snapping at her muzzle, but she had already retreated, and her partner used his distraction to push him over. Greg tried to roll with it, but with one paw not supporting his weight, he took too long to get up. The female one jumped for his throat and bit down ¨C


    A distant howl shattered the silence of the winter night. What few birds had remained in the mountains over the winter screamed and rose all at once from where they¡¯d been hiding in the trees when the wave of magic crashed over them. The two wolves about to rip Greg¡¯s throat out backed off and whined.


    And then they ran.


    Greg let his head sag into the snow. All would well. Pierre was here. They were safe. Then he blacked out.

 Chapter 88

    When Greg came back to his senses, there was a fire burning steadily nearby. The air was warm all around. He tried to turn his head to see more, but a sharp pain at his throat made him stop. He hadn¡¯t realized how close he had gotten to having his jugular ripped out.


    From what little he could see besides the brightness of the flames, he was inside a cave.


    ¡°They got you pretty good,¡± Lee said next to him. ¡°Thanks, mate. For not letting them have me. I have no idea how you even did that.¡±


    Greg stared at his arm, where a hundred little cuts and bites were bleeding steadily. He couldn¡¯t remember getting them, other than the broken bones which now made up the middle of his foot. And of course, the moment when they¡¯d been about to sever his throat.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± Lee said quickly. ¡°You¡¯re still bleeding from your neck. You¡¯ve lost a lot of blood.¡±


    Greg closed his eyes again. He did feel light-headed, even laying down.


    ¡°Here,¡± Lee said. ¡°Can you eat? You should, if you can swallow.¡±


    Greg opened his mouth, and Lee fed him drips of honey from an earthen jar. Swallowing was painful, but doable. Lee offered him some ice chips instead of water.


    ¡°Pierre?¡± Greg finally asked, even though speaking hurt like hell.


    ¡°He¡¯s resting,¡± Lee answered. ¡°His pack says he raced as fast as he could when he heard us calling for aid, and he¡¯s not exactly the youngest, is he?¡±


    Lee didn¡¯t wait for Greg to answer. ¡°I cannot believe they were ready to just ¨C murder us,¡± he went on. ¡°If we¡¯d run in the wrong direction...¡±


    He shook himself. ¡°I wish you could tell me how the hell you resisted them. I thought only a truly mad werewolf could do that!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been wondering about that, too,¡± a new voice said. Greg hadn¡¯t heard steps, but a woman already looming over him.


    ¡°Do you think you could resist if it was Pierre?¡±


    Greg thought about it. He hadn¡¯t been able to fight Morgulon¡¯s orders, and Pierre was even older than she. He pulled up one shoulder, then gave a tiny shake of his head in answer.


    ¡°Good,¡± the woman said. ¡°Not that you¡¯d be a danger to him right now, anyway. But good to know.¡±


    ¡°Who even were those assholes?¡± Lee asked.


    ¡°Probably Adelaide and pack,¡± the woman replied. ¡°They¡¯re from the Crucible Ridge originally, but half their pack was wiped out and then they had hunters on their trail that killed even more of their family. Had to retreat several times until they got here. It¡¯s not really that big a surprise that they reacted the way they did to intruders from the heartlands. They¡¯ll likely run further west now.¡±


    ¡°How big is the risk we¡¯ll run into others like that?¡±


    The woman shrugged. ¡°You didn¡¯t really expect to be welcomed with open arms everywhere, did you?¡±


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    ¡°That¡¯s different,¡± Lee said, sounding annoyed. ¡°If they had taken a swing at us, I wouldn¡¯t blame them. But they nailed my paws to the ground before we could even say hello, and would have ripped my throat out like I was some kind of mindless beast if Greg hadn¡¯t been there. I just ¨C dunno, expected a chance to defend myself. Not straight-up murder.¡±


    The woman didn¡¯t say anything to that. Silence fell, and Greg had almost dozed off by the time the woman asked:


    ¡°How¡¯re Ragna and the others? I take it they made it in time to save the humans?¡±


    ¡°Actually, they didn¡¯t,¡± Lee said. ¡°The humans sort of saved themselves. Or at least helped save themselves.¡±


    He told her the story of what happened at Oldstone Castle.


    ¡°So why didn¡¯t Neville come back as agreed? If he wasn¡¯t injured in the fight?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s helping out with the railway. They needed three ¡®elders¡¯ there, but too many got hurt. Also, Neville really didn¡¯t seem to mind this change of plans when I talked to him about it. I think he was quite happy at the prospect of going to the railway and sleeping inside a building on new moon.¡±


    The woman scoffed. ¡°Yeah, that does sound a lot like Neville.¡±


    Greg blacked out while they talked. He came to a few times, usually with Lee sitting at his side, sometimes Pierre or other werewolves. They all fed him honey and more ice every time he opened his eyes. Then he¡¯d usually lose consciousness again.


    The first time he woke up and felt strong enough to push himself up into a sitting position, there was a small crowd surrounding him, but strangely, no Lee in sight. Pierre himself offered him ice chips to wet his throat enough to ask about his companion.


    ¡°Lee decided to get back to your mission,¡± Pierre said. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about him,¡± the ancient werewolf added, before Greg could say anything. ¡°Edith went with him, she¡¯ll keep him out of the kind of troubles you just had.¡±


    ¡°What ¨C day?¡± Greg asked.


    He still couldn¡¯t raise his voice above a whisper.


    ¡°It¡¯s three days until full moon. Lee left the day before yesterday.¡±


    So Greg had been lying on his back in this cave for over a week.


    ¡°Don¡¯t strain yourself, kid,¡± Pierre said gently. ¡°Your throat is still all messed up. I was sure I¡¯d been too late when the pack brought you to me. Your windpipe was nearly crushed. It¡¯s a miracle they didn¡¯t sever the arteries.¡±


    ¡°Ice?¡± Greg asked.


    His throat did still ache, but the ice helped. Now that he had moved a little, his injured foot hurt, too, and everything else felt stiff and sore.


    ¡°You¡¯ll feel better after full moon,¡± Pierre reassured him. ¡°You won¡¯t be healed all the way, but hopefully, you¡¯ll be able to hobble around at bit.¡±


    Greg let another piece of ice melt in his mouth. ¡°How¡¯s ¨C foot?¡± he rasped once it was gone.


    Pierre patted Greg¡¯s good leg. ¡°Gertrude did her best to set the bones, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be fine. You were lucky there, too. A little higher and they would have messed up your ankle quite badly.¡±


    ¡°Doctor?¡±


    ¡°Gertrude? She used to assist her father. He was a veterinarian.¡±


    Of course, there wasn¡¯t a doctor here. Stupid question, really.


    ¡°We¡¯d like to have a doctor, of course, or a healer. But I don¡¯t think they get bitten often.¡± Pierre paused. ¡°Well, really, a healer wouldn¡¯t be much help.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Pierre smiled. ¡°Healers use magic, don¡¯t they? And magic doesn¡¯t work so well on werewolves. That¡¯s why we can fight the Rot. Strong enough magic can touch us, of course. But it¡¯s harder.¡±


    Greg very carefully reached for his neck. He felt dried blood and pulled the fingers away again. ¡°Infection?¡± he rasped.


    He felt weak and feverish, though that could just be the blood loss.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± Pierre said. ¡°It¡¯s healing much better than I feared it would. Full moon will take care of the worst of it.¡±


    Greg could see a somewhat forced smile on his face. ¡°Believe me, we¡¯re all very glad about that,¡± the elder continued. ¡°Nobody wants to give your brothers reason to pay us a visit.¡±


    Greg tried to smile back. He¡¯d have liked to tell Pierre that he needn¡¯t have worried, but asides from the fact that that would hurt too much ¨C it was a lie, too, wasn¡¯t it? Someone would come to find him if he didn¡¯t return.


    It might take a little longer, with Nathan unable to ride. But they would come.


    They had tried to find him before they had even known how he would turn out.


    Greg closed his eyes and slowly, carefully, leaned back.

 Chapter 89

    Greg came to his senses alone, in the snow and stark naked. It was still dark. He groaned a soft curse and hurried to turn wolf, which at least meant he was no longer at risk of freezing. Just hungry. And in pain. And lost.


    Oh, how he hated full moon.


    He tried to raise his head and howl for help, for someone to give him an idea which direction he needed to go to find the pack again. He barely managed more than a whine, and it burned like acid in his throat.


    He must have been close enough that someone heard him anyway, because he did get an answer. He limped towards the sound. As long as he didn¡¯t try to run, moving didn¡¯t hurt too much, but the paw was certainly not fully healed.


    After just a little distance, he caught a scent which the wolf knew to be from Pierre, and he followed that back to the caves where the pack resided during the winter.


    There you are, Gertrude greeted him just outside, and he followed her through the narrow entrance into the small system of caverns. He had to crouch low onto his belly, which made walking extremely painful, to get through the rather low opening. Luckily, after a few yards the cave opened up and he could move normally again.


    You¡¯re last, Gertrude informed him.


    Greg just limped onwards. The rest of the pack were already gathered around the fire pit in the biggest cave, which had a sort of natural chimney, so they weren¡¯t choking in the smoke. The thing that really made Greg feel better though was the smell of sizzling meat. Pierre was already busy cooking.


    Sun, but Greg was hungry. All he had eaten since the attack was honey and chips of ice. Hopefully, his throat was healed enough by now that he could chew and swallow something more solid.


    ¡°Ah, Greg,¡± Pierre welcomed him. ¡°Come in, come in. How¡¯s the foot?¡±


    Greg shrugged, which made Pierre frown.


    ¡°We really need to work on your conversational skills.¡±


    Some of the other werewolves sniggered, so Greg hobbled over to them and shook the remaining snow out of his fur. Then he moved into the corner in the back where his clothes were stashed.


    By the time he had managed to put at least a sock over his injured foot, Pierre was handing out steaks. Most of the others just ripped out chunks of hot meat with their teeth, but Greg didn¡¯t want to put that kind of strain on his throat yet, so he cut off small pieces to chew slowly and thoroughly.


    ¡°The food¡¯s okay?¡± Pierre asked.


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    Greg nodded. Swallowing still hurt and he didn¡¯t want to make it worse by talking, but when he tasted the meat, he couldn¡¯t stop himself from asking: ¡°Salt?¡±


    ¡°Lee showed us where it was in your pack,¡± Pierre explained. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    The pack ate mostly in silence. Greg supposed that after a decade or two of living together and little contact to others, there really wasn¡¯t much left to say.


    Indeed, Gertrude complained once she had finished eating: ¡°We need to teach him to communicate as a wolf. I bet he¡¯s got some good stories to tell. You¡¯ve read books and stuff, right? New ones?¡±


    Greg nodded, still chewing slowly on a bit of his second steak. It was cold, but still nice. He swallowed carefully and asked. ¡°Lee?¡±


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s way too far away,¡± Pierre said. ¡°No, we haven¡¯t heard anything from him. But that was to be expected.¡±


    Greg nodded. He¡¯d known that, of course, but he still would have liked some news. Some confirmation that these injuries weren¡¯t completely pointless.


    ¡°Anyone else?¡± he rasped. ¡°What about ¨C Red?¡±


    ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t talk,¡± Pierre admonished him. ¡°No, there¡¯ve been no news from the Red. I¡¯m pretty sure he hasn¡¯t moved, either. Can¡¯t be entirely certain, the distance being what it is ¨C but no, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s coming our way yet.¡±


    Greg let his head sag.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to make do with me.¡±


    Pierre¡¯s whole face crinkled even more when he smiled, making him look like a very old, shrunken apple. ¡°We talked about it, while you were unconscious. Lee told us all about the first battle the humans won. I¡¯m too old to go tooth and claw against the Rot, but I can certainly sit around a castle on new moon and watch the humans do the heavy lifting themselves.¡±


    Greg stared at the elder blankly. He wanted to laugh with relief, but that would hurt too much, and he had no idea what to say.


    This was ¨C this was huge! A second elder powerful enough to help others transform even on new moon?


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he finally said.


    Pierre just smiled again. ¡°Can¡¯t start moving until Lee and Edith get back,¡± he went on. ¡°They might not make it until spring, depending on the weather.¡±


    That dampened Greg¡¯s mood a little. He might need to leave earlier than that. If he was able to walk. Or could he send a message?


    For tonight though, he just leaned back against the wall of the cave. He had almost dozed off when Pierre looked around at his pack and wordlessly got up. Greg blinked when everybody else followed the elder, who was taking off his clothes. One after another, the werewolves slipped outside.


    Greg swore softly and limped after them on his socks, to see where they were going. He was surprised to see that they stopped right outside the cave.


    It was still mostly dark outside, though the sun was probably just about to rise. It was hard to tell, with the snow falling in heavy flakes from the thick clouds.


    The pack formed a half-circle, flanking Pierre left and right. While Greg still wondered what was going on, they threw their heads back and began to sing.


    There was no other word for it: They were all howling, but there was an unexpected harmony to it, a haunting melody. They even had different pitches, like a small choir.


    Greg wrapped his arms around himself, shivering in the cold, but made no move to duck back into the cave. There was no way he could have moved. The pack¡¯s music was beautiful, and it had completely transfixed the werewolf part of him. He felt that if he could only just join in, he would really become part of this amazing pack. He almost did, and damn his mangled throat. It took all his human willpower to stop himself.


    The pack sung until the sun had fully risen. Greg was so cold by then, he couldn¡¯t even feel his bad foot when he limped back inside.

 Chapter 90

    A man was waiting for David as he left his family¡¯s home in Deva. He had a pencil in one hand and a notebook in the other, which he was waving wildly.


    ¡°Lord Feleke!¡± he yelled. ¡°Lord Feleke, just a word!¡±


    David pretend not to hear or see the man while he walked over to the cab waiting to pick him up. Journalists. They were almost annoying enough to make him consider staying at Deva Castle.


    Almost.


    ¡°Just one of them this morning, Milord?¡± Antonio, the driver asked, grinning.


    ¡°Looks like it,¡± David replied gloomily.


    ¡°Might have more at the castle, of course,¡± the driver went on, prompting the horse with a flick of the whip.


    David just grimaced. He had given up on trying to brave the catastrophe that was traffic in Deva¡¯s inner city within his first week of returning, especially in the early morning darkness. Now he had to deal with his way-too-awake driver who picked him up every day. Antonio was a chatterbox, too, but he did get David through the worst of the mayhem with a minimum of delay. Mostly he did so by swearing and liberally using his whip against any obstacle that might be moved by it, though he only ever used the crack to spur on his own, very fine stallion.


    Antonio yelled at the driver of a heavy cart full of what looked like un-tanned leather. It certainly smelled of old blood and blocked the whole street because it sat diagonally across.


    David breathed flatly through his teeth until they had managed their way around the team of oxen.


    Just as Antonio had predicted, there were more reporters hoping for a good story waiting for his cab to stop on the parade-grounds of Deva Castle. It was easy to waylay David, since he was following the same routine since he had arrived at Deva a month ago, which was similar to his routine in Eoforwic: First, he went to the Castle¡¯s garrison, which included the underground cells where the newest group of freshly-bitten werewolves was being kept.


    Before David¡¯s arrival, they had been kept in the much larger city jail. Luckily, Duke Desmarais had given in to his insistence that he didn¡¯t want to travel across the city twice every day.


    ¡°You Lordship!¡± one of the men yelled. ¡°Your Lordship, for the Deva Gazette, just a quick question!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m busy,¡± David gave back. ¡°You can come downstairs with me, if you absolutely have to.¡±


    The man who had yelled after him backed away quickly, but there were some less experienced journalists who went the other direction.


    ¡°We can see the downstairs?¡± one young man asked.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t get in the way.¡±


    David didn¡¯t slow down on the stairs. Just like in Eoforwic, the werewolves were kept on the lowest level of the prison. Here in Deva, there was no guards¡¯ station, though. The stairs led directly onto the hallway with the cells.


    As soon as the group of journalists followed David to the dimly lit lower levels, two werewolves, one on each side of the corridor, smashed into the bars of their cells, howling and snarling and reaching for them by sticking their huge paws out between the steel.


    David grinned to himself when the reporters screamed and raced back up the stairs. The giant wolves stared after them, silently, and then started howling again, tongues hanging out. Just a few months ago, David would have worried about their sanity, but now he knew: they were howling with laughter.


    ¡°Thanks, guys,¡± David called over.


    ¡°Was ¨C did you make them do that?¡± a shrill voice asked.


    David spun around to see a terrified young woman sitting on the stairs, clutching her purse. She wore a very prim black dress, but looked a little dishevelled as if the mad stampede had knocked her over.


    ¡°What, you didn¡¯t think it was funny?¡± David asked.


    ¡°No!¡±


    Several werewolves laughed about her indignant tone, not just the two involved in the jump-scare.


    David offered the woman a hand. She glared at him, but accepted after a couple of seconds.


    ¡°This is a very dangerous trick you taught them!¡± she informed him.


    ¡°Not at all, Miss, your life was never in danger.¡±


    ¡°Not for me! For them! You can¡¯t go teaching them that it¡¯s okay to scare decent folk like that! They¡¯ll get killed once they¡¯re out of here!¡±


    David blinked, and then smiled. Before he could say anything, the werewolf to their right growled: ¡°Thanks, missy, but we ain¡¯t stupid. We know we can only do that while we¡¯re under his lordship¡¯s protection.¡±


    Her jaw dropped when she heard the voice and she looked around questioningly. Then she quickly covered her face with her hands.


    ¡°He¡¯s ¨C he¡¯s naked!¡±


    ¡°Well, obviously. Their clothes don¡¯t transform with them,¡± David explained. ¡°Put something on, will you, Matt?¡±


    Matt obligingly grabbed his pants.


    David threw another look at the young woman and moved on through the prison. There were more than twenty werewolves down here ¨C Matt was obviously still fine, but some of the others took longer to assess. The woman followed him, which was not helping. Her presence made the more skittish werewolves even more nervous.


    David sighed and turned back towards her. ¡°All right, fine, Miss. I¡¯ll answer one question.¡±


    ¡°Question?¡± she asked back blankly. ¡°Oh, yes! I mean ¨C I¡¯d really just like to see how you do this? It¡¯s very fascinating!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re making them nervous.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C I am making them nervous? What could I possibly do to them? They¡¯re the monsters!¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re no monsters,¡± David gave back. ¡°And this attitude is why they¡¯re wary of strangers. Just stay back here, please.¡±


    She actually did as he had told her, waiting the whole time until he had finished his round. It took him nearly two hours, since several of the werewolves were too agitated to communicate at all. It was hard to ascertain their state of mind while they wouldn¡¯t even nod or shake their head for him. At least one of them had either taken a rapid turn for the worse, or she was just terrified out of her mind. He¡¯d see tomorrow.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, may I ask what exactly you are trying to accomplish by talking to them like this? You treated them as if they were human?¡±


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    ¡°Some of them are essentially human,¡± David gave back. ¡°Twenty-eight days out of twenty-nine. Some of them are pretty much human while there¡¯s a crescent moon in the sky. All the sane ones are entirely human on new moon.¡±


    ¡°So what if one of them isn¡¯t sane?¡±


    ¡°Do you mean how I can tell?¡±


    ¡°No, I mean ¨C what if you waste your time on them?¡± she challenged. "What if they do go mad?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°I will not treat them all like animals just because there¡¯s a chance that some might change. Because that would make me the monster.¡±


    The young journalist noted that down. ¡°Innocent until proven guilty?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Quite so.¡±


    ¡°Why are you taking notes on everything they say and do?¡±


    ¡°There is still a lot we don¡¯t know about werewolves.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯ve been hunting them for how many years?¡±


    ¡°Fifteen years,¡± David said. ¡°More than half my life.¡±


    ¡°So what are you learning after all this time?¡±


    David sighed. ¡°Everything, pretty much. All I know about them is how they react when they¡¯re hunted, scared senseless and half starved. We¡¯re just starting to understand about the changes they go through right after they¡¯ve been bitten. If you want to know more about this, you could contact the new chair of magi-zoology at Deva University, Prof. Audenne.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, I will do so.¡±


    ¡°If you would excuse me now,¡± David went on. ¡°I have a busy schedule.¡±


    He waited until she nodded and walked ahead, back up the stairs. She smiled when he held the door for her, though he mostly wanted to make sure she really left. He did lock up behind himself and then tipped his hat at her, before he hurried across the parade grounds to the main entrance of the castle.


    He had an office there now, a small room on the same hallway where the larger rooms for the duke¡¯s war council and offices were. A stack of letters was waiting for him. The longest was the daily report from Lieutenant Fletcher, who was overseeing the werewolves who were still healing at Oldstone Castle. The weekly report from First Camp wasn¡¯t due until tomorrow. Some of the other places where werewolves had been stationed filed reports, too, though not nearly as regularly. Also, one of the werewolves who fought with Rust against the Rot wrote to him, though his messages reached David with more than a week of delay. They were also by far the most interesting.


    Rust and his group were actually making good progress in driving the Rot from the Stour valley. The reports did mention that it might partly be the frost that was keeping the ugly bastards underground, but David still filed it away as good news.


    David rubbed his face, struggling to concentrate on a mind-numbing report about everything the two werewolves he had placed at King¡¯s Haven did. Whoever had written it had just barely stopped short or mentioning every time one of them took a dump. It ended with a nervous request for him to confirm that this was all normal behaviour and that the two continued to pose no danger.


    He should have a secretary to pre-read this crap and craft a politer version of ¡°yes, for flame¡¯s sake, they¡¯re four years old, they¡¯re not going to turn mad!¡± which he then only had to sign.


    But how to find someone for that job? Someone who, ideally, knew how to deal with the bureaucracy of Deva Castle, but also knew how to spot if there really was an issue with a werewolf?


    He should probably just find some regular secretary with some experience, and teach them what they needed to know about werewolves. He could also try to talk Nathan into helping him, like Andrew had suggested, but then there¡¯d just be two country bumpkins with no real idea how to navigate the niceties of Deva Castle.


    David sighed and did his best to fashion an answer to the writer from King¡¯s Haven, trying not to sound too annoyed, though this was the third time in as many weeks he told them that all was well.


    David jumped and nearly spilled ink all over the paper when the door smashed open and Lord Clermont walked in.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, you¡¯re late!¡± the old general greeted him.


    David looked up and blinked in confusion. He had no meeting scheduled with the old general today?


    ¡°To your ¡®working lunch¡¯ with the dukes,¡± Clermont clarified.


    ¡°Of ¨C which you are not generally part?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Nah. No work gets done while Desmarais is stuffing his face. You missed my report on the state of the Loegrian troops, though.¡±


    ¡°My apologies. I was quite busy,¡± David replied. He didn¡¯t ask how it had gone ¨C Lord Clermont had kept him from his work for more than an hour a few days ago, complaining about the low standards for Loegrian soldiers compared to the Empire¡¯s elites.


    ¡°Checking on your werewolves, yes, yes. What¡¯s this?¡±


    Clermont had grabbed the report from King¡¯s Haven. ¡°Good grief,¡± he added, before David could say anything. ¡°That¡¯s the sort of crap you¡¯re wasting your time on? Even I can tell this guy is jumping at shadows! Get a clerk to deal with them! Or even better, have them replaced by someone who¡¯s got some balls!¡±


    ¡°Do you see any clerks around here?¡± David gave back.


    Clermont stared at him with his one, dark eye. After a few seconds he shook his head. ¡°You really are terribly inexperienced, aren¡¯t you? I¡¯ll have the steward send you someone this afternoon.¡±


    He put the letter back and turned towards the door. ¡°You better get going now, too.¡±


    David stared at the closing door, both relieved and annoyed. He often felt that way after a conversation with Clermont. He tended to get even more annoyed because it was clear that the old general was doing it on purpose.


    David sighed and glanced at the clock at the wall. Ten minutes past one. How on earth had he missed the tolling of the palace¡¯s bells?


    ¡°You¡¯re late, Lord Feleke!¡± Desmarais greeted him.


    David had no idea why the duke would even be bothered by his tardiness. It wasn¡¯t like they had waited for him to start their meal. When David looked over, George Louis smiled and made a show of licking his spoon.


    David glared at him, which only made George Louis grin wider.


    ¡°My apologies, Your Highness,¡± David said through gritted teeth.


    ¡°Have a seat,¡± George Louis said. ¡°What happened? Another issue with the werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Not so much the wolves.¡±


    David took his seat and told them how the werewolves had tried to scare the journalists and failed in case of the young woman.


    Both dukes seemed to find that quite funny, but George Louis asked: ¡°Is it safe, though? You said they reached through the bars for them?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s perfectly safe,¡± David sighed, filling his plate. ¡°Matt and Edwin are perfectly sane, and even if they weren¡¯t ¨C there¡¯s no danger, unless someone is silly enough to stand within arm¡¯s reach of the cells before they¡¯re sure what state of mind the inmate is in. And since the scientists and I are the only ones who go down there, usually, you really don¡¯t need to worry.¡±


    ¡°The scientists had to learn those lessons the hard way,¡± Duke Desmarais noted. ¡°Though I suppose they have all internalized it by now.¡±


    David nodded slowly. The students and professors he had met so far were all very diligent in their care. He¡¯d have to ask about the earlier blunders.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± he asked. ¡°Anything noteworthy happening this morning?¡±


    ¡°You missed Lord Clermont,¡± George Louis replied. ¡°He was here to give an in-person report on what he thinks of the troops he has at his disposal.¡±


    ¡°He was kind enough to share his detailed opinion on the state of training of our men with me two days ago, so I think I¡¯m already quite well informed.¡±


    Desmarais laughed as if David¡¯s words had been inordinately funny.


    ¡°Did you hear anything from the Stour?¡±


    ¡°Rust and his group are still making good progress,¡± David relayed. ¡°They¡¯re not entirely sure how much influence the weather has on the Rot, though. Could be they¡¯re not seeing much of it because the ground is frozen solid. They¡¯ll have to go along the river again in spring to make sure they didn¡¯t miss anything.¡±


    ¡°Well, damn,¡± George Louis muttered. ¡°I¡¯d hoped they could get it done during the winter. But fine. We can¡¯t take a risk there. Heard anything from Gregory?¡±


    ¡°No, but that doesn¡¯t mean much.¡±


    Duke Desmarais grimaced. ¡°So, to sum up the news of the day: We have soldiers that can¡¯t match the elites of the Empire, we may be wasting our time with the Stour valley, and we may not get any reinforcements, either. On the other hand, the alliance of imperialist nobles is growing every day.¡±


    David looked up from his plate. ¡°Someone else jumped ships? Who?¡±


    ¡°Theodore de Cauchy.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a name David recognized. Since neither duke looked like they were going to say more, he asked: ¡°How badly will that hurt us?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ¨C Baron de Cauchy has fought for the Empire as a young man. But it¡¯s less that his defection will hurt us, and more worrying in that the de Cauchy holdings lay north of the White Torrent,¡± Desmarais said.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t heard about this,¡± George Louis added. ¡°At least one of the daughters has fled to Wardshire? Your fianc¨¦e¡¯s steward there was the one who informed us?¡±


    David paused when he finally recognized the name. ¡°Theresa de Cauchy?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I believe so.¡±


    David nodded. He¡¯d have to send a telegram to Brines right away, let Lane know what was going on, in case she didn¡¯t already.


    Baron the Cauchy was the fourteenth lord to throw in with the Valoise, as far as David knew. The de Clares, unsurprisingly, were part of the group as well. The defectors had an army amassed around the city of Port Neath and a firm grip on the surrounding country side. They would likely take the city, which would give them a large, fortified harbour. Which meant that George Louis and his allies needed to take it back before the winter storms were over and the Valoise could send reinforcements.


    It was a huge headache, but one David didn¡¯t feel he could contribute much to solve. Indeed, as soon as the plates were cleared away, George Louis turned towards him and told him to get back to ¡°his¡± werewolves. David wasn¡¯t sure if George Louis was trying to be funny or insult him, but he was happy to do so either way.

 Chapter 91

    When David opened the door, there was a stranger inside his office, back turned towards him, rifling through the papers spread out on the table. He was probably a few years older than David, his hair strained with grey, and he wore a robe of nearly the same colour. David had half drawn his sword before he remembered that Lord Clermont had told him he would send someone.


    He still called: ¡°Hey? What do you think you¡¯re doing there?¡±


    The man turned around slowly, showing a face with a long nose on which a pair of spectacles was riding low.


    ¡°My apologies, Lord Feleke. Lord Clermont spoke to Lord Mire and I was sent here to take over as your right hand. Lord Clermont told me you were informed of this?¡±


    David nodded and finally entered all the way.


    ¡°My name is Grooch,¡± the man continued. ¡°I have worked at this palace all my life. I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t requested at least a secretary earlier. I do beg your pardon, Milord, but this is quite a mess. I took the liberty to start sorting these reports, and I have also drafted up a list of necessary personnel and materials, which I will need you to sign off on before I can pass it on to Lord Mire, who I¡¯m sure will approve it quickly. If there is anything else you might need, please let me know and I will requisition it. Lastly, with your permission, I will take over your correspondence with King¡¯s Haven, which appears to be a rather unprofitable waste of your time?¡±


    David blinked slowly, a little overwhelmed. He could request a staff? On whose authority? And more importantly, what budget? Trained secretaries probably didn¡¯t work for free?


    Grooch seemed rather confused by that question. He took his spectacles off and cleaned them with a sleeve. ¡°You ¨C were given a budget, Milord? You are listed with Lord Mire, the steward of this castle, as the official in charge of all werewolves matters. Obviously, there is a budget attached to this position. One of Lord Mire¡¯s hands should have sent you a letter with the details?¡±


    ¡°If they did, I have no idea where that letter has been sent to. It didn¡¯t arrive here.¡±


    David was fairly certain that he had read everything that had come to this room. But he wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if it had gone to Brines instead, or the family house in Deva ¨C he did remember a pile of unopened letters there, but he had simply assumed it was mail for his parents ¨C or possibly even Oldstone Castle, depending on when George Louis had formalized his position here. Or, less likely but still possible, this was some kind of elaborate practical joke of George¡¯s. It wouldn¡¯t have been the first time.


    ¡°Not to worry, Milord, I shall request a copy right away. But you did receive a formal document with your accreditation?¡±


    ¡°His Highness gave me a document stating that I¡¯m allowed to issue Crown Warrants on werewolves and follow through on them as well.¡±


    ¡°That is certainly useful, but not what I meant. With your permission, I will query his Highness¡¯s staff about that, too?¡±


    ¡°Go ahead. Also, have a seat.¡± David took his own chair and Grooch pulled up the single seat for visitors, which was only ever occupied by Lord Clermont, George Louis being apparently too busy to bother him.


    David would never admit it to the duke¡¯s face, but he was a little hurt by this.


    ¡°So, what else should I be aware of?¡±


    Grooch hesitated. ¡°Am I ¨C am I correct in assuming that you have never held an official position at court before?¡±


    ¡°I have been hunting werewolves since I was fourteen,¡± David confirmed, slightly annoyed about the question. ¡°So no, I have never had a comfy job working indoors before.¡±


    He very much wished he didn¡¯t have one now.


    Grooch visibly shuddered and took off his spectacles again to polish them. ¡°I assumed that was just a rumour,¡± he admitted after a moment. ¡°But that means you have never ¨C assembled a staff? Or dealt with the palace bureaucracy?¡±


    David nodded.


    ¡°Very well. Maybe we should start with this list of what I would like to requisition, with your permission.¡±


    David took the parchment the clerk offered him. In a very neat script, it listed both personnel ¨C two under-secretaries ¨C and materials. Everything from parchment and ink to additional rooms.


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    ¡°Why two secretaries?¡± David asked.


    Grooch pointedly looked at the stacks of reports on the desk. ¡°You are already receiving reports from over a dozen cities, and it is entirely possible that you will soon have reports from more than just that one werewolf, too. I was also given to understand that you are in regular correspondence with Deva University. Lastly, there are all these requests from journalists which you didn¡¯t even take out of the envelopes. For that alone, I calculate you will need at least one secretary.¡±


    ¡°I have no real intention of dealing with the press,¡± David gave back. ¡°It¡¯s bad enough that they are lurking around my home.¡±


    Grooch looked at him quizzically. ¡°I heard a rumour you sometimes take journalists with you down into the dungeon where the werewolves are kept?¡±


    ¡°Only so the werewolves can scare the crap out of them.¡±


    Grooch stared at him over the top of his spectacles. ¡°Milord, I have to very strongly advise you against risking injury to members of the public. Especially to those members of the public likely to write about it. Not if you want people to lose their fear of werewolves.¡±


    ¡°There was never any danger,¡± David grumbled. ¡°The werewolves are inside their cells, for flame¡¯s sake. They just make a lot of noise, that¡¯s all. Not my fault these people run screaming at the mere sight of them. And the young lady who followed me down this morning got over it quickly, too.¡±


    ¡°Really. What newspaper is she writing for?¡±


    David didn¡¯t remember.


    Grooch didn¡¯t show any hint of annoyance at that. The older man only just pushed his spectacles up his nose and said: ¡°I suppose we can send a runner into the city tomorrow to buy all the papers he can get.¡±


    ¡°Whatever for?¡±


    ¡°You do not wish to find out what they write about you? It might quite affect your work. Unless I was mistaken that you goal is not just the freedom of Loegrion, but also an improved standing of werewolves?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t have time to sift through a stack of papers every morning.¡±


    Grooch smiled for the first time. ¡°Of course not, Milord. That¡¯s what delegation is for. I shall inquire about our budget right away. If it is what I believe, we should hire someone to deal with that.¡±


    ¡°You do that,¡± David agreed. ¡°How are the chances of hiring someone who might take up my work with the werewolves here, in case I need to leave Deva for a time?¡±


    The secretary looked rather uneasy at that question. ¡°I cannot make any promises to that. Generally speaking, my colleagues are very much ¨C used to comfy jobs indoors. It might be easier to hire a werewolf hunter as your surrogate. Perhaps one of your brothers?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± David said. ¡°Though they¡¯re busy. Although once Greg is back from the Argentum Formation, he might be available. If you can work alongside a werewolf, that is?¡±


    Grooch hesitated again. ¡°So that is true, too? That one of your brothers is a werewolf?¡± he hedged.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here in the first place, yes.¡±


    ¡°Well ¨C I suppose... But, Milord, wouldn¡¯t it be wiser if it was your brother travelling the country, and you staying here, somewhere central?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a no,¡± David said. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll ask around if one of my old colleagues is looking for a government job.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that would be best,¡± Grooch said, looking extremely relieved.


    David nodded, and they went over the rest of the inventory list, then over all the work David would usually do. Once they were done, David felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulder. He actually left early enough that it wasn¡¯t yet completely dark outside ¨C the first time since he had returned to Deva ¨C happy to leave Grooch to write his letters for him. He¡¯d read them over tomorrow and sign them.


    For now, he was going to blow off some steam.


    Deva Castle didn¡¯t just have one area for fencing, but several. The largest one was the gymnasium where the Loegrian soldiers trained for war. David had gone there a couple of times before, but with the cadet school also using the place, it tended to get very crowded. A second set of training rooms were situated around a large arena in the heart of the palace. It had seating all around, and outside of the Season, it was the main matchmaking space of the palace: Young ladies flocked to the seats, and the eligible lords aimed to impress them either in the pit or on the sidelines. David could have easily upstaged most of the duellists, but he had no interest in their style of fighting, and anyway, he was supposedly spoken for.


    So he picked the third, smallest hall of fencing. Only about a dozen men were working out here, ranging from David¡¯s age to Lord Bloom, who was well past sixty. Nobody here bothered with the fancy new Valoisian style of fighting that was purely for sport ¨C the men who came here were dangerous with a blade. Several of them were veterans from one Valoisian campaign or another. At least half of them, David was certain, had already killed other men in duels.


    Lord de Clare had used to practise here, back when he¡¯d still been welcome at the castle.


    Nobody looked over in his direction when David found himself a space on the floor. Lord de Clare wasn¡¯t the only reason the place had a bit of a shady reputation, but really, the men who came here mostly just wanted to be left alone to their training.


    Just like David.


    He felt tired but good, relaxed, when he got back to the house. He told the servants to prepare him a bath, and in the meantime, he sat down in his father¡¯s study, grabbed a sheet of paper, and wrote another letter to Lane, explaining about Theresa and Grooch. He would send a telegram tomorrow morning as well, since the letter would take a few days to get there.


    He liked writing to Lane, liked reading her answers, too. Somehow penning all down made it easier to gather his thoughts, and she had a lot of insights into the palace intrigues. Unlike him, she hadn¡¯t been able to just stay away completely.


    He really, really would have liked her to come to Deva. He wondered, not for the first time, if she would come if he asked. In the end, he decided against it.

 Chapter 92

    Breakfast at the new Feleke-estate at Brines was always a somewhat awkward affair that passed mostly in silence. Especially since David had left for Deva after his very short holiday, Lane just had no idea what to talk about with Lord and Lady Feleke.


    Two years ago, they might have discussed hunting techniques and the werewolves they had gone after, close calls, and other adventures. But that was clearly inappropriate with Morgulon laying in a corner with her young, and anyway, it didn¡¯t look like Baron Feleke wanted to discuss his past occupation. In fact, Lane got a distinct feeling that the lord was adrift. All the day-to-day business of running the estates was handled by Lady Feleke, who clearly didn¡¯t need any help.


    So most of the conversation ¨C if there was any ¨C revolved around the baby-werewolves. Luckily, they provided at least a little to talk about every morning. Today, the family and guests had passed most of the meal discussing how Greg¡¯s daughters already came after him: The moon had gone from half to gibbous last night, and three of the five babies had transformed as if on cue. Only Greg¡¯s little ones hadn¡¯t. Morgulon kept poking them with her nose. There was no other adult werewolf around to translate, but Lane got the impression that she was a little ¨C miffed? Exasperated?


    Lady Feleke had both of the girls on her lap now and was rocking them gently. The lady was smiling contentedly to herself. Lane caught Nathan shaking his head at the sight ¨C both he and Andrew had expected there to be some kind of confrontation between their mother and Morgulon, but it had never come. Instead, on the afternoon of the babies¡¯ first full moon, Morgulon had snagged the lady by the sleeve to pull her over to the nest, pushed her into the pillows, and piled the cubs into her lap, and then climbed down into the basement for her transformation.


    There seemed to have been some sort of understanding between the two of them ever since.


    While Lane was trying to find an excuse to leave the table, the lady paused in the motion and shifted the two girls around to smell their diapers. She wrinkled her nose and, breaking the silence, told Morgulon: ¡°I don¡¯t know why you prefer them as wolves. At least they can poop without help in their human shape.¡±


    Morgulon huffed and washed the belly of one of the cubs.


    Lane didn¡¯t hear Lady Feleke¡¯s reply, because Andrew walked in, announcing:


    ¡°Telegram for you, Lane. From David.¡±


    Lane looked up from her plate in relief. ¡°Let me see. Good news?¡±


    ¡°Rather the opposite, I¡¯m afraid,¡± Andrew said, handing over the slip of paper.


    The message had only three short lines.


    ¡°Baron de Cauchy defects to Valoise STOP


    FYI Theresa at Wardshire STOP


    Found any werewolf hunter for help? STOP¡±


    Lane blinked and stared at the paper in shock.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Lord Feleke already asked.


    Lane shook herself. ¡°Uh, the father of a good friend of mine, Baron de Cauchy, joined up with the Valoise. My friend is apparently at Wardshire. I¡¯ll have to write to her right away.¡±


    ¡°You sure you can trust your friend?¡± Nathan broke his gloomy silence. ¡°She might have gone to Wardshire as a ruse, to spy on us.¡±


    ¡°Theresa knew about Morgulon before either of the dukes did. She could have made huge troubles for me earlier. And it¡¯s not like I¡¯ll pass on any sensitive information in a letter, anyway. Someone might intercept it.¡±


    Lane pushed her half-empty plate away and got up. She was almost up the stairs to the room where she was staying before she realized that Nathan had followed her. She paused, annoyed.


    ¡°Seriously, Nathan, I trust Theresa. We¡¯ve been friends for years.¡±


    Nathan shrugged, an awkward motion with the crutches. ¡°I¡¯m bored,¡± he said. ¡°And you¡¯re the only one doing anything right now.¡±


    Lane wasn¡¯t sure what to make of that.


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    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be doing much,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°You need to heal first.¡±


    Nathan sneered. ¡°Heal?¡± He wiggled the stump of his leg angrily. ¡°This isn¡¯t ever going to heal. I need something to do!¡±


    He slowly but determinedly went up the stairs after her. Lane sighed. ¡°David¡¯s telegram asked if I know any good werewolf hunters to help him,¡± she said once Nathan was almost at her height.


    ¡°Yeah, well, can¡¯t hunt, can I? Fat lot of good would I do to him.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need someone to go hunting,¡± Lane said. ¡°At least, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what he¡¯s asking about. His letters mentioned that he needs someone to look after the newly bitten werewolves, so he can travel if necessary, maybe visit other postings, maybe go south with the army.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s forehead furrowed. ¡°He writes to you a lot?¡±


    ¡°Once or twice a week, yes,¡± Lane said. She was surprised by the question but apparently, Nathan had been so caught up in his own grief that he hadn¡¯t noticed.


    ¡°What about? Or is that private?¡±


    Lane thought about it, but shook her head. ¡°Just all kinds of stuff. How much he hates Deva traffic, how the journalists follow him around, how the werewolves are doing, how much he feels out of his depth when dealing with the palace bureaucracy ¨C¡±


    Nathan stumbled and nearly fell down the steps again. Lane reached out to steady him.


    ¡°David ¨C David admitted to ¨C what?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Lane asked, because the way Nathan stared at her made her uncomfortable.


    ¡°I have known David for twenty-five years, and I can¡¯t remember him ever admitting that he was out of his depth,¡± Nathan said slowly. ¡°Not about important things. Oh, he¡¯ll make a joke about the little stuff, but something like that? You sure you don¡¯t want to marry him? Sounds like you¡¯d be good for him.¡±


    Lane laughed, mostly to hide her embarrassment. ¡°I might,¡± she said. ¡°Though I fear George Louis will do away with me if I suggest it.¡±


    Nathan laughed, too, and struggled up the last couple of steps. ¡°Anyway,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re gonna write a letter to your friend, then what? Go for a ride again?¡±


    Lane went for a ride every day, to get some fresh air and to get out of the house. She liked the Felekes, but she wasn¡¯t used to the level of affection and intimacy they so casually displayed, and it did get a little overwhelming at times.


    ¡°Want to come?¡± she added. Nathan was clearly fishing for an invitation.


    His injury would slow her down ¨C if he could even hold himself in the saddle at all and steer the horse at the same time. But she absolutely got his frustration with being cooped up inside all day and she was willing to try.


    Andrew was still at the breakfast table, coring and eating an apple, by the time Lane and Nathan made it back down. Lady Feleke was sitting a room over, visible through the open door, with both of her granddaughters slumbering in her arms.


    ¡°We¡¯re going for a ride,¡± Nathan announced.


    Lane saw his mother look up with a frown. Andrew did, too.


    ¡°Who¡¯s we?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Lane and I,¡± Nathan said.


    ¡°Nathan, you know what the doctor said.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t care. You might be happy sitting on your arse all day and stuffing your face, but I need to move. Asides. The doctor did say I should start moving about slowly again,¡± Nathan pointed out.


    ¡°Slowly, yes, not on horseback.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going crazy in here.¡±


    Andrew sighed and looked at Lane. She shrugged. The brothers had had this argument before.


    ¡°He¡¯s got to start somewhere,¡± she pointed out. ¡°Why not on horseback? The horse¡¯ll do most of the work.¡±


    ¡°What if you fall off, Nathan?¡± Lady Feleke interrupted.


    ¡°I won¡¯t, mum!¡± Nathan called back. ¡°But I might shoot myself if I have to sit around much longer!¡±


    Andrew rubbed his face. ¡°All right, fine,¡± he finally said. ¡°Guess it has to happen eventually. Mind if I join you?¡±


    ¡°If Dolly can still carry you,¡± Nathan griped. ¡°I don¡¯t need a minder.¡±


    ¡°Hilarious,¡± Andrew said, getting up. ¡°I¡¯ll come anyway.¡±


    Nathan glared at his brother but then turned over to Lane. ¡°Let¡¯s go?¡±


    Lane nodded and he hobbled ahead, surprisingly quick on his crutches. At least on the even ground of the hallway.


    He did need help getting his horse saddled, a fine, very lively stallion, if maybe a little more nervous than Lane would have expected from a horse trained for hunting werewolves. Andrew heaved him into the saddle and held on until he found his balance.


    ¡°Want me to strap you to the saddle?¡±


    Nathan waved him off. ¡°I¡¯m good. I need to figure out how to do this. I¡¯m not taking the coach for the rest of my life. ¡±


    Andrew didn¡¯t look convinced, but backed away. ¡°Just don¡¯t fall,¡± he warned while he climbed into Dolly¡¯s saddle.


    Nathan, in answer, spurred the stallion into a quick trot so that Lane and Andrew had to hurry after him. Lane smiled, enjoying the wind in her hair, and heard Nathan laugh once in relief. After a minute or two, he actually let go of the reins and spread both his arms wide. There was a look of intense concentration on his face, though, and Lane could tell that he had difficulties staying in the saddle. With only one good leg, he had to sit the trot instead of rising with the horse¡¯s movements, which he wouldn¡¯t be used to.


    He very nearly lost his balance when the stallion got spooked and broke into a full gallop.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± he swore but managed to cling to the saddle horn and rein the horse in, too. He waved irritably when Andrew moved Dolly closer and asked if he was all right, but slowed the stallion to a walk. Lane and Andrew flanked him from both sides. His expression had clouded again.


    ¡°I knew a guy who lost a foot but still went back to hunting,¡± Lane ventured carefully.


    Nathan¡¯s head snapped around. ¡°How? I got no proper grip on one side.¡±


    ¡°Oh, just a peg leg, with a wooden foot attached,¡± Lane said. ¡°So he had two ¡®feet¡¯ in the stirrups. He had one just for riding and switched them out, if I remember correctly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try that then, soon as the doctor lets me try a peg leg. What happened to the guy?¡±


    ¡°Died of drink, as far as I know,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Ah, well,¡± Nathan said. ¡°At least he didn¡¯t fall off his horse.¡±

 Chapter 93

    Nathan was still very quiet when they got back to the house after just an hour. His dark skin had taken on a greyish hue that made Lane wonder just how much pain he was really in. She considered going for another ride ¨C usually, she would have stayed out at least until lunch ¨C but then she went to find the letter in which David had first mused how he might need a second werewolf-hunter in case he ever had to leave Deva.


    She had to knock twice on Nathan¡¯s door before he reacted. His voice sounded thick, heavy.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you,¡± he muttered when she opened the door. ¡°C¡¯m¡¯in.¡± He seemed to notice that he was slurring some of his words, because he added: ¡°Sorry, I just took more of the opium.¡±


    ¡°I thought you might like to see David¡¯s letter,¡± Lane said, a little uncertain suddenly if this was a good idea. ¡°I don¡¯t want to bother you, though, I can just leave it here?¡±


    ¡°No, please ¨C I can use a distraction,¡± Nathan said, waving at her to come further into the room. ¡°M¡¯foot hurts.¡±


    ¡°Your ¨C foot hurts?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, my damn foot hurts. The foot that isn¡¯t even there anymore!¡± he growled, and threw himself back onto his bed. ¡°It¡¯s like someone is shoving an ice pick up my heel, except I don¡¯t have a heel at that side anymore, do I?¡±


    He reached out with his hand to the end of his leg, as if he needed to make sure the foot was really gone. ¡°I¡¯m not crazy,¡± he muttered. ¡°Or making this up. It really does hurt.¡±


    ¡°I believe you,¡± Lane said, which seemed to be the right thing to say. He relaxed a little, his head sinking back onto the bed, arms spread wide on both sides.


    Lane stood in the middle of his room, feeling very awkward. The only chair was covered in a heap of clothes.


    ¡°C¡¯mere,¡± Nathan muttered. ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there, sit down.¡± He patted the bedcovers. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna try anything,¡± he added. ¡°I get it, you like women, hey, I do too!¡±


    Lane couldn¡¯t help it, she laughed, though it wasn¡¯t exactly the first time she heard that. She sat down on the bed as Nathan had indicated and spread out her skirts, mostly to have something to do with her hands.


    ¡°You really think I could help David?¡± Nathan asked.


    Lane offered him the telegram slip from this morning. Nathan only glanced at it before handing it back.


    ¡°He¡¯s not asking for me,¡± he said, somewhat sullenly. ¡°Only a werewolf hunter.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s got no idea you¡¯re recovered enough to sit on a horse,¡± Lane pointed out. ¡°Of course he¡¯s not asking for you. You know David. He¡¯d rather waste weeks dealing with some half-competent stranger than risking to hurt one of his brothers.¡±


    Nathan chuckled bitterly. ¡°Yeah, you got him figured out.¡±


    He rubbed his face. ¡°So what¡¯re you suggesting? I just ride into Deva and storm his office?¡±


    ¡°You could,¡± Lane said. ¡°Or you could send a letter first, ask what he would actually need you to do. Maybe stick around here until you can get that peg leg you talked about, since you¡¯ve already got a doctor and healer at hand here.¡±


    ¡°That sounds reasonable. I hate reasonable. Especially if reasonable means I have to sit inside for another month or two.¡±


    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t have to, though,¡± Lane pointed out ¡°If you feel better later, we can go for another ride after lunch. I¡¯m sure that¡¯ll get Andrew outside, too, which certainly won¡¯t hurt him.¡±


    Lane felt a little bit bad about the last quip ¨C Andrew wasn¡¯t really overweight, and he went for long walks every day, no matter the weather ¨C but Nathan snorted softly in reply, so that was a good thing.


    ¡°No promises,¡± he said.


    Lane shrugged. ¡°If you don¡¯t feel up for a longer ride, we can always take the train into Eoforwic.¡±


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    Nathan nodded. Lane could see that he had closed his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m just scared I¡¯ll have that pain forever,¡± he said, very quietly. ¡°It¡¯s not like there¡¯s any magic to fix something that isn¡¯t even there anymore, is there?¡±


    Lane had no answer to that. Luckily, Nathan didn¡¯t seem to expect one.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been scared of pain before,¡± he went on after a moment. ¡°But it was always ¨C always a transient thing, you know? Like, yeah, this hunt is uncomfortable, or I broke my arm, but I always knew it would get better. This?¡±


    He rubbed his face. ¡°This won¡¯t get better.¡±


    Lane nodded silently. She couldn¡¯t imagine losing a leg, a foot, a hand ¨C any limb. Nathan sighed and stared at the ceiling. He looked so dejected, Lane bit her lips. She had no idea what to do, but she had to say something, didn¡¯t she? But what did you say in a situation like this?


    ¡°I thought the same thing,¡± she said finally, quietly. ¡°After Morgulon killed my mother and I was suddenly alone with my father ¨C with this crazy fanatic who hated everything I was, everything I represented. I was eight years old and I missed her so much. And I thought there was no way I¡¯d survive, no way my life would ever be anything but miserable.¡±


    She closed her eyes at the memories, forced them back down again.


    ¡°Yet here I am,¡± she went on. ¡°I¡¯d like to claim that I saved myself. That I picked up the crossbow to fight my way out or even that I paid him back. But I didn¡¯t. I never even talked back, I was way too scared for that. All I did was survive it, somehow. I wasn¡¯t a rebel, no matter what people say these days. Even when I started hunting, I did it because it was something he approved of.


    It¡¯s funny,¡± she continued. ¡°To think that the thing ¨C the person who put me into that horrible situation ¨C was the same one who got me out of it. And while she had this huge, terrifying impact on my life, Morgulon probably never spared me a thought.¡±


    She took a deep breath. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m rambling. My point is ¨C my point is, there was a time in my life ¨C more than one time ¨C when I thought about creeping down to my father¡¯s study and taking his pistol to my temple, because I just couldn¡¯t imagine how things might ever get better. But they did. Somehow, they did. And it wasn¡¯t anything I caused. Earned. Or deserved. It wasn¡¯t that I made a plan, or had some brilliant idea, or did this great, brave deed ¨C it was just Morgulon deciding that she had enough of my father sending hunters after her.¡±


    Lane broke off, staring down at her hands. ¡°People keep saying ¡®things happen for a reason,¡¯ and I hate that sentence. Because there¡¯s no plan. Mithras doesn¡¯t actually want people to suffer, no matter what my father said. There¡¯s no point to all the shitty things that happen to people. They just come out of nowhere, and they blindside you, and they hurt like hell. But the good things are the same way: You don¡¯t see them coming. Greg had no idea what he was starting when he protected his railway crew, yet he made this whole revolution possible.¡±


    ¡°Good things come to those who wait?¡± Nathan asked, not sounding convinced.


    ¡°No,¡± Lane said. ¡°If you can reach it, grab whatever it is you want. If you see a way out of a bad situation, take it. But sometimes we can¡¯t see the solution, the way out. And then it¡¯s enough just to survive, to push through. So that something good that you never wanted and never expected ¨C never imagined ¨C can happen to you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right in that regard at least,¡± Nathan muttered. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine how this might get better.¡±


    He looked up at her. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you do it?¡± he asked. ¡°Take your father¡¯s pistol, I mean.¡±


    ¡°I was too scared.¡±


    ¡°Of dying?¡±


    ¡°No. Of getting caught. Of him knowing, somehow. Of hell, too, but mostly of my father.¡±


    She shuddered, and changed the topic quickly: ¡°Where do you think Greg is now?¡±


    For a second, she thought Nathan would stick with the morbid conversation, but then he said: ¡°He¡¯s probably cursing his existence as much as I am right now. I think you had it wrong,¡± he added: ¡°Fate exists. It just has a really shitty sense of humour and loves cruel irony. Because if Greg¡¯s and my positions were reversed? We¡¯d be both so much better off.¡±


    ¡°Really. You think you¡¯d make such a great werewolf?¡± Lane teased.


    ¡°Screw you, I¡¯d be the best werewolf. I don¡¯t even mind sleeping rough as a human! Can you imagine Greg in the snow up there? On new moon? Hell, I hope Lee knows how to make some decent shelter, because Greg sure sucks at it.¡±


    Nathan sat up abruptly. ¡°And, you know, I bet Greg could find something to do if he couldn¡¯t walk anymore. He¡¯d just, dunno, become a poet, or politician, or something, like Mr. Higgins hoped. I¡¯d risk it,¡± Nathan added. ¡°Being a three-legged wolf, I mean. They cut off my foot using good old steel, didn¡¯t they? So it might grow back. If the odds were just a little better...¡± He shook his head. ¡°Scratch that. Fifty-fifty? I¡¯d take that, if it wasn¡¯t David who¡¯d be the one to put me out of my misery if it goes badly.¡±


    Nathan fell quiet, staring out of the window. His expression was less distraught than it had been a moment ago, though. He heaved a sigh and then focused on Lane again.


    ¡°I wish I could have gone with Greg,¡± he said. ¡°But you said you had a letter to show me?¡±


    Lane handed it over, and they talked about it until it was time for lunch. It was probably more than Nathan had talked in the month since the battle at Oldstone Castle, even though he was mostly asking her questions.


    ¡°It¡¯s weird that you guys all know so little about what¡¯s going on at Deva Castle,¡± Lane said when she handed him his crutches.


    ¡°Nah,¡± Nathan said. ¡°That¡¯s just David and me. Andrew has been there for every Season except this last one, and Greg too. David was worried about George Louis ratting him out to the Inquisition, and well, me, I just hate the city. The palace all the more.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯d still go there now?¡± Lane asked.


    Nathan waved one of the crutches. ¡°Hate feeling useless, too. If David thinks I can be of help, I¡¯ll do it.¡±

 Chapter 94

    For about half an hour, during lunch, Nathan was almost back to the guy Lane remembered him being, talking animatedly, teasing Andrew in a more good-natured way than before, and laughing with Thoko. But by the time a serving girl brought in dessert, his expression had turned wooden again. One of his hands was clamped around his knee, and he didn¡¯t touch the small cake-squares.


    ¡°They¡¯re from my home country,¡± Imani explained before Lane could ask. ¡°Baseema.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re very good,¡± Lane said. They were, but had a flavour she couldn¡¯t place at all.


    ¡°We have to enjoy it while we can,¡± Imani sighed, taking another piece. ¡°It¡¯ll be impossible to get the ingredients soon.¡±


    Andrew helped himself to seconds, and, just as Lane excused herself from the table to help Nathan upstairs, thirds too. She was therefore a little surprised when she had barely closed her door behind herself and he knocked.


    ¡°Want to go for a walk?¡± he asked.


    Lane glanced at the window. Outside, there was a mix of rain and snow falling. She grimaced but nodded. ¡°Think I can borrow a raincoat and hat?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Andrew said. ¡°This way.¡±


    Just as Lane stepped out of the room, Lady Feleke came up the hallway. She smiled when she saw Andrew. ¡°I see you¡¯re already on it,¡± she said, and walked away again.


    Lane couldn¡¯t help but roll her eyes.


    ¡°So how¡¯s Nathan?¡± Andrew asked, as soon as they were out in the street.


    ¡°You know, you could just talk to him directly?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love to. Unfortunately, he isn¡¯t really speaking to me. Unless you count insults.¡±


    Lane grimaced. ¡°He¡¯s in pain.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t sure herself if that was an answer to his question or a defence of his second statement.


    ¡°Still?¡± Andrew asked, clearly surprised. ¡°The healer said the wound was closed and he couldn¡¯t do anything more.¡±


    ¡°He feels pain in the foot that isn¡¯t there anymore,¡± Lane explained. ¡°I don¡¯t think a healer can fix that. He certainly doesn¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he mentioned that. But how can a limb hurt that isn¡¯t actually there? That¡¯s ¨C that doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell him that. In fact, that might be why he¡¯s no longer talking to you, you realize that?¡±


    ¡°But you can¡¯t tell me ¨C¡°


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard about it before,¡± Lane interrupted him. ¡°I used to sometimes help with the Salvation Effort as a girl, saw a lot of war invalids from the Kujawen campaigns. Many people who have lost limbs still feel like it¡¯s there, or feel like it hurts. I already wrote a letter to my friend Theresa, I''ll add a question about it when we get back. She¡¯s worked with the Salvation Effort all her life, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll know more.¡±


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is he is in pain, and there¡¯s nothing a healer or a doctor can do.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s certainly in pain,¡± Lane said. ¡°And no, the healer can¡¯t do anything about it. The doctor should at least know about it.¡±


    ¡°Think there¡¯s any chance it¡¯ll get better?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Lane admitted. ¡°As I said, I¡¯ll ask Theresa.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± Andrew muttered, kicking a stone across the path. ¡°After this morning, I had really hoped we could start getting him in the saddle again properly. Maybe even figure out how he can walk on a wooden leg.¡±


    He buried his hands in his pockets and walked on in silence, his strides long enough that Lane had to hurry a little to keep up. Only when they reached Brines proper did he slow down again. He seemed to know most of the other people in the street, who greeted him friendly. He didn¡¯t stop to chat, though.


    ¡°What are your plans for the future?¡± Lane asked, once the village lay behind them. It was just a hunch, but something about his disappointment at Nathan¡¯s condition struck her as personal. ¡°I was just wondering ¨C David said you wanted to quit hunting even before Greg got bitten? What were you going to do instead?¡±


    ¡°My plans?¡± Andrew laughed wryly. ¡°Nothing grand. Just, you know, survive the war, keep my brothers alive, find a nice girl, settle down. I wanted to go to university, but now I¡¯m not sure anymore.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I originally wanted to get into botanical studies, travel Valoir and my mother¡¯s home country. Can¡¯t do that now.¡± Andrew shrugged. ¡°Mind you, I¡¯d still like to travel. Maybe introduce some of my mother¡¯s favourite vegetables from her home around here. Maybe found my own orangery, you know?¡±


    ¡°Really? That sounds awesome!¡±


    Lane looked at him. He actually looked embarrassed at her outburst.


    ¡°Yeah, well, I like food. I¡¯d like to learn how to grow more of it. More variety.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see it,¡± Lane said. ¡°Maybe you can go west instead. If you can figure out how to grow coffee around here, people¡¯ll make statues of you.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Andrew laughed, pulling up his shoulders awkwardly.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± Lane added, because she wasn¡¯t sure he believed her. ¡°People always need food, don¡¯t they? Good food is important.¡±


    ¡°Says the woman who seems to fast every other day.¡±


    ¡°That just means I appreciate some nice vegetables on the days when meat is forbidden,¡± Lane countered. ¡°Got a girl in mind to settle down with?¡±


    Andrew shook his head, looking down at his feet. ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°That sounds more like a yes. Come on, what¡¯s the catch?¡±


    Andrew bit his lips. ¡°You know how you¡¯re technically a mile above David¡¯s station? Same thing. Her father will never allow it. Not even if you and David marry. Not even if the duke makes him a count in his own right.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s her name?¡±


    ¡°Charlotte de Burg.¡±


    Lane blinked. ¡°Oldest daughter of the Marquess of Southshire?¡±


    ¡°Quite so.¡±


    Well... that was a bit of a problem, Lane had to admit. De Burg was a rich, powerful Marquess, probably second to only the Dukes George Louis and Desmarais.


    ¡°I mean, if George Louis makes David a full duke...¡± Andrew stopped himself, shook his head. ¡°Even then. I¡¯d have to tell him that David talked about making me his heir, and well. Can¡¯t risk that.¡±


    ¡°Does she know?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Or rather, feel the same way?¡±


    ¡°Why do you think she¡¯s still unmarried?¡±


    ¡°I thought that was because her father and brother are rather overprotective,¡± Lane said. Charlotte had turned down her fair share of suitors, even men from the mainland. Rumour had it that her father was holding out for a prince.


    Lane had to grin when she realized that the prince Charlotte was waiting for was walking right next to her. It did seem unlikely that her father would ever agree to this union. But then again, it had seemed impossible a year ago that they might ever beat the Valoise.


    ¡°It¡¯s ¨C well, I was hoping Nathan would get better soonish,¡± Andrew said quietly. ¡°So we could both go to Deva. Help David. And I¡¯d see her again. You know, at least for a bit.¡±


    He shook himself. ¡°Can¡¯t be helped, though.¡±


    Lane nodded slowly, glancing up to him. She had never involved herself in other people¡¯s relationships before. But she had never had friends like the Feleke-brothers before, either.


    ¡°I could write to Charlotte,¡± she offered. ¡°Just ¨C as one young lady to another. We do usually talk a bit when I¡¯m at the palace, so I doubt her father would notice, if, you know, there happened to be a flower or two between the pages.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d do that?¡± Andrew asked, sounding unnecessarily surprised.


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯m writing a lot of letters anyway, it¡¯s not like I got much to do around here.¡±


    ¡°Asides from getting dragged out of the house in all weather by us.¡±


    Lane raised her eyebrows at him. ¡°What, you really think I¡¯d rather sit inside and do needlepoint?¡±


    Andrew just smiled wryly in reply.


    Back at the house, Lane added a few lines to her letter to Theresa, to ask about the strange pain Nathan still felt. Then she wrote to David, too, to thank him for the telegram and tell him about the ride Nathan and she had taken in the morning. Also to ask him about what exactly he would need Nathan to do if he came to Deva. The letter to Charlotte had more time; Andrew wanted to think about what he might include for her.


    Nathan rode into Brines with her the next day to drop off the letters at the post office, which had been added to the railway station only recently. Half the people of the village seemed convinced that it had only been placed there because of the new Feleke-estate. Nathan clearly wasn¡¯t comfortable with the attention he got while he waited for Lane in front of the small office ¨C bringing his crutches would have been too much of a hassle, so he just stayed in the saddle and Lane dropped the envelopes off.


    ¡°If you really want to go to Deva, you¡¯ll need to get used to people wanting to shake your hands,¡± she warned him when they rode back.


    Nathan grimaced. ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± he sighed. ¡°Honestly? Two months ago this whole attention wouldn¡¯t have bothered me. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m not used to being hailed a hero for killing monsters, you know? But this whole ¡®sorry for your loss¡¯ bullshit is hard to take.¡±


    He clicked his tongue to spur his stallion.


    ¡°Are we in a hurry?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Nah. My thighs are killing me, though. I wouldn¡¯t have expected riding to be so much more exhausting.¡±


    He was quiet on the way back, until the house came in sight and he said: ¡°I¡¯d never thought I¡¯d say this after barely an hour in the saddle, but I wanna go home and just sit down in a chair for a bit.¡±


    So that was what they did, sitting around Morgulon¡¯s nest and playing board games. Nathan was good at chess, which surprised Lane because he seemed rather bored by it. Maybe that was just the way he looked when he concentrated.


    The doctor came around the next day to check on Nathan. Lane wasn¡¯t in the room to hear exactly what was said, but when Nathan walked the elderly man to the door, she got the feeling that the doctor was impressed with his patient¡¯s progress. He complimented Nathan on how nimble he was on his crutches and encouraged him to keep practising.


    Nathan seemed relieved when he walked into Lane¡¯s room afterwards, enough so that she asked: ¡°Good news?¡±


    ¡°Fairly good, yes. Doctor said there¡¯s no telling when, but there¡¯s a good chance that this weird pain will get better. Less often, at least.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, me too. He says he¡¯s going to get in contact with someone who can make me a pegleg, too. If I¡¯m lucky, I¡¯ll be walking come new year.¡±


    ¡°Allready?¡± Lane asked, surprised.


    New Year, that was less than two weeks away.


    ¡°Well, standing without crutches at least,¡± Nathan amended. He ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Any word from David?¡±


    ¡°Not yet. He may not even have my letter yet,¡± Lane reminded him.


    The mail¡¯s speed had improved with the railway lines, but it was also harder to predict how long it took for a message to get anywhere.


    ¡°Right,¡± Nathan muttered.


    He had written a couple of letters himself, so they went on another ride to the post office, and after that, it was another slow afternoon spent watching the cubs. One of the male ones had opened his eyes, and in complete overestimation of his abilities promptly tried to push out of the nest. He didn¡¯t get very far, of course.


    As soon as he was off the blankets and on the colder wooden flooring, he began to whine pitifully.


    Morgulon rolled her eyes, ears flattened back against her head.


    ¡°Hey now, nobody made you crawl out of the blankets and onto the floor,¡± Thoko voiced what his mother was clearly thinking. She picked up the little runaway and raised him to her face. The tiny werewolf¡¯s nose worked quite hard, and then he sneezed into her eyes. ¡°Oh really? First you try to escape, then you complain about the cold, and now you¡¯re not happy about who¡¯s rescuing you?¡±


    Thoko laughed and put him back down next to Morgulon.


    ¡°They¡¯re much closer in development to human babies than wolves, aren¡¯t they?¡± she added. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about wolves, but I feel like dog puppies should be walking around at two months?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Lord Feleke answered. ¡°If they were following the same timeline as regular wolves, they¡¯d be up and about by now, playing and mock-hunting.¡±


    Morgulon sighed and rolled onto her side. She probably couldn¡¯t wait for that day to come. Lane felt uncomfortable, stuck inside as she was. Morgulon had never left the cubs for more than a quarter, half an hour at the most. That had to get exhausting after two months.


    Especially since the family probably wouldn¡¯t get out until spring came around.


    ¡°Are you wishing for an emergency at the railway yet?¡± Lane asked the werewolf.


    Morgulon laughed her wolf-laugh, tongue lolling out of her muzzle. She thumped her tail lazily but shook her head at the same time.


    Lane smiled back. It was a nice afternoon, with Nathan¡¯s good news and another cub opening his eyes. But time was ticking by fast, even though it felt like it was crawling ¨C three more months, maybe four, and the Valoise would be standing at their coasts again. And there was no word from Greg, and very little good news from the south of the country.

 Chapter 95

    Lane kept glancing over to Nathan as she and the two Feleke-brothers made their way across Eoforwic¡¯s train station. Getting on and off the waggon had been tricky for Nathan, but he seemed to move easily enough with only a short spear as a walking cane. He even led his stallion himself. The weapon had a silver tip, too, since Nathan had wanted something more ¡°versatile¡± than a walking stick.


    Lane still wasn¡¯t entirely sure if this was a good idea: The day that Nathan had first walked a few unsure steps on his new wooden leg, a letter from David had arrived to ask if Nathan would check on the werewolves at First Camp ¨C once he was fit to travel, obviously. Maybe Lane shouldn¡¯t have shown him that message, because Nathan had promptly decided that he was good to go right away.


    Andrew had managed to slow him down by pointing out that they should first check on the new group of recently bitten werewolves at the Lackland Company¡¯s headquarters. It was lucky they did that, because the company had hired someone to replace David ¨C he was an older man who had worked as a gamekeeper all his life but was getting too old now to handle being outside in all weather all the time. Officially, he had never met a werewolf before.


    So they had taken a couple of weeks to train the new guy, the three of them explaining as much about werewolves as they could. Andrew had even dragged his father out of the house to pitch in. Lane felt that they were leaving the werewolves not just in capable hands, but also the hands of someone who wouldn¡¯t make them suffer more than necessary.


    But here they finally were, on their way to First Camp.


    Lane ducked her head and smiled when she noticed the half-grabbing motion Andrew made while Nathan led his horse up the ramp into the train that would take them north. He didn¡¯t offer his help aloud, though, and Nathan didn¡¯t ask for it.


    The younger Feleke did seem relieved when they sat down in the first of the two passenger waggons. Their compartment was a lot more comfortable than Lane had expected, with nice, plush seats.


    Andrew looked around and shook his head. ¡°Bugger me,¡± he said. ¡°An actual First Class.¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you the one who booked the tickets?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°Yeah, well ¨C I just thought the guy at the company had a weird sense of humour. Or, you know, that First Class just meant ¡®not sharing space with the life stock¡¯. Some wooden seats at best. Who on earth takes the First Class to get to First Camp?¡±


    ¡°Good question. All the navvies went to the other waggon,¡± Lane noted.


    ¡°The navvies ride for free, if slightly less comfortably,¡± said a stranger who was just entering the compartment. He was followed by two more men in good suits, one middle-aged, the other younger. ¡°Pardon me for the interruption, Madam and Sirs. Leonard Jones. I just overheard your question.¡±


    Andrew shook the hand Jones offered. ¡°I take it you¡¯re an engineer for the railway then?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Jones said. ¡°I¡¯m a merchant? Of Jones and Stokes Colonial Goods? Even now, we¡¯re the best place in Eoforwic if you need something exotic for your kitchen. You never heard of us?¡±


    His face fell a little.


    ¡°We¡¯re not from Eoforwic,¡± Lane said quickly.


    ¡°Oh, of course, I should have known. Where from?¡±


    ¡°Deva,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Very nice. Pleased to meet you. This is my partner, Eckhart Stokes, and his son Oswin.¡±


    ¡°What brings you out to First Camp?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Are you supplying the workers?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, we do not hold that contract, Madam. This is a pleasure-outing. We want to see the progress on the bridge and the newest changes in the land. You¡¯re with the railway, I take it?¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The train had started to move, and they all made themselves more comfortable in their seats. Lane had a hard time not staring at the three. How much had changed at First Camp that people now went there for pleasure trips?


    ¡°We¡¯re on our way to check on the werewolves at the camp,¡± Andrew took up the conversation again.


    ¡°You¡¯re werewolf hunters.¡±


    Stokes senior apparently had noticed their crossbows only now. All three of the merchants suddenly looked apprehensive. ¡°I thought that was illegal these days.¡±


    ¡°Not quite,¡± Andrew said. ¡°But there are lots of new laws and regulations, yes. We¡¯ve been sent here by the new office in charge of all werewolf affairs ¨C they¡¯re still working at the name ¨C to ensure the rules are being followed.¡±


    ¡°By the werewolves or the people?¡± the younger Stokes asked shrewedly.


    ¡°Both, actually,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°So what do you do, exactly? There are a lot of contradicting rumours around the city.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes?¡± Lane asked. ¡°What do they say?¡±


    ¡°Well, half the people claim you folks find new werewolves, the other half says you kill the ones who won¡¯t side with the dukes, and the other half swears Deva now sentences all their prisoners to be bitten to make new werewolves. Except sometimes it¡¯s volunteers, not prisoners.¡±


    Lane didn¡¯t comment on the three halves in that statement. ¡°All true,¡± she said instead. ¡°Well, except for the part where we kill werewolves who won¡¯t side with the dukes.¡±


    ¡°What about the prisoners? Surely that can¡¯t be true?¡± Stokes senior asked. ¡°That sounds awfully daft, turning a murderer into a werewolf and expecting them not to go around killing people.¡±


    ¡°There are certain prisoners who¡¯re given a choice between the bite and the rope,¡± Andrew said. ¡°However, as you already guessed, no murderer is given the option. No violent criminals at all.¡±


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s a relief.¡±


    ¡°Some other people volunteer, too,¡± Lane went on. ¡°People who¡¯re deadly ill.¡±


    ¡°So what do you do?¡± the younger Stokes asked.


    ¡°Only about half the newly bitten werewolves retain their sanity,¡± Andrew said. ¡°While the other half turns into the kind of monster all the old stories warn about.¡±


    ¡°So is there danger at First Camp?¡±


    ¡°No, this is just a routine visit,¡± Andrew reassured the three. ¡°As long as all the right precautions are taken, especially around full moon, there is very little danger posed by the werewolves currently working for the railway. However, if people get careless ¨C well, we want to make sure there are no accidents.¡±


    ¡°Ah, a surprise inspection? Jolly good! I¡¯ll admit, I hadn¡¯t expected the new government to be that diligent on the matter,¡± Stokes senior said.


    ¡°We¡¯re doing our best,¡± Andrew replied.


    They didn¡¯t ask about her, Lane wondered. She wasn¡¯t sure what to make of that. Maybe they had heard of her? Or maybe they had already dismissed her mentally as either of the brothers¡¯ mistress ¨C the kind polite men didn¡¯t mention.


    Half an hour later, they already reached First Camp. And boy, had things changed here in just the past four months. The most obvious change was the camp itself: The walls had been extended and it was now easily going on twice the size it had been before. The clear-felled areas were even larger.


    ¡°Looks like they¡¯re marking fields already,¡± Nathan noted.


    Someone had certainly started getting rid of the stumps. Some areas were marked with twigs, too.


    ¡°A little small for fields, don¡¯t you think?¡± Andrew disagreed.


    ¡°May I ask when you¡¯ve been here last?¡± Jones inserted himself into the conversation as Lane, Andrew, and Nathan stood around the station to stare.


    ¡°A couple of weeks before the attack at Oldstone Castle,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Ah, so you probably haven¡¯t heard.¡± Stokes paused importantly.


    ¡°Heard what?¡±


    Stokes looked at his partner, who nodded.


    ¡°The camp is going to grow even further,¡± Stokes explained. ¡°Apparently, the soil around here is quite good. And with the werewolves protecting it, farmers won¡¯t have all the issues that they have with alchemical treated fields. There might be some fishing on the river as well. This is going to be a striving little town soon, with smaller villages around, and we¡¯ll be right there from the beginning. We didn¡¯t want to say anything, you know, in case you were competition, but we already have a running little stall, very profitable, and are in the process of building the first proper store.¡±


    ¡°So are those markings for farmland?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°Or for other properties?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have to see the latest plans to say for sure,¡± Jones said. ¡°But from the size, I am guessing they have staked out where they¡¯ll set up streets and houses once they do the next extension of the walls.¡±


    ¡°Who is claiming the land? I mean, who is selling it?¡± Andrew asked a question Lane had wondered about as well.


    ¡°Well, right now everything is handled by the Lackland Company. Rumour has it that the money is split between the dukes, but I cannot say how much truth there is to that. I¡¯ve also heard that it all goes to the war effort.¡±


    Lane turned around, away from the clearance, which frankly didn¡¯t look very inviting right now, and along the rails running towards the bridge. It looked finished, but she thought she could see movement over there.


    ¡°How about we start with a look at the bridge before we take the horses into camp?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± Nathan said.


    So they said goodbye to the three merchants for the moment ¨C they were sure to see them around the camp ¨C and got into the saddle.

 Chapter 96

    There were men working on the bridge, high up in the scaffolding. Lane didn¡¯t envy them, but Nathan apparently did.


    ¡°Just a few months ago, I climbed up there, too,¡± he noted.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you wanted to become a construction worker,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°Very funny. You get a great view from up there.¡±


    Someone else had apparently made use of that ¨C a single figure was walking their direction: Neville, one of the elders Greg had brought back. He stopped several yards away from where they halted their horses.


    ¡°Good to see you walking around,¡± the werewolf claimed when Nathan got out of the saddle. They left their crossbows with the horses when they walked up to greet him, but Nathan did bring his spear to lean on.


    ¡°Did the company send you after all?¡± Neville went on. ¡°Took them long enough!¡±


    ¡°No, David wanted us to make sure you guys are doing all right.¡±


    Neville seemed surprised by that.


    ¡°The Relentless sends his fianc¨¦e and half the family for just that? I didn¡¯t realize we were that important to the boss.¡±


    ¡°We would have been here two months ago if I hadn¡¯t gotten injured,¡± Nathan said. ¡°I hope you got settled in okay?¡±


    ¡°Me? Hell, I was having the time of my life. All I had to do is sit around camp, eat, drink, and watch other people work.¡±


    ¡°What changed?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°Since you¡¯re not sitting at the camp? Any trouble with the Rot?¡±


    ¡°No trouble with the Rot yet. Felt something move in the distance a week ago, though, so I figured I¡¯d better keep a closer eye on the men. Don¡¯t wanna hear anyone say I didn¡¯t take this seriously.¡±


    ¡°You felt something? Like another elder?¡±


    Neville shook his head. He actually looked uneasy, Lane thought.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t one of us,¡± he said, ¡°but that¡¯s the only thing I¡¯m sure of.¡±


    ¡°Well, what else could it be?¡±


    Neville bit his lips. ¡°I just don¡¯t know. All I know is I¡¯m really glad that it¡¯s still Ragna up at the other camp, not this Bernadette-woman. Between Ragna at the Savre and the Morgulon at Eoforwic, I think we¡¯ll be okay. I take it the company didn¡¯t pass on my message?¡±


    ¡°No. And we¡¯ve actually spent a lot of time at the office at Eoforwic.¡±


    Neville sighed. ¡°Yeah, the Captain already said that they weren¡¯t impressed. Damn.¡±


    He stared north-west. ¡°All I know is that something is moving out there. It doesn¡¯t feel anything like Pierre, so I¡¯m fairly sure it¡¯s not another werewolf. Is it the Rot? Can¡¯t say. If it is, it¡¯s got to be something huge ¨C and by huge I mean probably bigger than what you guys fought at Oldstone Castle. Any time I think the thing is gone, it kinda stirs again. Makes me real uneasy, to tell you the truth.¡±


    He shuddered and folded his arms across his chest. ¡°Mind you, might not be the Rot at all,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ve had other magical creatures show up around here, with the Rot in retreat.¡±


    Lane raised her eyebrows. ¡°What kind?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just small stuff. Right now, the only ones you¡¯re likely to see are some will-o¡¯-wisps. You know, moving white lights that are only visible at night, mostly down by the river and up around the bridge? The workers also called them giddy flames and the scientists something erudite, ignis something or other, I think.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we know about will-o¡¯-wisps,¡± Andrew said. ¡°They¡¯re rare in the heartlands, but there are still some safe groves left. They shouldn¡¯t be any trouble, though?¡±


    ¡°Some of the construction workers got real superstitious about them, but no, I have never seen the things do anything bad in the mountains. I mean, they don¡¯t really do anything at all, except for vanishing when you get too close? As long as people don¡¯t follow them it¡¯s not a problem and the workers all seem to know that. I only had to track down a couple of scientists who chased them way too deep into the forest the other night.¡±


    Andrew and Nathan both snorted in laughter.


    ¡°You¡¯d think a scientist would know better than to run after will-o¡¯-wisps,¡± Andrew said.


    Neville shrugged. ¡°There were some other critters,¡± he said. ¡°I think I spotted a kelpie, once, but there was a lot of fog that morning, so it might have been just a cow right down at the water¡¯s edge. The men are talking about brownies, and the farmer swears some of the butterflies we had in the fields back in autumn were something else. We haven¡¯t seen any of them around since we got the first frost, though.¡±


    He smiled a forced smile and went on: ¡°So, yes, if we¡¯re lucky it¡¯s not the Rot at all. Might be a dragon. Something big and powerful for sure.¡±


    ¡°Do you know if Ragna felt it too?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Yes, she did. She even went to investigate, but it evaded her. She said it felt as if it was trying to lure her away from the camp, so she went back in a hurry.¡±


    Lane shuddered. ¡°Did either of you ever encounter a Rot-queen?¡± she asked, wishing she had taken the time earlier to press Morgulon for more information.


    Neville turned away, to stare over his shoulder again.


    ¡°You just had to go there, didn¡¯t you?¡± he asked after a moment. ¡°No, I have never encountered a Rot-queen. Pierre said he only ever fought one once, back when he was almost twenty years younger.¡±


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    ¡°So ¨C Ragna would be able to handle one?¡± Lane asked.


    Neville spit onto the ground. ¡°No. Pierre says he and the rest of the pack only survived cause the Red was there to help them deal with it. He did wonder if maybe the queen might have attacked because the Red was there.¡±


    Andrew nodded. ¡°Okay. In that case, let¡¯s get back to camp right away and send a message straight home. Morgulon needs to be ready to move. You¡¯ll feel whatever it is before it comes closer, right?¡±


    Neville grimaced and half nodded, half shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna promise anything,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not ¨C actually an elder, you know? If it¡¯s powerful enough to require the Morgulon to deal with , it¡¯s powerful enough to slip past me.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Andrew said. ¡°But keep an eye out. We¡¯ll talk tonight, all right?¡±


    They got back into the saddle and rode towards the camp. They were silent for most of the way, until Nathan asked: ¡°Anyone who cares for a bet? Dragon or Rot-queen?¡±


    ¡°Rot-queen,¡± Andrew said promptly.


    ¡°Yeah? Why?¡±


    ¡°Because there¡¯s no gold around here, nothing for a dragon to steal. So it wouldn¡¯t have any reason to lure Ragna away to loot the camp in peace. Also, we¡¯re not that lucky.¡±


    ¡°How is a dragon ¡®lucky¡¯?¡± Lane asked.


    Both brothers turned in their saddles to stare at her.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Really? You wouldn¡¯t like to see a real dragon?¡± Nathan asked back.


    Lane stared at him. She was about to remind him how Mithras had slain the dragon that had threatened to swallow both the world and the sun, how all surviving dragons, though diminished, were creatures of unimaginable hunger, greed, and chaos, the sworn enemies of Mithras¡¯s champions. But then she just said: ¡°Not if it tries to roast me.¡±


    ¡°But then we could make David kill it and you could marry a dragon-slayer. Just think about the prestige!¡±


    ¡°I still agree with Andrew,¡± Lane said, smiling wryly. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a dragon.¡±


    ¡°Fine. You both owe me two silvers if it is.¡±


    ¡°Deal,¡± Andrew said.


    Lane opened her mouth to tell him that she didn¡¯t gamble, but she was interrupted.


    ¡°Milady, your lordships, if you would follow me?¡±


    They had reached the gates of the camp. A young soldier was already waiting for them, to lead them right to the barracks where the captain had his office. He promised to take care of their horses, too.


    Captain Reed was just like Lane remembered: Red-haired, freckled, only a few years older than her. He managed to both seem a little more comfortable in his own skin, a little less stiff when he bowed to greet her and then saluted the Feleke-brothers, and at the same time very nervous.


    ¡°I am very relieved to see you. I heard you already spoke to Mr. Ravier? Our elder werewolf?¡± he added, when they didn¡¯t recognize the name.


    ¡°Oh, Neville, yes. We did speak to him. He said you already know about what¡¯s going on? As much as Neville knows?¡±


    Now it was Reed who looked confused. ¡°Yes, I was the one who informed the company?¡±


    ¡°Right. We¡¯re not here on the company¡¯s request,¡± Andrew explained. ¡°They didn¡¯t pass on your report. We would like to send a telegram home straight away to inform the Morgulon.¡±


    Reed exhaled. ¡°Of course, of course.¡±


    He yelled for an adjutant, and five minutes later, a message had gone out to the house at Brines. Andrew gave the Captain permission for future emergencies to contact them directly, too. Eventually, they were all sitting back in the office and Reed wiped at his forehead before he said: ¡°With that out of the way: if you didn¡¯t come here about the werewolf¡¯s warning, what has brought you out here?¡±


    ¡°As you are probably aware, our brother David Feleke has officially taken over responsibility for all werewolves in the country,¡± Andrew explained. ¡°He simply asked us to check on the ones here.¡±


    ¡°I do hope there is no specific cause for concern?¡±


    ¡°No, David is quite happy with your reports. We are mostly passing through. We¡¯ll move on to the other camps tomorrow to try and find someone there who will also write reports.¡±


    ¡°Of course. If you do not find anyone, I can dispatch some of my men to take up that duty,¡± Reed offered promptly.


    ¡°Thank you, we¡¯ll keep it in mind.¡±


    They stayed only a little longer to exchange some pleasantries before leaving the captain to his duties.


    ¡°Want to check out the pub first?¡± Andrew asked when they were back outside the office.


    ¡°It¡¯s barely past noon,¡± Nathan pointed out.


    ¡°I know, but I think we should secure a couple of rooms before we look around, seeing how the camp is now allowing tourism.¡±


    Captain Reed had informed them that one could now rent rooms at the pub, which meant they wouldn¡¯t have to sleep in the barracks.


    ¡°Good point,¡± Lane said.


    So they made their way that direction first. Four months ago, there hadn¡¯t been anywhere to go beyond the pub, but now there were two additional ¡°districts¡± to First Camp. Behind the pub was the new housing area. Many lots were still empty here or had only started on construction. More to the side of the pub was the new business district. Lane smelled fresh bread from a new bakery, and they could all see the stall of Jones and Stokes, erected right in front of the building site for the shop proper.


    ¡°First Pub¡± had grown, too. They now had proper stables and a small new wing with rooms for rent. They paid for two of them and space for their horses before they walked over to Jones and Stokes.


    The merchants hadn¡¯t lied about the success of their enterprise: There was a group of off-duty soldiers looking at the wares. While the stall did sell sugar and some spices and tea, the wares weren¡¯t ¡°colonial¡±. The sugar was from beets, and the spices all varieties that could be grown in Loegrion, just like the tea. The rest of the selection were useful but ordinary goods as well: A variety of sturdy clothes and boots, deer tallow to care for leathers, miscellaneous small tools, haberdashery, paper and writing implements, soaps and other washing utensils, a few trinkets.


    ¡°No coffee left, damn,¡± one of the soldiers grumbled.


    ¡°Alas, no more,¡± the guy behind the counter confirmed. ¡°Jones and Stokes is doing all we can, but with the Valoisian barricade of Loegrian harbours, there is little hope of procuring coffee anytime soon.¡±


    ¡°At least he¡¯s not trying to sell us ground and roasted acorns as if we can¡¯t spot the difference,¡± another soldier muttered.


    The man behind the counter looked shocked. ¡°Why, I would never!¡±


    Lane and the Feleke-brothers turned their backs on the stall as the soldiers made their purchases, their curiosity satisfied.


    ¡°Countess deLande! Mylords!¡±


    Stokes senior had spotted them and was coming their direction in long strides. ¡°Pardon me, I should have made the connection earlier! Is there anything we can offer you?¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Stokes,¡± Andrew said. ¡°We¡¯re all set. We¡¯re just having a look around.¡±


    Of course, then the merchant wanted to show them the construction of the new shop. Since they really didn¡¯t have anything better to do until the construction workers called it a night and Neville returned to camp, they let the proud merchants show them around and join them for a late lunch, too. Nathan told the story of his and Greg¡¯s fight against the four mad werewolves here at First Camp last summer, and the three made all the appropriate impressed noises. Afterwards they wanted to know about the battle at Oldstone Castle as well.


    Lane thought Nathan would refuse. His expression grew stiff for a moment and he somewhat nervously ran a hand through the long locks of his black hair, that from a distance looked like braids but weren¡¯t really.


    ¡°You know, I think that story should be told by the lady,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°After all, it was her fianc¨¦ who saved the castle.¡±


    Lane raised her eyebrows at him. She wanted to point out that he and David were brothers ¨C and clearly that was more important? ¨C but Nathan had folded his arms across his chest defensively. So she instead turned to Andrew: ¡°I was inside for most of the fight. I¡¯m sure it would be more interesting to hear a fist-hand account from someone who was on the walls?¡±


    Andrew rolled his eyes at her, but turned to the three merchants and told them what had happened, leaving out a lot of details about Morgulon and the birth of the cubs. He didn¡¯t mention Nathan¡¯s injury either, and to everyone¡¯s relief, all three of them were tactful enough not to ask how Nathan had lost his leg.

 Chapter 97

    The merchants took the afternoon train back to Eoforwic, and just a little later, as dusk was falling, the workmen returned from the construction of the bridge. Lane, Andrew and Nathan talked to the other werewolves on guard, but most of them were too young to even have noticed what Neville had warned them about.


    Despite the looming danger, Lane and the two Felekes were soon surrounded by a merry group. The scientists who were here to study the werewolves wanted to pick Lane¡¯s brain about everything Morgulon¡¯s cubs had done, every little change. Mr. Smith in the meantime was asking Nathan about Greg and Thoko and their journey into the mountains. His colleagues sat around, drinking like sailors.


    When Lane mentioned it, Prof. Audenne shook his head. ¡°Scared half out of their minds ever since the elder warned us about that new presence.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t worried?¡±


    Audenne looked her straight in the eye. ¡°I¡¯m a scientist. I have waited my whole life for an opportunity like this, for the chance to learn, to study werewolves and all the other magical creatures of Loegrion. To be free of the Church and all their superstitions. I would have stood on the walls of Oldstone Castle with you if the dukes had allowed it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d have fought? Or just watched?¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯d have fought. This is my home, too. But apparently, I¡¯m too old to defend this country. I suppose that means the only way I can help is by gathering knowledge. If you don¡¯t mind, I would like to go with you to the Savre Camp. To tell you the truth, I would like to see a fight between werewolves and the Rot with my own two eyes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s dangerous,¡± Lane reminded him. ¡°We have no idea what¡¯s out there.¡±


    ¡°That just makes it all the more important, doesn¡¯t it? We might see something no human has seen in hundreds of years!¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Lane didn¡¯t point out that they might not survive to tell anyone about it. However, she couldn¡¯t stop herself from adding: ¡°Like a dragon?¡±


    Audenne sighed. ¡°That would be truly something,¡± he said wistfully. ¡°Unlikely, though. True dragons are most likely extinct.¡±


    ¡°What about the creature King Lackland killed?¡±


    ¡°The Knucker? A formidable foe, for sure. But taxonomically, it should probably be classified as a sea-serpent rather than a true dragon.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°A technicality, of course.


    If it should turn out to be a dragon, unlikely as that is, do you wager the werewolves could defeat it?¡±


    ¡°I suppose so,¡± Lane said slowly. ¡°I mean, I have no idea what an actual dragon would be like, but all the legends claim that knights could slay them. And if a human can, then I am very certain that Morgulon can, too. Unless its scales are made of actual silver, which seems even more unlikely.¡±


    Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw several of the engineers lean back in their chairs in obvious relief, so she didn¡¯t bring up the possibility that they might be facing a Rot-queen.


    Whatever that might be.


    Audenne was already up and dressed for travel when Lane, Andrew, and Nathan made their way into the taproom for breakfast the next morning.


    ¡°I had my horse prepared,¡± he informed them and an hour later, he climbed into the saddle of a sturdy pony. His assistant pointed out the danger again, but Audenne was unswayed.


    ¡°One of us should be there,¡± he pointed out. ¡°And it shouldn¡¯t be the man with three small children.¡±


    It was hard to argue with that, Lane had to admit.


    They took the new bridge across the Lour. It was nearly ready for trains, too. Another week, two at the most, Smith had said last night. ¡°If we don¡¯t all die before that,¡± one of his colleagues had added.


    ¡°Good hunting,¡± Smith yelled after them, while a lot of workers shook their heads or even made warding gestures against ill luck in the direction they were going.


    Andrew waved back at the engineer in passing.


    There was no sign of anything supernatural on the other side of the Lour, just a wide, almost straight trail of destroyed forest with the embankment for the future rails down the middle. It wasn¡¯t a pretty sight. If the Rot had been about, it would have found plenty of dead or dying plants to gobble up.


    But that was an unavoidable side effect of building the railway.


    The four riders hurried to get to the next fortified camp before the end of the short winter day. Calder was the elder there. He was somewhere right outside, the lieutenant in charge explained. There was an air of fear all around. Only three younger werewolves supported Calder, and the walls of this camp were weaker and lower than the ones of First Camp. The small stalls, where merchants had sold their wares before, had been deserted. The news that Morgulon had been informed only helped to alleviate the workers¡¯ and soldiers¡¯ fears a little.


    At least the exodus of the merchants meant that there were plenty of empty cots for them to sleep in.


    At dusk the next day they reached the Savre Camp, just as the navvies returned from the construction site at the river. The sun had already sunk almost entirely below the treetops and a whiff of putridity was blowing on the wind, coming from the marshes that hadn¡¯t retreated entirely. Yet the workers moved unhurriedly in an orderly fashion.


    ¡°If we didn¡¯t know already,¡± Nathan said as they entered the camp last, the gates closing behind them, ¡°one look around would tell us that this is the camp where the old hands are stationed.¡±


    ¡°What old hands?¡± Audenne asked.


    ¡°Greg¡¯s first crew,¡± Nathan explained. ¡°The first ones to go into the forest, before they had any idea how to defeat the Rot. These guys are either crazy brave or just crazy, I really don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Says the man who went to dance with the Rot!¡± a voice called back. ¡°What¡¯re ye doing here?¡±


    ¡°Came to see what in the five frozen hells you guys woke up here,¡± Nathan replied, jumping out of the saddle. Lane thought he nearly didn¡¯t stick the landing, but it was hard to tell since he was at once bear-hugged by a tall and very lanky young man in workman¡¯s clothes.


    Isaac, Lane remembered after a second.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t happen to bring the Morgulon along, did you?¡± another man asked. Mr. Eyal Levi, head of the butty gang Greg had originally signed up with. He was even taller than Isaac, and nearly twice as wide in the shoulders. There still was a certain similarity between the two in the shape of the eyes and the long, narrow nose.


    ¡°Unfortunately not,¡± Andrew said. ¡°We did send a telegram to Brines as soon as we heard, to make sure she¡¯s ready in case this goes to hell.¡±


    ¡°When this goes to hell, you should say,¡± Mr. Levi replied. ¡°How long will it take her to get here?¡±


    Andrew raised his empty hands. ¡°About an hour to Eoforwic, from there it shouldn¡¯t take her more than an hour to get to First Camp. Provided the company keeps their promise and have a train ready.¡±


    ¡°So unless we get an early warning, we¡¯ll have to hold out at least a day on our own.¡±


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    ¡°Pretty much, yes,¡± Andrew confirmed. ¡°How¡¯s Ragna?¡±


    ¡°Frustrated,¡± the elder werewolf replied. Lane jumped; she hadn¡¯t heard the woman walk up. ¡°A little worried, too, I¡¯m not going to lie.¡±


    ¡°Neville told us you tried to track down whatever is out there. Did you try again?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Ragna said. Lane thought she could maybe feel the echo of some of the elder¡¯s frustration as she shook her long blond hair. ¡°If Neville and Calder both could come with me, I might try again. But in all honesty, I no longer think I can survive what¡¯s out there on my own.¡±


    Only the soldiers guarding the gate they were still standing close to looked worried at those words, Lane noted. Andrew apparently noticed, too, because he said: ¡°You seem pretty unfazed by that, Eyal?¡±


    He shrugged: ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we have a plan. We learn from our mistakes and we still have some tricks up our sleeves.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t say anything more,¡± Ragna said when Andrew opened his mouth. ¡°Don¡¯t even bother.¡±


    Nathan and Andrew exchanged a glance at that, but Isaac already threw his arm around Andrew¡¯s shoulder. ¡°C¡¯mon guys, ye owe us a story! And where the hell are Greg and Thoko?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s take care of the horses first,¡± Andrew said. ¡°And we need to get rooms, too.¡±


    Once that was all done, Lane, Andrew, and Nathan met with Eyal and the rest of Greg¡¯s original crew in the largest of the camp¡¯s buildings. It was even bigger than the old coaching inn belonging to the footbridge, and had clearly been built to last. Or possibly to withstand a siege. While most of the sleeping barracks were little more than huts, this house even had glass-paned windows, high up above the ground.


    ¡°Nice,¡± Nathan noted.


    Lane nodded quietly. The ceiling of the main room was at least as high as the camp¡¯s outer walls, and the windows sat right underneath. A walkway made them easily accessible, and while she watched, workers were closing the massive shutters and lighting lamps.


    Lane guessed the space inside was big enough for all the workers and guards to gather in. It was a little hard to be sure, because the eastern part of the hall had been thoroughly closed-off with heavy drapes. Probably old tents. For some reason, Lane thought she could smell something like the wet scent of fresh clay.


    Just in front of the tarps, a single pedestal stood. The way the seating was arranged made Lane think of an altar, but it was too high, too narrow, for an animal sacrifice to be immolated there.


    It was also made of wood, so it couldn¡¯t easily hold the sacred flames of Mithras, either, except perhaps if they were lit by someone like Bishop Larsson.


    ¡°This is your keep?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°You can think of it like that,¡± Eyal said.


    ¡°It¡¯s also our meeting room, and the best place to sit down and eat,¡± Isaac added.


    They settled down around a table, Eyal, Isaac, and a few others. Digger, the camp¡¯s other leader, was the most noticeable of them, because he was the only one who groaned softly when he heard that Morgulon was still in Brines. The rest of the crew were suspiciously calm in the face of the danger. Lane wondered what they planned to do if a monster or the Rot showed up.


    A couple of them glanced over to the tarps, but more of them looked at the only man at the table who didn¡¯t look like a navvy. For one, he was about ten years older than the workers. He was also dressed entirely in black, but his loose garb didn¡¯t quite manage to hide a somewhat plump figure. He wore a small round hat and a long beard white with age. Lane could only guess that his hair had once been blond.


    When people turned to him, he gave a tiny wave with his hand, a gentle smile on his face. There was no sign that he was worried at all.


    He did not look anything like Lane imagined a sorcerer to look like, but clearly, Eyal¡¯s crew trusted him to deal with whatever was coming.


    ¡°Mr. Kohen,¡± Eyal introduced the man. ¡°A scholar.¡±


    Digger harrumphed at that. Andrew and Nathan both glanced at Mr. Kohen, and then at Lane, and it was only when she noticed their worried expressions that the penny dropped. Finally, she recognized Mr. Kohen¡¯s habit.


    Lane looked around the room again. This was, indeed, a church. Or a temple. Or whatever the moon-worshippers called their gathering places. And Mr. Kohen was a ¡°scholar,¡± good grief, they weren¡¯t even subtle about this, were they?


    But why would they be? Duke George Louis had declared several times since the battle at Oldstone Castle that he would allow freedom of religion to everybody. And if this rebellion failed, Eyal and his family were sure to bear the ire of the Empire anyway, as the first crew that had collaborated with werewolves.


    She opened her mouth, looked around again, and closed it. She couldn¡¯t even in her own mind quite sum up why she would have preferred another meeting place. It wasn¡¯t like she was being asked to attend one of their ceremonies.


    When she didn¡¯t say anything, Andrew and Nathan seemed to relax. They let Isaac and the rest of the navvies question them about Greg, the battle at Oldstone Castle, Thoko, and the werewolf cubs. Eventually, a horn outside began calling, interrupting the conversation.


    ¡°Dinner is ready,¡± Isaac explained.


    He led the short way to a field kitchen, not the inn, just a big cooking pot and an oven under a roof, where they each received a bowl full of food and freshly baked bread. They carried the food and, in case of the navvies, their daily ration of beer, back to the communal building, where Andrew and Nathan managed to get a word in edgewise to ask more about what was going on around the camp. As Ragna had already warned them, neither Eyal nor his crew wanted to talk about the preparations they had taken. Digger did tell them, at some length, about the varying Rot creatures they used to see walking around in broad daylight.


    He had left both before and after dinner to buy more beer, and was waving his empty tankard while he grumbled: ¡°It¡¯s been mad! Every day at this sun-cursed river is madness! We used to see them strut around bold as brass. And now they¡¯re gone, and I don¡¯t know what¡¯s worse: The thought that there¡¯s something out there that scared even the bloody Rot, or the thought that the creepers are getting organized for something.¡±


    He shook himself. ¡°We should¡¯ve called it quits once we reached Mannin! Shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve come back to work on this bloody bridge, no matter how good the money is.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be all right,¡± Eyal said calmly.


    ¡°Easy for you to say. Where¡¯d the Rot go, huh? Where¡¯d all the little creepers run off to, you can¡¯t tell me that¡¯s not weird!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s weird, all right,¡± Eyal admitted calmly.


    ¡°When did the Rot disappear?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°Same day as Ragna and Neville felt that strange presence out there,¡± Eyal said. ¡°It¡¯s been a week now, and we have only seen a couple of brutes.¡±


    ¡°Feels like they¡¯re spying on us,¡± Digger chimed in. ¡°Slinking round the worksite, watching us with their not-eyes...¡±


    The big man shuddered visibly. ¡°And that you won¡¯t say what it is you¡¯re basing your confidence in, is not helping, Eyal.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been over this. It might not help the men to know what we¡¯re planning.¡±


    ¡°It would help me,¡± Digger sighed. He stared into his empty tankard, but didn¡¯t get up to get a refill. ¡°Any movement?¡± he asked Ragna instead.


    The elder shook her head.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been a werewolf for more than twenty years, right?¡± Lane broke the silence that fell over the table. ¡°Neville said that Pierre and his pack fought against a Rot queen twenty years ago. Were you part of that fight?¡±


    ¡°Seventeen years ago,¡± Ragna said promptly. ¡°And yes. I was there. And also: yes, I think this might be one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll probably regret asking, but what in the five frozen hells is a Rot queen?¡± Digger asked. He looked at Lane, but she could only pull up her shoulders.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, either. Morgulon mentioned the word, once, and I could never get her to explain.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the Morgulon for you,¡± Ragna sighed. She drummed her fingers on the table. ¡°You know that the Rot was born of corrupted magic, right? But it¡¯s not actually alive, so all it has is, well, stolen magic.¡±


    ¡°I have a bad feeling about where this is going,¡± Digger muttered.


    Ragna smiled wryly. ¡°Yeah. A Rot queen is a corrupted but still sort of living source of magic. They can raise other Rot creatures right out of the dry ground, and strengthen creepers to the point where they turn into brutes. The worst thing is, they can corrupt other sources of magic, to create more Rot queens.¡±


    ¡°What do they look like?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°I think they vary, just like the Rot,¡± Ragna said. ¡°But I¡¯ve only ever seen one.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but what is a source of magic, exactly?¡± Digger asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m a source of magic,¡± Ragna answered. ¡°So is every other werewolf, though a younger werewolf would be far weaker. Pierre reckoned the one that attacked us in the mountains used to be a unicorn, but I¡¯ve never seen a normal unicorn, so I can¡¯t be sure.¡±


    ¡°A dragon,¡± Nathan said, the only one who seemed excited at the prospect.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope not,¡± Ragna said calmly. ¡°A corrupted dragon ¨C well, I don¡¯t know if even the Morgulon could handle one.¡±


    ¡°So a young werewolf would make a fairly weak Rot queen?¡± Digger asked.


    ¡°A somewhat weak one. It would still be incredibly dangerous,¡± Ragna warned. ¡°We werewolves call them queens because they seek to spread their corrupt magic. Like an ant queen laying eggs. We had to kill another werewolf of the pack because the queen got to him.¡± She drummed her fingers on the table again. ¡°If the thing out there had gotten around me when I first followed it... It would have gone straight for Oli.¡±


    ¡°Not for you?¡± Lane asked.


    Ragna grimaced. ¡°I mean, if it really is a dragon ¨C but I don¡¯t think it is. The queen we fought back then wasn¡¯t stupid. It didn¡¯t go for Pierre, and it only tried to kill the Red, not corrupt him. I expect this one¡¯ll try to get to one of the younger ones first, and then to me as a last resort. Or maybe it¡¯ll try to get to Calder.¡±


    ¡°The Red was born a werewolf, like the Morgulon, right?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°Any chance that this queen might not be able to corrupt her?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t like to bet my life on it. But sure. It¡¯s possible that she¡¯s protected.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s it waiting for?¡± Lane asked.


    Ragna shrugged. ¡°An opening, perhaps? A way to get around me? Or maybe, if Pierre was right and the queen only attacked us back then because the Red was around, it¡¯s waiting for Morgulon to move.¡± She paused. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s waiting for backup. Who knows.¡±


    ¡°Cheery thought,¡± Digger muttered. ¡°I¡¯ll get myself another beer. Anyone else want some?¡±


    ¡°No, but we¡¯ll walk with you, I think it¡¯s time we catch some rest,¡± Andrew said. Lane nodded. Nathan was clearly exhausted from the day in the saddle, enough so that he didn¡¯t even complain when Andrew hovered by his side as they made their way through the dark to the coaching inn and their rooms.

 Chapter 98

    Nothing at all happened the next day, aside from the fact that the weather took a turn for the worse: It started to snow in thick, wet flakes which melted within minutes, turning the ground into heavy mud. It couldn¡¯t make the work any easier at the huge bridge that was to span the mightiest of the Loegrian rivers.


    Lane stared up into the scaffolding and wondered who the architects responsible for the giant edifice were ¨C whoever they were, they had to be made of sterner stuff than the colleagues of Mr. Smith at the Loir-construction: Despite the weather and whatever was happening with the Rot, she spotted an engineering team brooding over blueprints.


    She wasn¡¯t surprised at all to learn at lunch that the team in charge was from Mannin. Northerners. You probably either had to be as mad as them to work out here, or have special reason to hate the Empire.


    Lane wasn¡¯t entirely sure which group she fell into herself.


    Like everyone else, she found herself periodically looking over to where Ragna had settled down in her wolf-shape. The huge, shaggy creature was dozing, but her ears still flicked with comforting regularity. Even now, she was on guard.


    Of course, no one knew if Ragna was even old enough, powerful enough, to sense the thing that was hiding in the distance should it decide it wanted to really hide.


    Especially if it really was a Rot queen.


    ¡°We should have told Morgulon to get moving straight away, when we sent the message from First Camp,¡± Andrew said at dusk, as they followed the workers back to the dubious safety of the walls.


    Lane agreed silently. It hadn¡¯t seemed as urgent, at First Camp, just one train stop from Eoforwic, a place Morgulon could easily reach within a couple of hours. Out here it was a different matter.


    But the night passed, and then another day, and somehow, the inaction made the waiting so much worse. Lane thought she could feel Ragna¡¯s mounting worry. Or maybe that was just her own fear.


    Or maybe not. Lane woke about a minute before the horn was blown, roused by her own racing heartbeat. She rolled out of bed and was just getting dressed when the alarm sounded outside. Somehow, she had known it would come.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she asked, as soon as she ran into the elder werewolf right outside of the communal hall. She was the first one, though she could hear soft curses in the dark.


    ¡°It¡¯s moving,¡± Ragna explained. She was naked except for a blanket she had wrapped herself in. ¡°But it¡¯s not coming for us. It¡¯s moving south. I thought it was trying to circle us, but it just kept going.¡± The elder took a deep breath. ¡°Calder has no hope in hell to fight this. I need to try and draw it back here. Will you let Eyal know? Tell him to get whatever spell he has ready.¡±


    Lane nodded quickly. She could see the other woman smile, just barely, and then the woman was gone, and a she-wolf was running towards the gate.


    ¡°Where¡¯s she going?¡± Eyal asked, while struggling to fasten his belt. The shirt which he hadn¡¯t properly tucked in had gotten caught in the buckle.


    ¡°It¡¯s going after Calder¡¯s camp,¡± Lane said. ¡°Ragna will try to distract it. You need to ready whatever defences we have. Right now,¡± she added, because the big man wasn¡¯t moving.


    ¡°What if it¡¯s a trap?¡± he asked. ¡°She shouldn¡¯t have gone out!¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter now,¡± Lane replied. She tried to remember how David had sounded when he had given his orders. ¡°Eyal, listen. It doesn¡¯t matter. You need to get that spell, or ¨C or other trick, anything you have, you need to get it ready right now. Ragna might not make it back here.¡±


    The large man stared at her. ¡°Of course,¡± he finally said. ¡°Of course.¡±


    And he went, calling for Mr. Kohen. Lane was left behind to explain to the worried men streaming out of their huts what was going on. Just a few minutes later, she found herself up on the parapet, much narrower and much lower than at Oldstone Castle. Made of wood, too. And they had no cannons either.


    And no elder werewolf.


    It was impossible to see anything out there, in the darkness, so Lane glanced behind herself instead. She could see nothing out of the ordinary down in the camp, either. She stood up on the narrow parapet for over an hour, but all that accomplished was that her feet started to ache and she shuddered with the cold. When her teeth started to chatter uncontrollably, she climbed down to the ground again. She swung by the pub to get something hot to drink to warm herself up, but every seat in there was packed with Digger¡¯s men, so she carried her mug over to see if there was any seating left in the new communal building.


    The place was almost filled up, too ¨C the tarps were still up, limiting the space. Some people just sat together, but others were quite clearly praying. Nobody stood behind the lectern, though. When she looked around, Lane noticed a flutter of the tarps, as if something moved behind them. She spotted Andrew and Nathan, who had sat down with two of the younger werewolves protecting the camp.


    ¡°Hey, Lane,¡± Andrew greeted and scuttled over, to make some room on the bench for her. ¡°This is Rhuad, and this is Anthony.¡±


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    Lane knew Rhuad, distantly. He had been a hunter, and they had gone after the same contract at least once, a few years ago. Anthony was barely more than a boy and tried without much success not to stare at Lane.


    ¡°Hello,¡± she said. She had to raise her voice a little over the murmur all around.


    ¡°Seen anything out there?¡± Nathan asked.


    Lane shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s way too dark. But no, I don¡¯t think anything is moving out there.¡±


    ¡°Oli should be out there,¡± Rhuad said softly.


    ¡°What?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°He just wanted to have a quick look around.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s been a werewolf for, what, six years now?¡± Andrew pointed out. ¡°I reckon he¡¯ll be all right. As long as he doesn¡¯t go too far. Ragna said that whatever is out there wasn¡¯t moving our direction, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°She also said that if it is a Rot queen, Oli would be its main target,¡± Lane reminded him. ¡°And she did say she¡¯d try to draw it here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I really wish she wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± Rhuad grumbled.


    ¡°Let¡¯s face it,¡± Andrew said, ¡°that thing is coming here sooner or later. If Ragna can save Calder and his crew by drawing it here right away, that is worth it.¡±


    ¡°The Morgulon is on her way, right?¡± Anthony asked.


    ¡°The officer on duty assured me that they sent for her as soon as they sounded the alarm,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Apparently, they got a reply, too, so that means the connection wasn¡¯t cut.¡±


    ¡°Great. But did the reply say that the Morgulon is on her way?¡± Rhuad persisted.


    Nathan paused. ¡°Dunno. The officer only said they got a reply.¡±


    Rhuad groaned and promptly stood up. When he started pushing through the crowd to the exit, Anthony seemed to realize that he would be alone with three werewolf-hunters and hurried to follow him.


    ¡°You¡¯d think a kid that young would be less scared of us,¡± Nathan noted.


    ¡°Nah, Nathan, it¡¯s just your face.¡±


    Isaac grinned when the three of them looked up, and took the seat Anthony had vacated. ¡°Don¡¯t take it personal,¡± he added, turning more serious. ¡°Anthony is just old enough to remember what life as a werewolf was like before the Lackland Rebellion.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Andrew said. ¡°We get it, really.¡±


    ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± Nathan gave back. ¡°I thought David is supposed to be the really scary one.¡±


    Lane wasn¡¯t sure if he was serious or not.


    ¡°What was the last hunt David went on without you?¡± Andrew asked back.


    ¡°Lee and Marian,¡± Nathan replied at once.


    ¡°Actually, he''s been hunting alone recently,¡± Lane pointed out. ¡°He took on a contract for the Railway Company for two mad ones that had attacked one of the crews, remember?¡±


    ¡°Right, he did say that.¡± Nathan shook his head. ¡°I hope the money was worth it. David absolutely hates going out alone.¡±


    ¡°I thought that¡¯s how he started?¡± Lane asked, a little surprised by this new information.


    Andrew gave her a strange look. ¡°Yes, that is how he started. When he was fourteen. You didn¡¯t think he did that because he had a better choice, did you?¡±


    Lane paused. She had just assumed that it had been an act of teen-age rebellion, or maybe a way to prove himself to his father. ¡°Why did he do it?¡± she asked after a moment.


    Andrew and Nathan exchanged a long look, but then, Andrew explained: ¡°You remember the Red Fever?¡±


    Lane shuddered. ¡°Sure,¡± she said. She¡¯d been just a child, back then, but the bodies piling up in the streets were hard to forget.


    ¡°Well, that was the first winter David went out. Because we all came down with it ¨C mother and Greg had it worst, but we all got sick. All except for David, who got away with just a rash.¡± Andrew shuddered. ¡°Medicine was ridiculous expensive that year, then food-prices climbed, too, and any healer not completely drained could charge pretty much whatever they wanted. And father had been hunting alone for a few years, since Uncle Gregory got killed by a werewolf... People hear the name Feleke and they think of money, but really, we weren¡¯t particularly well off back then. One hunter alone can¡¯t make all that much, unless they happen to be named deLande.¡±


    Lane smiled wryly. She didn¡¯t tell Andrew that more often than not, Wardshire¡¯s income had supported her hunts, rather than the other way around. She just said: ¡°You do have to be more careful when you go out alone.¡±


    There were a lot of large bounties she hadn¡¯t been able to go after.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Andrew went on, ¡°mother and Greg were dying, and we needed the money . So David stole father¡¯s crossbow, went to the magistrate, and picked the first bounty they offered. Had to compete for it, too, because so many people desperate to feed their families turned to hunting werewolves. It was a bad situation all around.¡±


    ¡°The really crazy thing it that he actually succeeded,¡± Nathan said. ¡°And then he went out again. And again. Every full moon, for I don¡¯t remember how long, he went out alone and killed werewolves. At fourteen years of age.¡±


    ¡°And you guys are surprised when werewolves are scared of you?¡± Isaac asked archly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Or rather, the surprise is that apparently, they are as scared of us as they are of David.¡±


    ¡°You guys aren¡¯t as deadly?¡± Isaac wanted to know.


    Nathan shrugged. ¡°Can I shoot a moving target? Yes. Will I follow them as long as necessary? Yes. Do I have David¡¯s tenacity and diligence? Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°What about you, Andrew?¡± Isaac asked.


    Andrew just shrugged.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Isaac complained when no answer was forthcoming.


    Andrew bit his lip, and finally said: ¡°If David is your standard, then I¡¯m pretty bad at hunting, Isaac. Mostly because I don¡¯t much care for it. Oh, I can shoot just fine, but I never had that drive to learn how to find my way in the forest, follow a trail, read the wind, build shelter, everything else you need to do. I liked working with the horses, training them, but I wasn¡¯t particularly fond of sitting in the saddle for days on end, and I absolutely hated sacrificing one of my animals to get away myself. It nearly cost me my life a few times.¡±


    He rubbed his neck. ¡°Both Nathan and I relied on David to keep us safe, especially when we started out. That is what did Greg in,¡± he added. ¡°We forgot how dangerous it is when you just start out and have no idea just how big and fast a werewolf can be. Because David was there to watch out for us. If he had been part of the group of beaters, Greg would have been fine and we¡¯d all be back at Courtenay now.¡±


    ¡°I kinda wish they were both here, actually,¡± Nathan muttered. ¡°On the one hand, I know that David couldn¡¯t fight whatever is coming any better than you or I, but it sure would make me feel better to have him here.¡±


    Lane thought she saw Andrew shudder, while Isaac said: ¡°Yeah, no offense, but I¡¯d prefer to have Greg here. Though that might just put him in danger, from what Ragna said.¡±


    ¡°Any chance you are going to tell us what you guys have planned?¡± Andrew asked.


    Isaac looked uncertainly over towards the tarps. ¡°I think you¡¯re going to see tonight anyway,¡± he said.


    ¡°But you¡¯re sure it¡¯ll be enough?¡± Nathan wanted to know.


    Isaac looked at them and then back at the wall of tent-linings. He bit his lips, but then nodded. ¡°Yeah. I mean, if the Morgulon is on the way. We can¡¯t hold out forever. No more than a few days, I reckon. But that should do, right?¡±


    They all looked over towards the door, which had opened, but it was just another of Isaac¡¯s relatives looking for shelter from the cold.

 Chapter 99

    A little while later, Eyal walked in, raising his hands to stall the onslaught of questions that came right away. ¡°Nothing is happening yet. Go back to sleep, guys.¡±


    He was mostly ignored, though some people did seem to have fallen asleep with their heads on the tables. Eyal looked around until he spotted the corner where Lane, Andrew and Nathan sat, and walked over. He sat down and leaned over the table.


    ¡°We might have a problem on our hands,¡± he said without preamble.


    ¡°No shit,¡± Nathan muttered.


    Eyal looked at him without even a hint of a smile. ¡°Oli is missing,¡± he explained. ¡°He left the camp right after Ragna did, before I could order the guards to not let anybody out. Rhuad and Anthony want to go after him. Considering what Ragna told us might be out there, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea for them to go.¡±


    He didn¡¯t have to say anything further.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Like hell you will,¡± Nathan sneered.


    Lane opened her mouth and closed it again. It had to be her; Andrew had already admitted that he wasn¡¯t a very good tracker, and Nathan ¨C well...


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m injured,¡± Nathan said calmly, but with a hint of steel to his voice. ¡°I¡¯m still a better tracker than Andrew, so it¡¯s gotta be either you or me. And let¡¯s be real here, losing you would hurt Loegrion much worse.¡±


    He glared at her and then his brother, challenging them to argue. Lane glanced over to Andrew, who had closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he nodded.


    ¡°Nathan is right, Lane,¡± he said softly.


    Lane wanted to protest, to ask him if he only said that because she was a woman, but then she settled back in her seat. It likely was part of the reason: even though the two Feleke-brothers probably didn¡¯t doubt her skills, other people would still fault them if they let a ¡°girl¡± go out in a situation like this and something happened to her.


    Nathan had already acknowledged that she was better than his brother, that was likely the best she could hope for in this situation.


    She still had to ask: ¡°You are certain you can do this, Nathan? What if the phantom pain comes back?¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t matter,¡± he said flatly. ¡°That won¡¯t be the issue, Lane. Dealing with the hallucinations will be the problem.¡±


    Lane had to admit that she didn¡¯t want to go and face that.


    ¡°We can help a little with that, too,¡± Eyal said.


    He waved to Mr. Digger, who was standing in the doorway, a bundle of cloth under his arm. The other navvy quickly came over.


    ¡°This is all we have,¡± he said, dropping and unwrapping what looked like another old tarp. Inside, there was a helmet, one of the completely silver-coated ones, and at least a dozen small protective amulets.


    ¡°Where did you get that?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s our collection,¡± Digger explained. ¡°We bought all the amulets at Mannin we could afford, and that we thought might have an effect on the Rot. Then our men wore them out at the bridge, to see which ones actually helped. Neither of these is particularly powerful, but together? They should get a rider through the breach and to First Camp, in case the telegraph line is disconnected.¡±


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    Lane shuddered. Nathan¡¯s mission was going to be a lot more dangerous than that. Still, the helmet alone raised his chances tremendously.


    Nathan had already reached for it, and carefully lowered it down over his black locks. It covered his forehead and both cheeks, leaving only a narrow opening over his eyes, nose and mouth.


    ¡°Quite heavy,¡± he noted. ¡°But yeah, this feels a lot better. Do I have to wear all the amulets around my neck?¡±


    ¡°In your pockets should be fine,¡± Digger said, the same moment that Eyal said: ¡°It¡¯s safer if they touch your skin.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha,¡± Nathan said. He flung a bunch of the amulets around his neck, and then wrapped some more around his wrists like bracelets. Lane bit her tongue on a comment on how the navvies were really trusting him with a lot of money ¨C it probably only sounded funny in her own head.


    A minute later, they were all moving: Nathan to get his crossbow and hunting gear, with Andrew at his side. Lane, Eyal and Digger went to inform the lieutenant nominally in charge of the camp of the new plan, and also to calm Rhuad and Anthony down.


    It only took Nathan a few minutes to meet up with them at the camp¡¯s gate, where Eyal had to order the guards to let him out. Andrew hugged his brother, and then Nathan threw his arms around Lane¡¯s shoulders too, whispering: ¡°Take care of David for me,¡± into her ear.


    ¡°Take care of yourself,¡± Lane muttered back.


    Nathan was nearly out of the gate when Eyal called: ¡°Nathan. You heard Ragna. There absolutely cannot be another one of these ¨C Rot-queens.¡±


    Nathan mock-saluted and took off into the night without another word.


    Andrew stared after him until the gate was closed. ¡°Do we know how big Oli¡¯s headstart is?¡±


    ¡°A couple of hours,¡± Eyal said. He rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Let¡¯s hope Nathan finds him before the Rot does. Maybe Ragna really will manage to draw it away...¡±


    He shook his head and went back inside. Lane and Andrew climbed the walls instead. Nathan was just reaching the edge of the clear-felled area surrounding the camp. He didn¡¯t look back though. Andrew stared after him long after he had vanished in the dark, not moving, barely even blinking. Lane wrapped her arms around herself and decided to keep him company, just in case.


    Lane and Andrew stayed up at the wall despite the cold until Nosson the cook called everybody over to the kitchen to get their breakfast an hour before sunrise. At the signal, Andrew finally stomped his feet. ¡°Let¡¯s get warmed up,¡± he muttered.


    He led the way over to the kitchen, picking up his bowl of fresh bread and what looked to Lane like last night¡¯s leftover potatoes.


    She shook her head when the cook looked at her questioningly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want anything?¡± Andrew asked as they sat down.


    ¡°It¡¯s Saint-Velija-Day,¡± Lane said. ¡°A fast-day,¡± she added, because that clearly didn¡¯t mean anything to him.


    ¡°Right. You don¡¯t think you should skip the fasting, considering that we¡¯ll probably have a battle on our hands soon?¡±


    ¡°I can hunt just fine on an empty stomach,¡± Lane pointed out. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll fight any worse. If we can fight at all against what¡¯s coming.¡±


    Andrew didn¡¯t argue with that. He didn¡¯t finish his own plate, either.


    Isaac joined them with food of his own. He told them that while Company headquarters in Eoforwic kept querying the camp¡¯s commanding officer for more information about what was going on and didn¡¯t seem to grasp the urgency of the threat, First Camp had messaged that they had passed on the call for aide to the Morgulon directly.


    ¡°Praise be to Mithras,¡± Andrew muttered. ¡°Looks like Reed learned something from his own screw-ups.¡±


    ¡°Any news from Calder¡¯s camp?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Only a ¡®message received¡¯ hours ago, right after the telegram that Ragna was trying to distract whatever is out there.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope they¡¯re still there,¡± Lane muttered.


    There were a couple of voices at the next table debating making a run for it while the daylight lasted, but the idea was shot down fast, to Lane¡¯s relief. Most people seemed to realize that their best hope lay in defending their current position.


    ¡°Is there any word if the werewolves know where Ragna is?¡± she asked. ¡°Or Oli?¡±


    Isaac shook his head. ¡°The only one of them who can reliably sense her is Oli, and, well.¡±


    Andrew left maybe an hour after breakfast, muttering: ¡°I¡¯ll go check on Dolly,¡± while Lane stayed with Isaac. The two of them just sat around their table in silence, waiting for news, any news. But the only thing that happened was that Eyal told them all to keep their weapons close by just in case. Lane already had her crossbow, so she didn¡¯t move, and Isaac had his axe, too.


    Andrew returned in time for lunch. Nathan didn¡¯t. Neither did Oli.


    That wasn¡¯t unexpected. But it still made Lane¡¯s stomach turn into knots, and not with hunger. Andrew only ate his ration of bread this meal and barely finished even that.

 Chapter 100

    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t it be a dragon,¡± Nathan muttered to himself, goring the creeper he had almost stumbled across with his spear. The thing shivered once and then stopped moving. A single one wasn¡¯t really dangerous right now, and wasn¡¯t that a weird thought?


    Nathan remembered all too well the night when he and David tried to follow the navvies¡¯ supply caravan into the forest, to find Greg, the thunderstorm that had surprised them, the way the Rot had invaded his mind and slowed his thoughts to a crawl. The terror he had felt then, right until the foul magic had overwhelmed him completely.


    Yet here he was, in the middle of the forest, only a few miles away from the Savre, and a single creeper didn¡¯t even slow him down.


    He didn¡¯t want to think about how much gold the navvies had spent just on the helmet he wore right now. He remembered how hard it had been to buy a simple, decorated cap at Eoforwic ¨C how much had it cost the navvies to bribe the smith into selling this one?


    At the same time, Nathan was fairly certain that the helmet alone wouldn¡¯t do him much good. Without the magical amulets, he would still get overwhelmed by the Rot. And magic of this kind was even harder to come by than silver, since it was rarer still.


    Yet the navvies had given their treasure to him. So he could find Oli, track down the kid before something else did.


    Nathan pushed onwards through the underbrush, trying to ignore the pain in his leg. He needed to be constantly on the look-out for more creepers or brutes: They were hard to spot between the dense trees in this part of the forest, and they could rise out of the muddy ground pretty much everywhere. As the navvies had said, Nathan hadn¡¯t seen much of the Rot all night. Only since about an hour after sunrise, the forest seemed to get crowded.


    All the Rot creatures were moving in the same direction: Towards the Savre Camp, if Nathan hadn¡¯t gotten turned around. He was sure he hadn¡¯t, though. This wasn¡¯t a city, he didn¡¯t get turned around out in the wild. This was what he was good at.


    Nathan scratched the spot where the silver of the helmet rubbed against his skin in annoyance. The navvies hadn¡¯t had the right kind of bonnet to wear underneath, so all he had was a normal woollen winter hat. At least it kept his ears warm.


    And he was free of the Rot¡¯s influence even with the creepers around; that was worth all the discomfort in the world.


    The only thing that slowed him down today was his bloody foot. Or the lack of it, rather.


    Oli had left a clear path in the little remaining snow. If Nathan still had had both his own feet, he could have followed at an easy jog. That had always been the one thing he was better at than even David: Running. He could do it faster than anyone he knew, and keep at it longer, too ¨C or he had been better at it.


    The Rot had taken that from him. Walking, or worse, running, on the wooden prosthesis felt like half of him was moving on wet sand or through deep mud, sapping his strength and taking the spring right out of his steps.


    Worse than that though was what the doctor had called phantom pain, the agony that still sometimes came out of nowhere, striking a limb that didn¡¯t even exist anymore.


    He had thought he was going mad at first. He hadn¡¯t even dared ask the doctor about it, not after Andrew had frowned at him full of doubt. There were no words for the relief he head felt when Lane had said she knew about the phenomenon.


    And it was getting better. Not as fast as Nathan would have liked it to, but instead of near-constant agony that even the opium barely alleviated, it now came and went. He prayed it wouldn¡¯t come today, not until he had caught up with Oli and dragged him back to the camp. The ache in the stump itself was bad enough.


    Nathan froze when a Rot-brute stepped out from between the trees. He barely breathed, his grip on the axe-handle shifting, as the brute took another step. The monster wasn¡¯t interested in him, though. It had a clear goal, and he wasn¡¯t it.


    Nathan waited for the brute to lumber on, in a straight line towards the camp. The Rot clearly knew where it needed to go, unlike Oli, whose trail wavered as if he had been chasing one of the will-o¡¯-wisps. Not that Nathan had seen any of them. No will-o¡¯-wisps, no birds, no living being. The only thing moving out here was him, the Rot, and the young werewolf.


    Nathan wished he knew what the kid was even doing out here.


    He wasn¡¯t trying to reach Ragna, was he?


    Nathan shook his head at himself. No, that couldn¡¯t be it. Oli could sense the elder werewolf. He¡¯d be moving in a mostly straight line if he was trying to get to her, not wave through the forest like a drunken fool.


    As much as he hated it, Nathan couldn¡¯t quite shake the nagging thought that the kid was moving like a mad werewolf. One of the seriously bad cases, where an experienced hunter could tell just by looking at the trail that the creature was off its rockers.


    Oli shouldn¡¯t be moving like this.


    Nathan¡¯s bad leg ached, yet he kept walking, following the tracks which took another sharp turn, almost backtracking. Nathan reckoned that if he turned around and walked in a straight line back towards the Savre Camp, it probably wouldn¡¯t take him much more than an hour to get there.


    He took a swig from his water bottle. He had had to refill it by cramming icicles inside ¨C he didn¡¯t trust the small creeks he came across every now and then. The last thing he needed was to drink from a Rot-infested well. He wouldn¡¯t do much good to Oli if he managed to poison himself.


    He¡¯d find the kid. He¡¯d find the kid before the Rot-queen did. He wouldn¡¯t fail like he had failed to protect Greg. He¡¯d do this right.


    He¡¯d never forgive himself if he was too late and had to kill the boy.


    He sometimes whished his family would blame him for what had happened to Greg ¨C especially David. But David seemed determined to shoulder the blame alone, even though there was plenty to go around.


    Nathan tugged at his helmet again. It should have been him.


    And yet ¨C he sometimes couldn¡¯t help but wonder: What if there was such a thing as fate after all? What if this had all been meant to happen?


    It just seemed unlikely that everything had been coincidence ¨C the way Greg had gotten bitten, probably the only way he could have gotten away despite all of deLande¡¯s scrutiny, joining the railway with the one crew who wouldn¡¯t kill him as soon as they found out...


    Or maybe that wasn¡¯t such a big coincidence after all. A crew willing to go into the forest without any sort of magical protection had to be made up of some pretty special people. It probably shouldn¡¯t surprise him that they had been brave enough to work alongside a werewolf.


    It was still an intriguing thought: That they had been meant to change Loegrion, drive out the Valoise, and bring about a brighter future for hopefully everybody.


    Nathan shook his head at himself. Wishful thinking, nothing else. He wanted it to be true, sure. Because if it was, then it wasn¡¯t his fault, was it? Nothing he could do to defy fate.


    It still should have been him.


    When he reached a small clearing, Nathan glanced up into the sky. It was nearly noon, so he dug some of his emergency hardtack out of his small pack and leaned against a tree to rest his bad leg for a few minutes. The stump was cold ¨C much colder than his good foot ¨C and it hurt. The wooden socket was chafing, despite the doctor¡¯s best effort to make it fit comfortably.


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    He wished he had some hot tea, but there was no time to light a fire. All he could do was soldier on and hope he¡¯d reach Oli in time.


    Would Lane have been faster? Would she have caught up with Oli already?


    But Nathan doubted that. This wasn¡¯t a hard track to follow and while he wasn¡¯t as fast as he used to and not half as quick as he would have liked to be, he hadn¡¯t wasted any time, either, conserving his strength and moving steadily onwards. If he could have brought his horse...


    But there had been no way to protect his stallion from the influence of the Rot, so that wouldn¡¯t have done him much good.


    He hadn¡¯t walked far after his short rest when he almost stepped into a pile of werewolf droppings. They were still steaming gently in the cold air. The sight made Nathan frown. Oli often behaved a little more wolf-like, but he normally didn¡¯t just take a dump where ever he happened to walk or stand. On full moon night, sure. But not in bright daylight.


    On the other hand, Nathan was certainly getting close.


    A couple of hundred yards later, Nathan realized something else: There were Rot creatures all around him, so many of them that despite of all the silver and amulets he wore he could feel the pressure on his skull mounting. They were still ignoring him, though there were enough of them to bury him in bodies, magic protections or not.


    Nathan only hesitated for a second. He was certainly getting close, so he swung the crossbow from his back. It was loaded with silver bolts, just in case. He really didn¡¯t want to shoot Oli with that, but he might not have the time to switch bolts and he couldn¡¯t take the risk.


    He didn¡¯t want to hurt the kid, but Eyal was right: they would be hard-pressed to deal with one Rot-queen. Two? He didn¡¯t even want to think about it.


    And there was another issue:


    Nathan didn¡¯t care much for politics. He didn¡¯t know half the names of the people David wrote to Lane about, and he didn¡¯t care, either. But he knew ¨C even understood ¨C the fear werewolves inspired in most folks. The Rot and werewolves both. And he was intimately familiar with the leaps of logic desperate people would make, to excuse even the most vile deeds. And this? This wouldn¡¯t even require leaps of logic.


    If word got around that werewolves could not only fight the Rot, but become Rot-queens? The most terrible kind of monster? That was exactly the kind of argument a man like George Louis needed to justify stabbing all the werewolves of Loegrion in the back once the land was cleansed.


    Nathan shuddered again. Wasn¡¯t his mission the worst proof for it how easy it was to turn on a friend, a child even, if the situation was dire enough?


    He needed to find Oli, find him alive, and bring him back. To prove that it was possible, that no more desperate measures were necessary.


    There was another small creek ahead, just a little runlet of molten snow. Two huge Rot creatures stood over it, fallen trees that had gotten up again. Nathan might have mistaken them for normal trees if it hadn¡¯t been for the way their branches were caging Oli in, holding him in place, front paws in the water. He didn¡¯t appear to struggle. In fact, he wasn¡¯t moving at all.


    Nathan took another step forward before he noted something else: There was a little girl standing in front of Oli, mostly hidden behind the large Rot tree. He knew her, too. The most beautiful girl in the world, her dark brown hair falling in two long braids over her light blue dress...


    He wanted to run towards her, but he stumbled. Something was wrong with his left leg ¨C a sharp pain, like from a burst blister, shot through his ¨C Nathan blinked. He wasn¡¯t actually eight years old anymore. And that wasn¡¯t Lucinda standing over there, with her hand on Oli¡¯s forehead.


    He couldn¡¯t tell what it was; every time he tried to look at it, he could feel his perception shift: to a slightly older girl whom he had had a crush on when he was twelve, back to Lucinda, then to a young lady whose dress he had admired the last time Imani had dragged him to court ¨C and each time, there was a siren call that told him that he needed to come closer, to take a look ¨C once it was Imani herself, calling out to him for help ¨C but every time he took a step, the pain in his leg brought some clarity. He still couldn¡¯t tell what the Rot creature looked like in truth.


    He tried to focus on Oli instead. The kid was in his wolf-shape and completely trapped. Each one of his legs was wrapped in dead vines, and the two trees formed a cage around him that would have stopped him had he been able to move. The Rot-queen had one hand ¨C limb ¨C resting on Oli¡¯s forehead.


    When the young werewolf gasped softly, Nathan finally realized that they were fighting after all: The Rot-queen was putting pressure on Oli¡¯s head, trying to push it down ¨C into the water?


    Where Oli¡¯s front paws were submerged in it, the dirty melt water of the little creek seemed to bubble and seethe ¨C if that wasn¡¯t an illusion, too. Was that how the Rot was going to corrupt the young werewolf? By making him drink that soup?


    Nathan made the mistake of looking at the queen again and took another lurching step closer against his will. It was the strangest sensation. He couldn¡¯t smell the Rot, and he had all but forgotten about the headache from the pressure on his skull. It wasn¡¯t gone, but it didn¡¯t matter now that he had laid eyes on the Rot-queen herself.


    But the pain in his leg was new, different, and as much as he hated the feeling, it brought reality back every step he took.


    Nathan stared at Oli again. He thought he could see the muscles in the werewolf¡¯s neck bulge, even underneath the thick fur. The kid wouldn¡¯t last much longer.


    And there was no way Nathan would be able to free him. Even if had a silver axe, he wouldn¡¯t have the time to bring down those rotten trees before they smashed him to pieces.


    Nathan felt his heart sink. There was probably no point in shooting the Rot-queen, was there? And if he couldn¡¯t save the kid, he¡¯d have to shoot him.


    He shifted his grip on his crossbow, raising it, but then lowered it again.


    He couldn¡¯t do it. Had it been a stranger ¨C or at least an adult werewolf... But Oli was just a cub, whining softly, clearly fighting with all his might.


    David would say: ¡°someone has to do what¡¯s necessary.¡± If David were here, Oli would already be dead. David would just murder the kid and live with the regret.


    Or would he? He hadn¡¯t checked Greg over for werewolf bites, back after the big hunt. Hadn¡¯t wanted to look. Hadn¡¯t wanted Lane to look, either. Hadn¡¯t wanted to know.


    Nathan stared at the silent struggle again. Oli¡¯s head had dipped a little further towards the creek.


    Nathan¡¯s eyes wandered over to the queen on their own accord. This time, he managed to bite his tongue before the Rot-queen could call him forward again ¨C she had looked like Lucinda again. Trying to fool him into coming closer.


    ¡°Fool me once,¡± Nathan whispered to himself and then blinked.


    He stared down at the silver bolt. Could he fool the Rot-queen likewise? It wanted him to believe that there was no danger here. Could he make it believe that there was nothing to gain here?


    David would probably say it was too risky. The queen would know he was dangerous as soon as he fired his first shot.


    But he couldn¡¯t just murder the kid without even trying. And if it didn¡¯t work, he still had his second bolt, right?


    He raised the crossbow and aimed carefully, though it was probably the easiest shot he had ever fired at a werewolf. It wasn¡¯t like Oli could move.


    But he didn¡¯t want to accidentally kill the boy.


    He exhaled, held his breath, pulled the trigger. The silver bolt hit Oli¡¯s shoulder with a dull thud. The cub screamed in an almost human voice and twisted with enough force that the Rot-queen¡¯s hand slipped from his head. Its neck lengthened like a snail extending its antennae to see, while its face still appeared as little Lucinda¡¯s. The sight was so bizarre that Nathan didn¡¯t even feel the need to step closer. One of the queen¡¯s spindly arms reached out to touch the bolt that had buried deep into Oli¡¯s shoulder. Nathan watched with bated breath as the creature gingerly poked the metal while Oli still fought against his bindings, keening.


    The Rot-queen howled when it touched the silver and Nathan couldn¡¯t help but smile grimly. Oli stumbled and fell when the vines that had held him in place suddenly let go. The smile was wiped off Nathan¡¯s face when the Rot-queen looked around wildly, sweet Lucinda¡¯s face framed by the braids swinging around on the way too long neck.


    Suddenly, Nathan found himself face to face with the creature, and this time he was certain he hadn¡¯t moved his feet. Bloodshot eyes ¨C a corpse¡¯s eyes ¨C stared into his. Unbidden, memories welled up inside his mind: Finding Oli, trapped by the vines and threatened by the Rot-queen, raising his crossbow, shooting. Oli¡¯s scream, then the same motion ¨C raising his crossbow, aiming, shooting, only much faster and at a different werewolf, the same sequence of moves repeated over and over and over.


    Every single werewolf he had ever killed seemed to pass in front of his eyes.


    And the worst part was: the Rot-queen was pleased with the slaughter. He could sense ¨C a sort of glee coming from it, even encouragement anytime his shot went wide, and a terrible, terrible approval when it got to the point when he had been just a child, learning to shoot.


    The Rot-queen would have corrupted Oli, yes, but it feared the werewolves, too. It considered them enemies; it was glad about every single one that lay dead. A picture of Ragna appeared before his inner eye and for a brief second, he knew just where she was, which direction he needed to go to find her ¨C following a second Rot-queen.


    A heartbeat later, he fell to his knees, the Rot-queen that had tormented Oli gone. It just sort of vanished between one blink of the eye and the next; Nathan couldn¡¯t see where to. The two Rot trees lumbered away as well, leaving Oli there in the mud. His blood had mixed with the mud; the weirdly bubbling water on the other hand had already drained away. If it had ever really been there.


    ¡°Five frozen hells,¡± Nathan muttered. ¡°That wasn¡¯t weird or anything.¡±


    He waited maybe a minute, to be as sure as he could be, before he hurried to Oli¡¯s side.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Nathan whispered as he kneeled down. He didn¡¯t dare take off the helmet, even though it probably made the kid even more uncomfortable. ¡°Couldn¡¯t think of anything else to make that thing let you go,¡± he added.


    Oli struggled to get away when Nathan reached out, but didn¡¯t manage to find his feet.


    ¡°Hush, kiddo... I¡¯m really sorry, Oli,¡± he repeated. ¡°Let me see the wound. Think you can walk? We need to get out of here.¡±

 Chapter 101

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to jump,¡± Andrew said, unprompted, when Lane leaned against the parapet¡¯s railing next to him. ¡°Or follow them. There¡¯s no point. Nathan got nearly a day of a head-start, and he¡¯s better at tracking than I am. Even with his bad leg, he¡¯s probably better at not getting noticed, too. I¡¯d just put him in more danger, even if I caught up with him.¡±


    Lane nodded, keeping her mouth shut. The sun was hanging low over the treetops, and she was worried about Nathan, but admittedly, Andrew, too.


    His voice and face were curiously calm as he summed up the facts of the situation, until, all of a sudden, he smashed his fist into the wood.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± whispered. ¡°Fuck, fuck, fuck,¡± each curse punctuated by another blow. ¡°David is gonna kill me.¡±


    ¡°No, he won¡¯t,¡± Lane said. Of that, at least, she was certain. ¡°He won¡¯t even blame you.¡±


    ¡°I should have gone with him,¡± Andrew disagreed. ¡°What if his leg gets bad again? We don¡¯t even know whether or not he found Oli!¡±


    He hit the wood again, swearing. Blood ran down his knuckles already. The wood, too.


    Lane stared at the place where Andrew¡¯s fist had scraped against the palisades. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him take another swing and threw herself at him. ¡°Stop!¡± she yelled. ¡°Andrew, stop! Look!¡±


    She had to hang on with both arms but managed to prevent him from hitting the wood again. ¡°Look at the blood!¡± she hissed into his ear.


    Andrew finally stopped struggling and they both stared. Where his blood had touched the palisades, the wood was changing, warping. A new twig was sprouting from a knothole.


    ¡°That was treated with alchemy, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Lane asked, struggling to keep the fear out of her voice.


    Andrew didn¡¯t waste breath on an answer. He yanked one of the torches that even in daylight lined the fortifications out of its stub, and brought the flame down on the growth.


    A couple of guards noticed and came running. One of them reached for his horn, but hesitated, staring at the site of the growth.


    Lane grabbed the other one by the arm.


    ¡°Did these walls get treated in alchemy?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Rubbed in salt,¡± the man said. ¡°This shouldn¡¯t happen.¡±


    Lane nodded. ¡°Sound the alarm,¡± she said louder. ¡°It¡¯s starting!¡± she added, because the man with the horn just blinked at her. ¡°There¡¯s enough magic in the air that a few drops of blood are enough for salted wood to grow! Sound the alarm and be ready for anything.¡±


    When the alarm rang out, she turned towards the forest, to see if she could see anything moving out there.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    All she could see were the trees surrounding the camp, though, standing still and silent.


    It wasn¡¯t until one of the guards asked: ¡°Where did the forest come from?¡± that she realized something was strange with that picture.


    ¡°Jimmy, ye daft idiot,¡± another soldier grunted. ¡°It¡¯s always been full of trees out there.¡±


    Jimmy¡¯s face scrunched up in concentration. ¡°I thought the navvies had clear-felled all the way to the river.¡±


    ¡°So? The river is the other way! Can¡¯t see it from here!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Lane whispered quietly. No, that wasn¡¯t right. They should be able to see the water. Shouldn¡¯t they?


    She reached into the quiver at her hips, closing her fingers tightly around a silver bolt, and stared at the torch Andrew was still holding. If she focused on the flame, she could see the forest vanish in the periphery of her vision.


    ¡°Five frozen hells,¡± Andrew swore.


    Again, a horn sounded the alarm, a wild, far shriller note.


    ¡°Get off the walls,¡± Lane said. She wanted to yell it, but her throat was suddenly so tight, it was more of a gasp. ¡°Get off the walls,¡± she repeated, her voice still strangled.


    ¡°Can¡¯t leave our posts,¡± a soldier gave back. It sounded so calm. So reasonable. Lane swallowed hard and pressed her thumb down on the tip of the dowel she was still gripping. It didn¡¯t hurt until the skin broke, and then she hissed in pain, but at least she could think a little clearer.


    ¡°Get off this damn wall!¡± she yelled. ¡°You can¡¯t fight what¡¯s out there! You can¡¯t even see it! There¡¯s no forest out there, it was all cut down months ago! It¡¯s an illusion! The Rot is here, so run!¡±


    She didn¡¯t know if people followed, but she grabbed Andrew with her free hand. The ache in her thumb was the only thing that was real, but as long as she had that to focus on, she could fight the lull of the Rot¡¯s illusion, the strange feeling of tranquillity. This was nothing like the terror that had paralyzed her when the Rot had first grabbed her a year ago and dug up her worst memories, back in the mountains. This was even more insidious.


    The alarm had stilled again, and people just milled about down in the camp. Andrew couldn¡¯t be rushed down the ladder, either, and Lane had no other idea but to jab him with the silver dowel, hard enough to pierce his clothes and skin. He almost took a swing at her but then blinked and cursed. Lane pressed the silver into his hands and hurried to grab another bolt from her quiver.


    ¡°Find Eyal or Mr. Kohen,¡± Andrew said. He was struggling to open his purse with one hand. Lane watched until she saw him fish out a silver coin and place it in his mouth, biting down on it hard. She hoped it would do the trick as he hurried away to use the bolt to jab the closest navvy. Lane headed straight towards the communal building.


    Before she even made it there, she heard the crack of wood coming from the large building and a huge door, one she hadn¡¯t even realized was there, opened at the back end. Lane froze at the sight of what came walking out, a giant figure, vaguely shaped like a man, but nearly as tall as the walls were high. For a second, Lane thought the Rot had already invaded the camp, because the figure clearly wasn¡¯t alive ¨C it looked like it might have been made of mud or clay ¨C but then she noticed the face. It had been sculpted by rough hands to look human. Not very elegant, but instantly recognizable, nothing like what passed for a face in a Rot creature. And there was something on its forehead, a glowing sign, possibly some kind of rune.


    People screamed when it emerged, and Lane couldn¡¯t imagine a more beautiful sound. The giant had to have a similar aura to the werewolves, something that countered the effects of the Rot in the area.


    A second, equally tall figure followed the first one, and after that came Mr. Kohen, looking even more tiny in comparison. Two more giants followed him out. ¡°Guard this house from everything that tries to come in through, across, or underneath the outer walls,¡± the small man ordered the hulking clay-men calmly.


    ¡°What are those things?¡± Andrew asked, standing right next to Lane and staring.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Lane admitted. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can find Eyal and ask.¡±

 Chapter 102

    Inside the communal building, half the tarps were down, and Isaac and a couple of other guys were busy pulling down the rest of them to make the space available. Lane could tell from faint outlines on the ground where the four giants had lain hidden.


    Andrew walked straight over towards Isaac, who grinned at them. ¡°Well, what do ye think of our golems?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a golem?¡± Andrew asked back.


    Isaac paused. ¡°Uh, clay-men? Really tall? Four just walked out of here?¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± Andrew said. ¡°I did see them. I¡¯d like to know how they¡¯re made. And what are they made of?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re made of clay,¡± Isaac repeated. He scratched his head. ¡°Can¡¯t tell you much beyond that,¡± he said. ¡°I just helped dig up the loam.¡± He stamped his foot onto the wooden flooring, which had a decidedly hollow ring here. ¡°We found the clay right underneath,¡± Isaac went on, ¡°dug it up and made the figures. Took ages, I can tell ye.¡±


    ¡°And then Mr. Kohen enchanted them?¡± Lane asked.


    Isaac looked at her uneasily. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°They aren¡¯t enchanted.¡±


    ¡°Then how do they move?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I¡¯m serious. Ye¡¯re talking to the one guy in this whole crew who can¡¯t even read. Ye gonna have to ask Eyal or Mr. Kohen about the tricky bits.¡±


    He paused and added: ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any magic to it, though. That would be daft, wouldn¡¯t it? To feed the Rot more magic?¡±


    ¡°Suitable strong magic can keep the Rot away,¡± Lane replied. ¡°Or a younger werewolf, for that matter.¡±


    ¡°See, I didn¡¯t know that,¡± Isaac said. Someone called his name. ¡°Look, I gotta get back to work.¡±


    The other men had finished taking down the tarps without him, but now it looked like they were trying to close and secure the huge doors that had allowed the golems to leave.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing it was a ritual,¡± Andrew said when Isaac was out of earshot. ¡°A religious ritual. And they don¡¯t want to talk about it because you¡¯re Valoisian.¡±


    Lane crossed her arms in front of her chest but nodded. She had never heard of a ritual as powerful as this. There was a reason why so many priests of Mithras were mage-priests. If you wanted fast, flashy results, you used magic. If you wanted to save a soul, you used a ritual.


    Except. Bishop Larsson had walked through flame, protected by his faith alone, hadn¡¯t he?


    ¡°Come on,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Let¡¯s get up to a window.¡±


    Lane had spotted the movement outside as well, right before Isaac and the other men managed to pull the large door closed: Something had scaled the camp¡¯s walls.


    By the time they had secured a spot in front of one of the windows, a whole host of creepers had climbed the walls and chased after the last of the guards. Even in their hurry, the soldiers still gave the golems a wide berth.


    The four giants swatted at the Rot-creatures that followed the men with their huge hands, or simply stepped on them. They were deceptively quick, despite their size, and few creepers managed to get out of the way in time.


    But there were only four of them and an army of the Rot.


    The first Rot-brute just forced its way through the main gate of the camp. It ignored the last of the running men, and charged straight at the golem closest to it.


    Lane raised her eyebrows when the golem met the attack head-on, ripping the monster apart without apparent effort. The onlookers at the windows cheered.


    ¡°Makes you wonder why we even bother with the werewolves,¡± someone muttered not far away. Lane had just thought the same thing: This might be trouble later on.


    ¡°Werewolves don¡¯t take months to build,¡± another worker answered.


    ¡°Sure they do. It takes four months to find out if they¡¯re gonna be safe.¡±


    ¡°A werewolf still can protect people in a pinch earlier, like some did at Oldstone Castle. And the golems don¡¯t heal. A werewolf gets stronger with every fight they survive. The golems just get damaged.¡±


    ¡°Guess that is a drawback.¡±


    ¡°Gavrel, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Andrew inserted himself into their conversation. ¡°Do you know how those were woken?¡±


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    The worker who had defended the werewolves shrugged. ¡°Mr. Kohen has been working on them ever since Ragna left. That¡¯s all I can tell you.¡±


    All he could tell them, or all he would tell them? Lane wondered. But she didn¡¯t follow Andrew as he walked over to look out of the same window as Gavrel. Lane only listened with half an ear as the two talked, turning back to her own window. She couldn¡¯t see any more humans out there ¨C or rather, no more living humans. A few people lay up on the parapet or the ground, already perfectly still, Rot-creatures perched around them. Lane felt a sudden cold at the sight.


    More and more creepers and brutes flooded the camp proper. Would the people who had fled to the pub be safe? It had its own silver protections, but the Rot-creatures just kept coming. The golems were forced to draw their circle closer around the building where they had been created, to stop the creepers from getting to it. The brutes were still throwing themselves fruitlessly against the hulking giants. Lane couldn¡¯t see any damage to them yet.


    ¡°Strange, that we can¡¯t feel anything, don¡¯t you think?¡± Andrew noted. ¡°Not even a whiff of the usual stink.¡±


    ¡°No Rot has reached this house yet,¡± Lane pointed out. ¡°If these windows crack, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll all feel it right away.¡±


    ¡°Any sign of what¡¯s driven all these creepers to attack in broad daylight?¡± Gavrel asked.


    ¡°No, but I¡¯m sure that Nathan is going to owe me some silver,¡± Andrew said. ¡°He better get his arse back here and pay up.¡±


    Lane managed to force a smile, while Andrew had to explain how Nathan had bet on a dragon. It seemed like ages ago.


    Watching the nearest golem swat the creepers like flies was hypnotic itself. It moved so fast, Lane sometimes barely saw it as it chased up and down her side of the building. The other three were probably doing the same on the other sides.


    A commotion inside the building made Lane turn her back on the window. Rhuad and Anthony were struggling against a group of navvies that were blocking them from opening the door.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± Lane muttered.


    Andrew was already hurrying over towards and down the ladder. Lane followed a little slower ¨C she wasn¡¯t sure what was going on, and she didn¡¯t know how to help, either. She could hardly shoot the two werewolves, could she?


    But why were they trying to leave, now of all times?


    Andrew got there just in time to lock both arms around Rhuad¡¯s upper body, restraining the werewolf just as he reached the door. Navvies had grabbed Anthony, but Rhuad¡¯s hands looked more like claws and there was fur sprouting on his face, too, enough to make most people back up. Lane hesitated, too.


    ¡°What is wrong with you!¡± Andrew demanded, but Rhuad just growled something unintelligible at him.


    ¡°Right. Fine. Be that way!¡±


    Lane saw Andrew actually lift the werewolf off his feet and then smash him, face first, into the doorframe. Lane was fairly sure that she could hear the werewolf¡¯s nose break. Andrew jerked him upright again when he staggered.


    ¡°Are you going to be reasonable now?¡±


    Rhuad¡¯s head bobbed somewhat limply, but his claws turned back to fingers and the fur vanished from his face, too. He moaned softly.


    ¡°Hey, Rhuad!¡± Andrew yelled into his ear. ¡°Talk to me!¡±


    Rhuad blinked, still looking dazed. ¡°Ouch,¡± was all he said, but it was a word, not a mindless growl.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you go now, all right?¡±


    ¡°Quit yelling in my ear,¡± Rhuad complained and then almost fell down when Andrew let go abruptly.


    ¡°You tried to open the door,¡± Andrew pointed out, pulling him up by one arm. Blood was running down Rhuad¡¯s face.


    ¡°Bullshit. The Rot¡¯s out there.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s why I¡¯m yelling at you,¡± Andrew said calmly.


    Rhuad felt at his nose. ¡°Did you punch me, too?¡±


    ¡°Smashed you into the wall,¡± a navvy explained helpfully.


    ¡°It was that or poke you with my silver knife,¡± Andrew said.


    Rhuad stared at him. ¡°Yeah. Thanks for using the wall first, I guess. I really tried to open the door?¡±


    ¡°You and Anthony both. And you nearly turned on us, too.¡±


    ¡°Guess we know what happened to Oli,¡± Rhuad muttered, probing his nose again. ¡°Do we have any ropes? I¡¯d rather not get my face smashed in a second time.¡±


    Lane needed a second to catch his meaning. Andrew was a little quicker. ¡°You want us to tie you up?¡±


    ¡°Better than having my face carved in, isn¡¯t it? Just let me ¨C¡±


    The werewolf started taking off his clothes, which made some workers turn away while others cat-called ironically. Lane turned her back on the naked man. A moment later she heard him stagger around while he transformed and then turned human again.


    A navvy was already bringing ropes.


    ¡°Is anyone still watching the windows?¡± Andrew asked while he tied Rhuad to one of the support beams holding up the ceiling. Even though this had been his idea, the werewolf was struggling against him again, and the navvies standing around were clearly wary to help.


    Lane looked up to check if anyone was still keeping an eye on what was going on outside, and spotted Audenne. She had almost forgotten about the professor. He had pulled his sketch-pad out and was scribbling like mad. The only interesting things out there were the Rot creatures or the golems, so Lane could only assume he was drawing those.


    Lane heard a sound that made her think of teeth snapping shut behind herself, and as she turned around, Andrew cursed. Rhuad¡¯s whole face was shifting and he was trying to bite Andrew.


    ¡°Your necklace, Lane,¡± Andrew said, fighting to hold onto Rhuad without getting bitten. ¡°Put your damn necklace around his neck. Quick!¡±


    Lane fumbled for the clasp, nearly ripping the thin, silver band that held the sign of Mithras.


    ¡°You know that the Sign of the Sun doesn¡¯t actually repel werewolves, right?¡± she asked nervously as she tried to get the flimsy chain around Rhuad¡¯s neck.


    The werewolf stopped fighting before she even managed to close the clasp. Instead, Rhuad made a high, keening sound, no more human than his growling before.


    ¡°Take it off,¡± Anthony whispered next to them. ¡°Take it off!¡± he repeated louder. ¡°You have to take it off!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t do that,¡± Andrew replied calmly. ¡°If we had a cage, we could put him in there, but we don¡¯t. And if he bites someone, or worse, kills someone in here, it might be his death, too. I won¡¯t put silver on you unless you start attacking us as well. That¡¯s the best I can offer you.¡±


    Anthony opened his mouth as if to argue, but then his eyes found Lane and he ducked his head instead. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered. He let Andrew tie him to the next support beam without resistance.


    Andrew still turned to one of the navvies watching on. ¡°Tell Eyal or Digger that we need another silver chain or necklace if they have. Just in case.¡±


    He very carefully put a hand to Rhuad¡¯s neck as if he was feeling for a pulse, despite the fact that the werewolf was still whimpering softly. The skin was already red and blistering where the metal touched it.


    ¡°Does anyone have a scarf?¡± Andrew asked loudly into the room.

 Chapter 103

    Before Andrew had even finished speaking, there was another commotion. A man tried to open the other door, the huge one through which the golems had left the building. Luckily, there was no way one man alone could lift the bar that locked it.


    Lane didn¡¯t hang around to watch Andrew pad out the silver chain around Rhuad¡¯s neck so it wouldn¡¯t burn his skin. Instead, she climbed back up to the balcony with the windows, to see what was going on. She stepped next to Prof. Audenne, who was still sketching like his life depended on it. He had produced some very good likenesses of different creepers and a couple of brutes. Of the closest golem, too. In the margins, he had taken down quick notes on what had happened to Rhuad.


    ¡°Now all we need are the Rot-queens,¡± the professor commented.


    ¡°I won¡¯t mind if they take their time,¡± Lane said.


    Before she had finished speaking, the ground underneath their feet shook as something crashed into the wall like a runaway train engine. People screamed. Lane and Audenne nearly smashed their heads together as they both leaned forwards in the same moment to see what had happened, but it was someone a few windows over, who managed to yell over the ruckus: ¡°Rot-brute charged at the wall! It¡¯s dead though! Golem killed it!¡±


    Lane¡¯s heartbeat had barely slowed down to something approaching normal when the next tremor shook the walls.


    Lane glanced at the workers down below, then out of the window again. It would probably be smarter to get down to where at least she wouldn¡¯t fall if the walls collapsed, but she couldn¡¯t make herself move away from the small window. She¡¯d be blind down there. The walls below the balcony were solid. Reinforced, without any gaps besides the doors. Clearly built for an occasion such as this.


    ¡°I¡¯ll wait a little longer,¡± she whispered to herself. Audenne didn¡¯t seem to pay her any attention anyway. His gaze was jumping back and forth between his sketchbook and the Rot outside. His hands were blackened with graphite dust and he didn¡¯t seem to be affected by the Rot¡¯s influence at all.


    ¡°If I don¡¯t make it,¡± he said suddenly, ¡±will you look for this notebook when the fight is over? With any luck, the Rot will not be interested in books. Lord Feleke might find the notes useful.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C of course,¡± Lane replied.


    ¡°Good,¡± Audenne said, and started the next sketch.


    She watched him for what felt like a long time. Downstairs, the navvies pushed tables and benches towards the walls, to form additional barriers. They had their tools ready, axes, shovels, hammers, and the likes. Good weapons against the Rot as Oldstone Castle had proven. If they could fight at all. Without an elder werewolf to counter the Rot¡¯s paralyzing magic...


    Lane shook her head. The walls might save them. The walls and the golems. They had a chance. Maybe.


    ¡°Ah, there it is,¡± Audenne said. ¡°Look,¡± he added. ¡°Isn¡¯t it beautiful? All the most terrible things are, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Lane stared at the little professor but she could not tell if his senses had been addled by the Rot after all, or if he had simply passed fear to head straight for the calm fields of death¡¯s acceptance.


    She turned to the window. There was a figure outside, a lithe creature of lush green and deep brown, very different from the greyish colours of the other Rot monsters. Its proportions were more balanced, too. It looked a bit like a woman, though it was only about child-sized. It had two legs, two arms and curves that looked vaguely feminine. There was no sign that it was of the Rot at all. Its skin looked like it was covered in fresh, healthy leaves.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Lane whispered.


    ¡°Some type of Dryad, I would guess,¡± Audenne said. ¡°A forest nymph. According to legend they were once quite common in these forests.¡±


    It was beautiful, Lane had to admit. She wanted to go down there and touch its strange skin.


    ¡°What else do you know about Dryads?¡± she asked, to keep the professor talking. It was hard to speak suddenly but his voice was something to focus on, something other than that strange desire.


    The creature terrified her more than any Rot-monster she had ever seen. Mostly because its influence clearly already reached them, despite the fact that the windows were unbroken and she couldn¡¯t even smell the slightest whiff of the foul stink.


    Audenne didn¡¯t seem bothered. He was noting down the time of the Rot-queen¡¯s arrival and then started to draw it.


    ¡°Oh, there are many stories,¡± he replied. ¡°Most agree that they are very shy, but there¡¯s some disagreement whether they¡¯re helpful to humans or mischievous.¡±


    ¡°Powerful?¡±


    ¡°Not particularly,¡± Audenne said. ¡°If the stories are true, most Dryads can¡¯t move further than a hundred paces away from the tree they¡¯re born from. All their powers are said to stem from that tree. Mostly they can hide someone they want to protect, or trip up someone they don¡¯t like. They aren¡¯t generally said to be too cunning, either. Of course, all the works I could get my hands on are ancient texts, many of which don¡¯t even claim to be scientific. So it might well be that what I know are just fairy tales.¡±


    ¡°Maybe the Rot took its tree and turned the Dryad in the process,¡± Lane said softly.


    Sun, she hoped that he was right. A weak Rot-queen probably wouldn¡¯t be too much trouble for Morgulon?


    If they lived long enough for the werewolf to get here.


    ¡°Uh,¡± Lane added, ¡°was there anything in the books about illusions?¡±


    The Dryad had changed shape ¨C or at least its appearance.


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Audenne muttered. ¡°What does it look like to you?¡±


    Lane opened her mouth and just barely managed to stop herself from telling him that the Dryad looked like the first girl she had ever fallen in love with. ¡°Someone I used to know,¡± she croaked instead. ¡°What do you see?¡±


    ¡°I see my wife. Who has been dead for half a decade, and if she was still alive, would be nearing her seventies. But I see her as she was when I first fell in love with her.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s calling to me,¡± Lane whispered ¨C mostly she noticed the sudden calm that had come over her, paired with the mounting urge to go and have a closer look.


    Audenne quit taking notes to reach for her hand, balancing his sketchbook and pencil in the other. ¡°To me, too. Like a Siren. I never heard of Dryads doing that.¡±


    Lane had no idea what a Siren¡¯s call might sound or feel like. Didn¡¯t they sing to lure sailors to their doom? She hadn¡¯t actually heard the Rot-queen call her. Not with her ears. But the image of it that Lane saw had changed again: she saw Theresa out there now. She wanted to go to her and check on her friend, maybe tell her, finally, that she would like to be more than just friends. Maybe a kiss...


    Against their will, both she and Audenne took a step towards the edge of the balcony at the same time.


    Audenne stopped at the simple handrail, but Lane was much nimbler than he. It wasn¡¯t hard for her to duck underneath it and let her feet dangle off the platform. It wasn¡¯t such a deep fall. She¡¯d probably only break a leg.


    Down below, the navvies were ¨C not frozen. They were singing? Yes! And she even knew this song! It was a closing song, as in ¡°closing the pub¡± song ¨C there probably wasn¡¯t a man present who didn¡¯t know this one: A song about old friends and keeping their memories alive. She found herself singing along under her breath without thinking about it. So did Audenne.


    Her father had always sneered when someone mentioned the magic inherent to music. Lane was hardly surprised to realize that he had been wrong about that, too. Because the song did drown out the Rot-queen¡¯s call, so much so that even the werewolves could join in, despite the fact that they had been the first ones affected. Audenne helped pull her up back onto the balcony all the way.


    Someone else slipped through underneath the railing, grabbed by his mates at the last second. The man hung there like clothes from a line, held on each arm by a comrade who were gasping and cursing with the effort.


    ¡°Hold him!¡± Eyal yelled. ¡°Pull him up! The rest of you lot up there! If you still got a head on your shoulders, block the closest window! Close the shutters! Hurry up and get down here! We¡¯ll take the ladders down in a minute!¡±


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    Lane looked around in a daze. Some men obeyed, others climbed off the balcony as fast as they could, but most just stood around, looking ¨C not even scared. Just lost.


    It took Lane the full minute of Eyal¡¯s time limit to realize that she was just standing there, staring at people, too. Audenne had to push her towards the ladders, right before they were taken down. She lost her footing halfway down and couldn¡¯t quite figure out why she should even hold on ¨C Andrew caught her with a grunt, and held her until she stood safely on her own feet. He pressed a silver dowel into her hands, like the one she had poked him with earlier.


    ¡°Hold onto something silver,¡± he said. ¡°It really helps.¡±


    Lane nodded numbly. A surprising number of people had followed Eyal¡¯s orders and climbed down from the balcony. Prof. Audenne was back in front of his window, the only one still uncovered, with his sketchbook and pencils. He was still drawing, his right hand moving like a blur. The rest of the men up there were frozen statues. Only their shadows danced in the gloomy light the torches cast. Smoke already collected underneath the high ceiling.


    Without warning, one of the navvies up there walked to the edge of the balcony, ducked underneath the railing, and simply let himself fall down to the ground. This time, there was nobody close enough to hold him and he fell, at least twelve feet down. He landed with a sickening crunch and didn¡¯t get up again.


    Lane jerked her head away. She had to take a few deep, slow breaths to stop herself from gagging at the sight of the awkward angles and the bulges in both the man¡¯s legs.


    Still, the scariest part was probably how long it took before he started to scream.


    Just as he did, another fight broke out because somebody tried to open the main door.


    ¡°Hold onto each other, friends,¡± Eyal hollered. ¡°Everybody, form lines! Take the hand of the person next to you! Nobody opens those doors!¡±


    Lane found herself grabbed by Andrew on one side and Isaac on the other. They linked their arms with hers and pulled her into a rapidly growing circle of men hunkering down around the centre pedestal, the only piece of furniture they hadn¡¯t pushed towards the wall. Mr. Kohen stood in the middle of the knot of people right next to it. Lane couldn¡¯t understand a word of what he was saying, but she was pretty sure he was reciting a prayer. On her right side, Isaac was softly murmuring along. Andrew on her other side had his eyes closed and his head bowed. Lane wondered whether he prayed as well and if so, to which god.


    She tried to ask Mithras for protection against the corruption outside the walls, but her mind was completely blank. All she managed was a silent string of ¡°please, please, oh Mithras, oh Mighty Sun, please.¡±


    Suddenly, a voice rose over the nervous chatter all around. ¡°Let¡¯s hear another song, lads! Join me if you know the words!¡±, a man yelled. Lane, somewhat surprised, recognized Nosson the cook. He started, in a surprisingly pleasant, carrying baritone: ¡°There once was a ship that put to sea, the name of the ship was the Billy o¡¯ Tea...¡±


    Lane didn¡¯t know this one. It sounded like a sea shanty, though. She could only guess that Nosson had been a ship¡¯s cook at some point.


    She hummed along while the navvies sang. That was enough. The music enveloped her and kept the worst of the Rot¡¯s influence at bay, helping her to breathe easier. It was a relief to know that there was anything they could do ¨C that something as simple as music and human company was enough to counter the unnatural, demonic influence of the Rot.


    The songs flowed into each other.


    Her lighter mood lasted right until Anthony started screaming and sprouting fur all over his face and Lane realized that they had never actually gotten around to putting any silver on him. Two navvies jumped up to grab him, knocking the back of his head into the pillar he had been tied to, but it bought them only a few seconds before Anthony¡¯s body started shifting again.


    ¡°Silver! Anyone got a silver necklace?¡± Andrew tried to make himself heard over the commotion, while he hurried over. Lane followed, but Eyal was already there, holding onto the young werewolf. He hadn¡¯t fully turned yet, but his face was already more of a snout. Eyal had wrapped his huge hands around it to prevent him from biting anyone.


    Lane saw the muscles in his forearms bulge with the effort. She could only marvel at how calm he was.


    Mr. Kohen was pushing his way through the mass of people sitting on the ground who couldn¡¯t move away quickly. He was surprisingly fast on his feet for a man his age.


    ¡°Move back,¡± he ordered crisply. ¡°Further back, yes, Mr. Feleke, you too. Quick, I will need some room.¡±


    Lane had no idea what he was going to do, but did her best to give him space, even though it meant stepping on Isaac¡¯s toes. Mr. Kohen began to circle Eyal and the struggling, half-transformed Anthony. As he walked, he recited something. It sounded like it was the same language he had prayed in before, now with a clear cadence to it, like a chant. From a small pouch, he scattered dirt onto the ground.


    Eyal kneeled in the middle of the circle, his hands still holding Anthony¡¯s muzzle shut, pressing the werewolf¡¯s head down to the ground so he could bring his whole weight to bear. He was shaking visibly with the effort of holding the beast, sweat running into his beard, but he made no sound and Lane thought his eyes might be closed. The huge wolf had broken free of the ropes that had tied him to the wooden pillar and was fighting with all his inhuman strength against the man stopping him from getting lose and attacking anyone.


    Lane took an involuntary step backward as Anthony managed to set one foot against the pillar, giving himself more leverage to heave. She had no idea how Eyal held on.


    But he did. Long enough for Mr. Kohen to circle the two grappling figures seven times, until there was a continuous line of dirt surrounding them. He stopped walking, raised his hands, and spoke again. Isaac and all the other Wayfarers Lane could see ducked their heads and looked away from the older man as he spoke a last line of text.


    He hadn¡¯t closed his mouth when Eyal gasped and jumped back, well over the line on the ground. Anthony tried to follow him and slammed into thin air as if it was a wall. No part of his body could cross the lopsided ring of dirt on the floor.


    ¡°There¡¯s not even a whiff of magic in the air,¡± Andrew whispered next to Lane.


    She had noticed it, too. It might have been the werewolf neutralizing it right away, but she didn¡¯t think so. Any magic strong enough to keep a werewolf trapped like that would have to be extraordinarily powerful. They should have smelled some residue.


    Unless, of course, Mr. Kohen hadn¡¯t actually used magic at all.


    Eyal was still breathing heavily, but he managed to call: ¡°Settle down again, everyone! Take your neighbours¡¯ hands! And let¡¯s hear another song!¡±


    Nosson promptly began again, a jaunty, happy tune this time:


    ¡°I have naught but one thin dime,


    and that dime¡¯s not even mine,


    Raise your glasses,


    Lads and lasses


    We¡¯ll drink whiskey, we¡¯ll drink wine!¡±


    Again, it wasn¡¯t a song Lane knew, but that was fine. She could still hum along. Her hands clasped one of Andrew¡¯s, who had linked arms with Isaac, who in turn leaned against someone else. They were all connected, all of them struggling against the Rot¡¯s influence together. Sometimes she tried to get up, to get to the doors ¨C not to let the Rot in, just to take a peak! She just needed to know what was going on, lift the claustrophobic feeling from her chest ¨C


    But whatever was out there, as powerful as it was, it could never enthral all of them together. So each time the compulsion came over her, Andrew¡¯s strong brown hands pulled her down again, or someone behind her placed their hands on her shoulders. Every now and then she had to hold onto Andrew the same way and every time she was glad for the strangers all around them, helping. Andrew probably could have dragged her all the way to the door.


    She had no idea how long they had been sitting like this when something roared outside, quickly followed by a werewolf¡¯s howl. Anthony and Rhuad both shrieked at the sound, stifling the cry of relief in Lane¡¯s throat.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Lane asked, to nobody in particular. No one else could see more than her, anyway.


    But the words were repeated over and over, all around, and then Audenne said:


    ¡°There¡¯s a second Rot-queen outside.¡±


    Lane¡¯s head snapped up and around, until she spotted the Professor. He had used his belt to tie himself to the railing of the balcony right across from his window. People promptly called for him to tell them more, until Digger bellowed: ¡°Silence! How¡¯s he supposed to speak?¡±


    ¡°A corrupted werewolf just walked into camp,¡± Audenne reported. He was still holding onto his sketch book and pencils, drawing quickly.


    ¡°Someone we know?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°I do not recognize this one, no,¡± Audenne said. He barely glanced out the window, though, and focused on his work. ¡°Obviously, appearances may be deceiving. But I am sure it¡¯s another queen, since at its howl all the creepers started turning into brutes. They are flowing together, merging as we speak. The brutes are growing bigger, too.¡±


    Lane could just about imagine that sight ¨C she remembered all too well how George Louis¡¯s amulet had allowed the three creepers from the forest near Eoforwic to form a single brute, and the trouble Greg had had defeating it on his own.


    Audenne did sneak a glance outside and promptly, his head fell forwards, until his chin rested on his chest. His arms sagged, too, and he nearly lost his book. He reflexively gripped it tighter, and that motion seemed to break the snare of magic. He shook his head in annoyance, but didn¡¯t dare glance out the window again.


    The navvies looked at each other worriedly, but there was nothing they could do to help the professor. Before they could pick up their song again, something smashed with a deafening crunch into the walls. The same thing repeated a dozen times all around and Lane could see the flames of the torches flicker as the whole building shook.


    ¡°Brutes,¡± Audenne said, his voice strangled. ¡°The queens turned all the creepers into brutes. They swarmed the golem on this side ¨C oh no, wait ¨C it freed itself. It¡¯s missing a hand...¡±


    Audenne trailed off, then managed one last sentence: ¡°The window is broken.¡±


    Then he froze on the spot, finally dropping his pencils and book.


    Lane smelled it before she felt it: The sick, fetid smell of the swamp, of decay and mildew. Of death.


    Her breath hitched, as if her lungs refused to inhale that stink. Leaden stillness settled in her bones. The mere idea of so much as moving a hand suddenly felt impossible. Just breathing was hard. The lights flickered all around as the witch burned at the stake. Lane didn¡¯t know her. Just some unknown unsanctioned magic user. One of nearly three dozen, captured all around Loegrion.


    The circus burned and a young girl screamed. Lane was dimly aware that this wasn¡¯t real ¨C she hadn¡¯t even been born when her father had set out to kill the monster ¨C kill Morgulon. Kill her friend. Not back then. Just a child. An innocent.


    A werewolf. How could a werewolf ever be innocent?


    Lane shook her head, almost annoyed at herself. As soon as she came to, she started coughing with the stink. She wasn¡¯t the only one, though some navvies, somehow, still kept a tune going.


    Lane tried to sing along, but she couldn¡¯t get a single word out. She wasn¡¯t sure if she even knew this particular melody. The singing of the navvies grew distant and the words warped and warbled in her ears until she heard church hymns rather than the navvies¡¯ working songs. Except that she couldn¡¯t really understand the hymns either. Or maybe she just didn¡¯t know the words to this song.


    But she knew the whole hymnal by heart, so this either wasn¡¯t a Church-approved song or...


    Or the Rot had gotten into her head again.


    She had a brief, brief moment of clarity ¨C though she could still hear the strange chant ¨C and then she stood in front of her father again, thirteen years old, her whole face aching from the slap.


    Her mother ¨C her mother¡¯s body was hanging limply in her arms. She¡¯d bled out fast from the werewolf bites. The Morgulon was howling in the distance.


    Lane¡¯s head snapped up.


    Morgulon was howling in the distance.

 Chapter 104

    Lane blinked blinking against the light that fell into her face, trying to clear her vision. She couldn¡¯t see anything but the Rot and one of the golems outside, but it had to be Morgulon, right? No other werewolf would be powerful enough to break the Rot¡¯s spell with a single howl.


    It took a long, long time for her to realize that she shouldn¡¯t have been able to see even that much.


    There was a hole in the wall. A huge, gaping hole with jagged edges where something had broken through the massive timbers.


    While Lane still stared, the clay man gripped one of the Rot-creatures trying to get in through the gap in the walls and threw it into a pile of them. The golem was missing one of its hands and something had taken a big chunk out of one leg, too, but the giant wasn¡¯t slowed down by that. The Rot, however, was spell-bound by the echo of Morgulon¡¯s voice. They moved sluggishly, and Lane thought she saw some insecurity, even glances back towards the place where the two queens watched the battle.


    The fighting slowed enough that Lane could hear Mr. Kohen yell: ¡°Golems! Don¡¯t attack the werewolves!¡±


    A second later, Eyal bellowed: ¡°Grab your tools, everyone who can! The werewolves are here but it ain¡¯t over yet! Get ready to fight!¡±


    How many people had the Rot dragged off and killed while she had been out of it? There were a lot of holes in the walls all around, even though most weren¡¯t nearly as big as the one right in front of her. Lane stood up in a daze and turned around herself. Where was Andrew? Isaac? They¡¯d been right next to her!


    Up on the walkway, Audenne was pushing past the navvies who were stumbling about, coming to their senses slowly, just like Lane. The motion caught her eyes.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± he called, pushing along the balcony to get to a window on the other side. ¡°Excuse me, but I do need to see this!¡±


    He used his elbows liberally to make his way to a broken window that overlooked the southern side of the camp from where they had heard Morgulon.


    ¡°This is going to be an important scientific discovery, the first fight between a werewolf and a Rot-queen ever recorded! May I ¨C excuse me ¨C make way for science!¡±


    Lane stared after him, then out of the big hole in the northern wall, where the Rot-queens were visible. A dryad and a werewolf. Lane didn¡¯t recognize it, so hopefully, it used to be a mad one.


    ¡°Ladders up!¡±


    Digger¡¯s booming voice shook her out of it. ¡°Quit gaping, men! Get down here, you cowards! Quick, while they¡¯re distracted!¡±


    Before he even finished the words, the handless golem kicked one of the brutes hard enough that it flew through the air right at the two queens. The dryad bellowed as it stepped aside, a deep, echoing roar that sounded completely wrong coming from the tiny, lithe queen. The host of brutes threw itself at the golem, even abandoning their attempts to get to the navvies, bringing it down.


    Lane stumbled out of the way as all around, people were gearing up, arming themselves. She let someone press a shovel into her hands with a long handle and a mean, sharp edged blade. She barely noticed. She was craning her neck to see through the cracks in the wall, get a look at Morgulon. All she saw was Calder as he bore down on a brute. And there was Ragna, ripping apart another.


    ¡°Focus, girl!¡± a man who couldn¡¯t be older than she was yelled at her. Before Lane could yell back, someone else spun her around by the shoulder.


    ¡°You there, girl, you¡¯re perfect!¡± the guy declared. ¡°Hitch yer skirt up!¡±


    And before she could protest, Lane was grabbed on both sides, lifted high and onto the man¡¯s shoulders. She almost screamed in surprise when she found herself close enough to the Rot to kiss it: A smallish Rot-brute, pushing through a hole right underneath the balcony. Too high for the men to reach from the ground. It had gotten one arm free and the wooden wall was sprouting new branches already. Lane swung her shovel when it reached for her.


    At least she was fully awake now.


    The other two navvies helped steady her, yelling encouragements, and an axe was offered to her instead of the shovel.


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    ¡°Get that sucker! Smash its ugly face in!¡±


    Lane swore under her breath and swung the axe with all the strength she possessed. She hacked the arm off, first, and then hit the thing right into its not-eyes. It howled so loud she almost tumbled backwards into thin air, but the navvies had a good grip on her boots and stopped her from falling. She hit it with the axe two more times and the howling stopped.


    ¡°Shovel!¡± Lane gasped and they obliged her at once. She used the longer handle to dislodge the brute fully. Someone offered her wood, nails and a hammer, but before she could even try to board up the opening, the next Rot-thing showed its ugly mug. Lane let it extend an unnaturally long neck and then beheaded it, so that the body got stuck.


    ¡°That should do it!¡± the man with the nails cheered.


    Unfortunately, that wasn¡¯t the only hole high up in the walls. Lane found herself lifted down, lifted up and handed around like a doll. A doll with an axe in her hand.


    At least she was doing something useful.


    She ended up standing on Andrew¡¯s shoulders, in front of a hole so big, whatever had cause it had taken out part of the balcony above, too.


    ¡°I wish we had anything to shoot the Rot with!¡± Isaac yelled. He was lying flat on his belly on the remaining platform. It groaned any time he moved to push back at the creatures that tried to climb in with his shovel. Lane was rather glad that she stood securely on Andrew¡¯s shoulders.


    She was too out of breath to answer, so she just nodded. Unfortunately, bullets where completely useless against the Rot, even silver ones. Maybe if they had a cannon to shoot the burning ammunition they¡¯d had at Oldstone Castle...


    Morgulon howled again somewhere outside. Lane craned her neck hoping to see her, but the she-wolf was moving around the camp all the time, avoiding the two queens that chased after her, trying to box her in. Ragna and Calder took out one brute after the other, but there were just so many of them!


    Was that an echo? Lane thought she could still hear a werewolf, only softer, more distant, from a different direction. But there were no mountains around to reflect Morgulon¡¯s voice like that.


    Unless it wasn¡¯t an echo at all?


    ¡°Please, Lord Mithras, let it not be another Rot-queen,¡± Lane muttered, which earned her some weird looks from Isaac.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked, just as Morgulon howled again


    ¡°Listen,¡± Lane whispered.


    Yes, there was definitely an answer from the distance.


    ¡°Watch it!¡± Isaac yelled.


    Lane swore. A ghoulish creature had climbed up to them, a monster of a creeper joined with the corpse of one of their own men. Lane¡¯s and Isaac¡¯s spades clanked together in their haste to push it down again.


    Lane sneaked a glance over her shoulder to where the wounded lay in the middle of the hall. Anthony and Rhuad had been freed when Morgulon had appeared, and were busy licking their wounds clean to make sure they didn¡¯t catch with the decay that had cost Nathan his foot.


    One of the golems went past the hole and for second, Lane could lower her weapon. Her arms were getting heavy. Luckily, so far she was without injury, but she had no idea how much longer Andrew would be able to carry her, or how much longer the golems would be able to keep the Rot from tearing down the rest of the walls.


    If Morgulon didn¡¯t get into the fight soon, they¡¯d be in huge trouble. There was no way the navvies would be able to fight off this army, not without help from outside.


    ¡°Hey, isn¡¯t that Greg?¡± Isaac yelled, loud enough to be heard even over the noise of another brute trying to climb in.


    ¡°What?¡± Andrew snapped.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure it is him!¡± Isaac went on. Lane tried to see what he was talking about, but he had a different angle than her, and then the Rot was right in her face again.


    When she had time to pay attention, she realized that there were suddenly a lot of werewolves in the camp ¨C there was Greg, and then there were at least three werewolves Lane was certain she had never seen before.


    Audenne was running around up on the still safe parts of the balcony as fast as his old feet carried him. ¡°There¡¯s ¨C there¡¯s a whole pack out there!¡± he yelled. ¡°I see ¨C one, two, three, four, no, that¡¯s the same one again ¨C¡°


    Lane hit another brute and then she heard Audenne yell: ¡°Nine new werewolves! Nine! They¡¯re driving the Rot away from the roadhouse!¡±


    The Rot-queens must have sensed the danger, too, because they roared again. Lane swayed and almost fell when her legs grew weak. Morgulon was forced to stop and howl again to break the spell. Lane shook her head and forced herself to breathe deeply, even though the air reeked of decay. The powers clashing all around made her hair stand on edge.


    She barely managed to push back the two brutes that tried to climb in at the same time, and she could hear people scream. The number of navvies defending the hall was dropping faster than the number of Rot-creatures outside.


    Mr. Kohen and a couple of other men did their best with some bandages, but they had no healers, or even doctors, and most navvies who got injured where out of the fight for good.


    Lane forced another brute down from the hole and waited for the next one. It didn¡¯t come. Instead, Lane noticed a strange, deep, reverberating sound. It had no effect on the defenders, but it seemed to scare the Rot. She watched them retreat, even flee, away from the werewolves and the last two heavily damaged golems.


    ¡°Now what?¡± Andrew asked.


    Lane looked over to Morgulon. There was someone standing at her side, a smaller, nearly black wolf with a lot of grey around the muzzle. The stranger was growling deep in their chest, and so was Morgulon.


    ¡°Let me down?¡± Lane asked. ¡°New werewolf,¡± she explained once she stood next to Andrew. ¡°They even look old.¡±


    ¡°You seen Greg out there?¡±


    Lane nodded. ¡°Briefly.¡±


    Andrew promptly hurried away. He glanced out of the biggest hole in the walls, blocked only by a couple of hastily nailed together tables and guarded by Eyal and his best men. When he didn¡¯t see anything, he went up a ladder, hurrying along the windows, until he found one that let him see what was going on.


    By the time Lane had caught up with him, the Rot was parting in front of Morgulon, Ragna, and a werewolf Lane didn¡¯t know.

 Chapter 105

    Morgulon barked sharply and Lane saw the Rot all around her sway like leaves in a breeze. The two remaining golems didn¡¯t seem to hear her, just as they hadn¡¯t been affected by the Rot¡¯s foulness. They mostly acted as if the werewolves weren¡¯t there and continued to stomp and kick and crush the ugly bastards underfoot.


    Morgulon looked at the queens in front of her contemptuously and barked at them again. There was a clear challenge in the tone. The Rot-queens answered with a howl and a bellow from the dryad.


    Even that couldn¡¯t drive the rest of the Rot to attack the elder she-wolf and her companions.


    The fur on Morgulon¡¯s neck stood high on end, a thick mane except for where the skin had been burned too badly. Her focus was on the larger of the two queens, while Ragna and the stranger tracked the movements of the dryad, which was trying to circle them to get in Morgulon¡¯s blind spot.


    The powers clashing charged the air, enough for small blue storm fires to appear up on all the tips of the wooden fortifications around the camp, and on some of the pikes the navvies used. When Lane¡¯s axe got close to the blade of Isaac¡¯s shovel, a ribbon of blue sparks appeared between the two metallic surfaces.


    More blue sparks burned in Morgulon¡¯s fur, forming a flame, and then a sort of blue halo that surrounded her whole head. She threw herself at the larger of the queens ¨C the dryad tried to stab her in the back, but was blocked by Ragna and the stranger. It was hard to see what happened next ¨C Morgulon and the Rot-werewolf were moving too fast, teeth bared, hissing and growling almost like real wolves. Around them, shadows flickered and sparks of light flew high.


    It slowly dawned on Lane that she had never ever seen Morgulon fight before. Not really. It was a weird realisation. She had been at Deva, after all, had seen Morgulon rip apart the human sacrifice there ¨C but that had been a dance, Lane now realized, a performance arranged for the nobles in the ranks. Later, after the battle at Oldstone Castle, Lane had heard soldiers claim that Morgulon had cleared the western wall all on her own, but had thought that to be an exaggeration.


    Now, she wondered if it hadn¡¯t been true.


    There was clearly a dimension to this fight she couldn¡¯t truly fathom ¨C she just barely sensed how the powers charging the air heaved and shifted around the fighting werewolves like the unruly sea, but she couldn¡¯t tell who was winning.


    Something green flashed past, Ragna right behind it. The small, black elder with the grey muzzle barked sharply, and at the sound, most of the other werewolves who had come with him gave chase after the dryad that tried to get away.


    Greg swore inwardly and raced after the small, green figure that had shot across the destroyed camp like a bullet from a gun. His paws did not like this new exercise, especially not his barely healed hind-paw.


    He didn¡¯t have much choice though. Pierre¡¯s order was echoing in his head, and he was way too tired to even think about resisting that. Pierre had sensed the Rot-queens moving just as they had reached the summit of the Crucible Ridge, so they had run ¨C run ¨C nearly constantly for the past two weeks.


    They still needed to stop that fleeing queen. If it was allowed to replenish its strength and power, it might raze a town like Sheaf or the New Quarters of Eoforwic all on its own. Or even the whole city, and wouldn¡¯t that be a mess? Especially if word got around that a single, young werewolf ¨C like Greg ¨C could turn into that kind of city-destroying monster.


    Still, he stuck close to Gertrude. Pierre had told them stories about the last Rot-queen he had fought, twenty years ago, and if that dryad managed to get him alone, he was toast.


    He had just thought of it when the tiny green figure appeared right in front of him. It held out its tiny hands, a child¡¯s hands, really, as if it wanted to hug him. Greg tried to avoid it, jumping and throwing himself around, doubling like a hare. He hadn¡¯t even known he could do that!


    The dryad was still right in front of him.


    There was no way he could stop, so he didn¡¯t even try to slow. He should have run the creature over like a horse trampling a child.


    Instead, he smashed into the dryad as if it was a century old oak tree. He didn¡¯t even have enough air left for a shriek when the arms snaked around him and chocked him like a garrotte. His first instinct was to gasp for more, which the queen had apparently been counting on: vines shot out from its body, wrapping around his jaws and muzzle, yanking them apart further. An arm-thick, slimy something snaked up to his open mouth, dripping a viscous black substance that looked like poison ¨C


    Gertrude slammed into the dryad from behind, and Annabelle came at it from the other side.


    Greg felt the grip on his lower jaw ease and he snapped his teeth shut. The slimy something slapped against his nose. There wasn¡¯t much force behind it, yet Greg staggered, as if he had been punched in the face. A few droplets of the unknown liquid burned on his mucous membranes. He felt dizzy and his vision grew dim, then dark.


    He came back to his senses to someone licking his face urgently. He didn¡¯t even need to open his eyes to know that it was Morgulon. She was glowing in his mind, bright like those special alchemical fires Mr. Higgins had shown him, the ones that the teacher used in his photography. Only that she wasn¡¯t burning up nearly as quickly.


    He¡¯ll be fine, Morgulon informed whoever else was there. Get that Rot-queen. I¡¯ll take him back to the camp.


    Someone walked off.


    Get up, Morgulon ordered him. I know you¡¯re awake. It didn¡¯t get you that badly.


    Greg wanted to protest. The forest floor was quite comfortable here, and he was tired. His head still rang from his brief encounter with the queen.


    You can sleep in camp. Get up, Morgulon ordered again.


    Greg wanted to growl at her but couldn¡¯t get the sound out. Instead, his legs started to move on their own, pushing him up. He was hesitant to open his eyes, but when he finally did, he realized that the light was purely in his head.


    Why was she so bright suddenly? He was certain she hadn¡¯t been this bright at Oldstone Castle. And certainly not when they had set out last spring. Even he wouldn¡¯t have missed that kind of flame.


    I had just given birth at Oldstone Castle, Morgulon replied. And there was hardly any Rot here last spring.


    She walked him to the camp, right over to Pierre. The ancient werewolf inclined his head respectfully to her. Morgulon. Thank you for bringing him back safely.


    Morgulon nodded, too. Keep an eye on him, she said. One is still at large.


    With that, she jogged back towards the forest.


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    Pierre rounded on Greg as soon as her back was turned, washing his nose roughly. I told you, he scolded him, I told you to be careful!


    I was!, Greg protested. I was running right next to Gertrude, but that ¨C that thing came out of nowhere! As if it grew right out of the ground!


    He didn¡¯t even try to shake the elder off, who was done with his nose and muzzle and was now moving up to his neck and ears.


    That¡¯s what the Rot does, Pierre sighed. As if that was something Greg should have been ready for.


    ¡°Aw, did little Gregory get dirt on his face?¡± Isaac teased.


    Greg was so glad to see him, alive and mostly well, he didn¡¯t even mind the gleeful grin on his friend¡¯s face that told him that he was going to suffer for this. Isaac wasn¡¯t deterred by Pierre¡¯s presence, either, wrapping his arms tightly around Greg¡¯s neck. For once, Greg really didn¡¯t mind. Pierre barely paid attention to them, he was looking at something else.


    In the distance, a triumphant cheer went up. Greg turned his head, but his vision greyed out again and he stumbled into Isaac, who was just letting go. As fast as the spell of disorientation had started, it ended again. Greg blinked, confused and a little annoyed.


    ¡°Ye okay?¡± Isaac asked.


    Pierre stared at Greg intently, but then nodded.


    The Rot-queen is dead, he said. He sounded tense, despite the good news. And I¡¯m glad to see it didn¡¯t get you. Now, perhaps you would like to introduce us?


    Greg was just about to ask what had the elder so worried when he spotted Andrew and deLande coming closer with Eyal and Digger.


    Right. Time for the pack to meet his family.


    I¡¯ll need to get dressed.


    Isaac matched his pace as Greg trotted over to the group and tugged Andrew¡¯s sleeve gently.


    ¡°Let me guess. You want some of my clothes?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s got some,¡± Isaac said helpfully, just as Greg shook himself, which made the bundle on his back bounce up and down.


    ¡°The inn is closest and you can check what happened there,¡± Lane suggested. ¡°I¡¯ll wait here for Morgulon.¡±


    Greg was already moving. He needed to hurry up ¨C the nervousness of his pack leader was setting his teeth on edge, too. Andrew and Isaac had to jog after him.


    Greg could feel rather than see Pierre¡¯s pack returning to the camp through the cracks in the outer wall, plus the five werewolves Lee had convinced to come along. They gathered around Pierre in the big open space right in front of the inn. Laurent was the oldest of the five, older than Ragna. Greg had no idea where she and Morgulon had gone.


    One of the huge, destroyed clay figures had collapsed right in front of the Inn¡¯s entrance, interrupting the line of sight between Greg and the pack. Pierre clearly didn¡¯t like letting him out of his view: Greg had to struggle to move past that point.


    Isaac and Andrew noticed his hesitation, of course. It was Isaac who asked: ¡°Ye okay, man? Why did that guy kiss ye back there, and with so much tongue, too?¡±


    Greg shook the thick fur in his neck in annoyance and rolled his eyes, which apparently told Isaac something, because he looked relieved. ¡°Ye¡¯re okay, yes?¡± he repeated.


    Greg nodded, still annoyed.


    Pierre had not kissed him. Thoko wouldn¡¯t like that, and aside, Pierre was old!


    ¡°Greg. Ye know I was just kidding, don¡¯t ye?¡±


    Greg grumbled softly to himself, but it wasn¡¯t like he could tell Isaac who Pierre was. Also, they had reached the coaching inn. Unlike the barracks that made up the rest of the camp, this building was several hundred years old and had been built for the exact purpose of withstanding the Rot. It had its own protective palisades and reinforced stone walls. Every part of it was doused in alchemy, paid for by the Empire to keep the postal coaches running. Good alchemy, in other words. As a result, the Rot had had a much harder time getting in.


    Still, at least one brute had managed to force its way through a window. Its motionless husk had fallen right in front of the bar, the only piece of furniture in the room that hadn¡¯t been completely trashed. Soldiers were busy digging their fallen comrades out from underneath the wreckage of tables, wooden pillars, and parts of the ceiling. Moans of pain from the injured filled the air. Despite a young werewolf¡¯s best efforts, Greg saw a lot of wounds turning foul and the stink of the Rot remained heavy all around.


    ¡°Take the injured outside right away,¡± Andrew ordered a soldier with sergeants stripes. ¡°The new werewolves will be able to help even where Anthony can¡¯t. Lady deLande is out there, she¡¯ll see to it. Is it safe to go upstairs?¡±


    The sergeant gave him a blank look and mumbled something about sending an expedition up.


    Greg didn¡¯t have time for that. He walked past the bar, taking the first open door: There was a dark corridor on the other side. A tiny bit of light fell over a threshold that had the door ripped out. Greg padded into the room on the other side ¨C probably for staff. It was tiny, with a narrow bed, just big enough that Greg could turn around while wolf. He started his transformation just as Andrew and Isaac followed him. He rushed himself, which meant he stumbled around a lot and nearly crashed into the bed.


    ¡°Who is the guy who was washing your face?¡± Isaac asked once Greg reached for his clothes. ¡°What was that about?¡±


    ¡°Pierre.¡±


    ¡°Ragna¡¯s Pierre?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Yes, the very same.¡±


    ¡°Finally, some good news,¡± Andrew muttered. He looked over his shoulders just as Greg sat down on the bed to put on his boots.


    ¡°And why did he wash you so thoroughly?¡± Isaac wanted to know.


    ¡°I ran into that smaller Rot-queen,¡± Greg grumbled. ¡°She grabbed me, tried to force something into my mouth. It¡¯s fine, no need to look so shocked, Pierre made sure I was fine. That¡¯s why he licked my face, cause it had gotten something into my nose. I swear it¡¯s fine. The queen is dead, and Pierre was sure he¡¯d have noted if it had gotten me.¡±


    Greg finished putting on his boots. Before he could quite straighten up, Andrew wrapped his arms around him, muttering: ¡°Sun, I¡¯m glad to see you, little brother.¡±


    ¡°How did you guys know to come here?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°We¡¯d have been toast without you.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been running for weeks like the Inquisition was behind us to get here in time,¡± Greg said when Andrew let go. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you on the way.¡±


    He turned to the door. Of course, the monster waiting in the shadows of the hallway picked the exact moment when he stepped outside to jump them, raking misshapen claws over the arms Greg raised to protect his face on instinct.


    He cursed and grabbed it before it could duck around him to get to Andrew or Isaac. In the narrow, dark corridor, without torches or proper weapons, they would have been in a rather fine pickle with a full-grown brute bearing down on them. But the Rot-queens were dead, and Pierre and pack were right outside, so all Greg needed to do was scream as loud as he could and hold on.


    No, it wasn¡¯t particularly heroic, but it only took a second for Pierre¡¯s answering howl to echo through the camp. Suddenly, the old pack leader burned as brightly in Greg¡¯s mind as Morgulon had until a few minutes ago.


    ¡°Backup?¡± Andrew asked behind him.


    A grunt was the best reply Greg managed. The Rot was bloody wriggly, raking its claws across his back. The damn thing couldn¡¯t have attacked before he got dressed? That was another perfectly good shirt ruined.


    People screamed in the main room and then Greg heard claws on the stone floor.


    Saved again by a girl, Gertrude teased in his head even while she ripped the Rot-monster to pieces.


    ¡°Yeah, you know, I really don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Gertrude pointed out that this is the second time she¡¯s had to save my arse,¡± Greg translated. ¡°Today,¡± he amended. ¡°The second time today.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let Thoko hear that,¡± Andrew said wryly. ¡°And thanks, Gertrude.¡±


    The three of them hurried back outside, while the she-wolf stayed behind to explore the rest of the roadhouse, in case there were more brutes or creepers hiding.


    The pack was clearly waiting for their arrival. Morgulon was nowhere in sight. Neither was Ragna. Calder, Anthony and Rhuad kept their distance, tending to the injured soldiers. That left Pierre, the five remaining werewolves of his pack, and the five that either Lee had found or that had joined them on their way back. Lee and Edith were taking the long way back, to see if they could find others who might help, way up north.


    The werewolves present were all very, very nervous. Even Pierre had his hackles raised, but didn¡¯t quite dare to growl at deLande, who stood facing the direction Morgulon had left in. The navvies carefully kept their distance from the large, restless pack, forming a wide ring around them. They moved to let Greg, Andrew and Isaac pass to the point where Digger and Eyal stood.


    Eyal nearly crushed Greg in a bear-hug, and even Digger looked like he was considering grabbing him.


    ¡°That was some amazing timing you guys had,¡± Eyal said as he let go. ¡°Thanks a lot for saving us.¡±


    ¡°How did you know we needed help?¡± Digger asked.


    Greg took a few steps forward, until he stood closer to the middle of the circle. ¡°This is Pierre,¡± he introduced the elder. ¡°He¡¯s the oldest werewolf this side of the High Plains. Two weeks ago, he sensed a Rot-queen moving in the distance. We¡¯ve been running ever since to try and catch it, especially once we realized where it was going.¡±


    We¡¯re glad we made it here in time, Pierre added, finally turning his back on deLande.


    Greg dutifully translated that. Then he went around and introduced the other werewolves.


    Slowly, the pack calmed down when it became clear that neither of the two hunters present was interested in shooting them. Some of them even went over to help clean the wounds of the injured. The rest just settled down in the middle of the camp, out of the way, while the navvies got started on cleaning up the chaos all around. And on dinner, in Nosson¡¯s case.


    The calm lasted right until Morgulon and Ragna finally returned with Oli. Who had been shot with silver.

 Chapter 106

    Nathan swung his crossbow around when something barked not far away. He tried to pierce the dense fir trees, but couldn¡¯t see any movement.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered.


    A small, shaking hand tugged his shirt¡¯s sleeve. Nathan was so surprised he actually lowered the weapon.


    Oli flinched away from him at once.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s someone from the camp?¡± Nathan asked, though the kid hadn¡¯t spoken a single word since Nathan had taken out the bolt he had shot him with. The child was grey in the face and shaking with both cold and pain. Nathan had given him his coat so he wouldn¡¯t be completely naked, but it didn¡¯t help much.


    Unfortunately, there had been no way for Oli to walk in his wolf-shape, not with the injury to his shoulder. Not that they had walked far, anyway. Oli had begged until Nathan had taken the risk of pulling out the silver dowel. He had done his best, but he wasn¡¯t a surgeon, and he was afraid he had only made things worse.


    When he looked at him, Oli nodded slowly.


    Nathan sighed, but drove the silver tip of his spear into the ground, then took the bolts out of the action of the crossbow. Finally, he lifted the weapon high.


    It seemed to work. He heard a rustle, and then two werewolves stepped into view. Morgulon and Ragna. Nathan could have cried at the sight.


    The cavalry was here.


    It only hurt for a second that he used to be the guy people called for help with monsters, not the one who needed rescue.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you a sight for sore eyes,¡± he sighed when the two she-wolves stopped a few yards away. ¡°Care to give the kid a ride?¡±


    He could really use one, too. His bad leg was not liking this hike. Or this weather. It felt frozen, painfully so, down from the knee to where the healer had had to cut off his foot, and he was sore all over.


    Morgulon took a small step forward, sniffing the air and staring at Oli vigilantly, while Ragna angled her body a little. Nathan recognized the movement at once. He had guarded David¡¯s back a thousand times like that. But why was Morgulon looking at Oli like that?


    Both she-wolves were bleeding.


    Nathan blinked when the realization set in. It wasn¡¯t just a little blood, either, but enough to soak through their thick winter coats, turn them matted. Something really had done a number on them. It had to have been the Rot, right? Since they hadn¡¯t tried to heal the wounds by transforming? Or were the wounds already closed and only the blood remained? It was impossible to tell with all that fur.


    ¡°Uh, are you ladies okay?¡± Nathan asked.


    Morgulon moved forwards slowly, her tail raised high like a regular wolf asserting dominance. Ragna moved with her smoothly, still guarding her back.


    Nathan had no idea what was going on, but his crossbow was currently useless and he didn¡¯t want to risk a fight at spear range. Not against the two elders who didn¡¯t seem too bothered by whatever injuries they might have. So he backed off before Morgulon could get close enough to jump him.


    Neither Morgulon nor Ragna paid him any attention. They were fully focused on Oli, and not in the ¡°oh, the poor kid¡± manner Nathan had been expecting. They seemed to be really wary of the boy.


    Morgulon stopped within arm¡¯s length of Oli and barked once, a sound that echoed between the trees and sent a bunch of birds flying in fright. Oli just looked confused. Hurt. Scared.


    Ragna left her place at Morgulon¡¯s back and circled around Oli. Finally, Morgulon closed the distance and with a rough tongue washed over Oli¡¯s face. Not in a gentle way.


    When the boy barely reacted, Ragna finally lowered her guard and stepped forward to join Morgulon who seemed determined to wash every inch of Oli¡¯s head and face, down to his neck. They even pushed Nathan¡¯s jacket aside to clean the kid¡¯s upper back and chest, also his arms and feet ¨C even under his dirty feet. Sometimes they spit something out.


    Only when there wasn¡¯t a speck of mud left on the boy did they stop, sniffing the air again and relaxing a little. Morgulon ¡°wuffed,¡± softly at Nathan, while Ragna lowered herself to the ground.


    ¡°Right,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Right.¡±


    Oli shied away from him again, but let himself be helped onto Ragna¡¯s back when Morgulon poked him with her wet nose. Once Oli sat securely, Morgulon let Nathan climb onto her own back, and they were off.


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    It only took about half an hour for the two she-wolves to carry them to the clear-felled area around the camp. Nathan shuddered at the view. The outer walls were pretty much gone, torn down, and he could see smoke rising from at least one of the barracks. The telegraph mast had been snapped like a twig. There were, however, a lot of people milling about outside, busy with clean-up.


    ¡°Guess you got there just in time, huh?¡± Nathan asked Morgulon.


    The navvies came running, shouting and cheering excitedly when they saw Oli, sitting on Ragna¡¯s back under his own power. They parted for Morgulon and Ragna, with more men quickly closing the gap. Hands reached for Oli to lift him gently down from Ragna¡¯s back, but Morgulon kept walking as more people pushed in to see how the boy was doing.


    Nathan craned his neck until he spotted Andrew. And there ¨C with that huge pack of unfamiliar werewolves ¨C was that Greg? How?


    Just as Morgulon stopped and Nathan wanted to jump to the ground and greet his brothers, a murmur went around the navvies. ¡°Silver ¨C shot with silver ¨C but he¡¯s alive!¡± and one of the new werewolves growled in alarm. Another one screamed, which was made worse by the fact that they were still in their wolf shape.


    Right. New werewolves just as they brought in a young boy shot with silver.


    The strange pack had been mostly resting on the ground, but now they shot to their feet, hackles raised, growling, barking, and looking around wild-eyed. Several of them surrounded Morgulon, clearly looking for some kind of reassurance from her.


    Nathan grabbed his spear tighter, wishing that he had taken his chance earlier to get to the ground. There was no way he would get down now if she didn¡¯t make him. He craned his head. Andrew and Lane had both backed up together with most of the navvies, which was probably wise, and Greg was talking very quickly to a smaller, black werewolf.


    Morgulon calmly stood in the middle of the panicked pack. She seemed to be talking to them but made no attempt to get Nathan off her back.


    The gong rang out that called the navvies together for their meals. It startled the werewolves so much that they froze in place so that Nathan could hear Greg¡¯s hurried explanation of the signal. Eyal must have heard it, too, because he raised his voice to announce: ¡°You are all welcome to join us for dinner!¡±


    Maybe it was that gesture that did it: The wolves calmed down a bit, enough so that they could watch warily as Eyal¡¯s men dragged tables and seats out into the open, despite the cold weather. Nathan took this chance to slide down from Morgulon¡¯s back. His tired legs almost gave out underneath him and he had to grip his spear with both hands. Blinding pain shot up his leg.


    Andrew and Greg were at his side by the time his vision cleared. Nathan ripped the bloody silver helmet off his head and pressed it into Andrew¡¯s outstretched arms before he accepted Greg¡¯s help over to one of the benches. It had a table, too. Andrew sat down across from him, but Greg remained standing, nervously stepping from one foot onto the other. Nathan wondered if that was because of all the silver amulets he still had on him.


    ¡°What the hell happened here?¡± Nathan asked, once he was settled down and had caught his breath enough to look around. The outer wall wasn¡¯t the only wall full of holes.


    ¡°Hell no,¡± Greg snapped. ¡°Absolutely not. You go first! What happened to Oli?¡±


    Nathan stared at Greg. That ¨C didn¡¯t sound like his little brother at all?


    ¡°No, seriously. Everyone is demanding to get that answer. I¡¯ve got a dozen elders putting pressure on me to find out! Including Pierre and the Morgulon!¡±


    ¡°Pierre. As in, that really old dude from Ragna¡¯s pack you met on your first visit in the mountains?¡±


    He had barely finished the sentence when he noticed the expression on Greg¡¯s face.


    ¡°Let me guess. He¡¯s standing right behind me.¡±


    ¡°Can you please just say what happened,¡± Greg said, his voice strangely toneless and terse at the same time.


    Nathan nodded slowly. ¡°Ragna told us in the middle of the night that a Rot-queen was on the move towards Calder¡¯s camp. So she went that way to help. A little while later, we realized that Oli had left the camp as well and not come back. We reasoned that a second Rot-queen would be huge trouble ¨C¡°


    ¡°Third Rot-queen,¡± Greg corrected.


    ¡°Yes, well, we didn¡¯t know there were two of them. If Ragna knew, she never mentioned it. So Eyal and Digger gave me all the magic protection their crews had been able to afford and sent me to bring him back.¡±


    ¡°Alive?¡± Greg asked, still in that same weird tone.


    Probably a question of Pierre¡¯s, then.


    Nathan glanced over his shoulder at the old werewolf, who was staring intently at him. ¡°If at all possible, yes.¡±


    ¡°Yet you shot him.¡±


    ¡°Yes. By the time I got there, the Rot-queen had grabbed him. Literally. Two trees had caged him in, kept him completely pinned, and the queen tried to dunk his face in this weird, bubbling water it was standing in. Oli was struggling, but it was just a matter of time until he would have had to drink whatever the queen was trying to feed him. So I took a risk and shot him in the shoulder. I did not mean to kill him. I could have. Easily. He couldn¡¯t move and I don¡¯t miss a target from twenty feet away, you know that, Greg. But I hope he¡¯ll be all right.¡±


    ¡°And then the queen let you go?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°Just like that?¡±


    Nathan shook his head. ¡°The queen ¨C it can ¨C read minds? Memories, I guess? It didn¡¯t kill me right away, instead it ¨C looked at me. But not just at my face, but at every single memory I have of shooting a werewolf. All the way back to when I was a kid and learned to shoot. I think it assumed I had indeed killed Oli, or that I was going to finish the job, and apparently, it didn¡¯t mind? So it left me to it. Just walked away.¡±


    ¡°Probably thought it was being clever,¡± Greg said, his eyes locked on Pierre¡¯s face. ¡°That¡¯s Rot-queens for you. They don¡¯t care if they kill or corrupt us.¡±


    ¡°It told me where I could find Ragna, too,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Pretty sure it wanted me to go after her. It even let me know that there was a second Rot-queen while it did.¡±


    Pierre nodded, while Greg repeated: ¡°That fits what I have learned of Rot-queens. Though I¡¯ve never heard of them using humans to do their dirty work.¡±


    With that, the elder padded off stiffly. Greg hurried after him, and half a dozen wolves followed them towards the Inn.

 Chapter 107

    Digger took Pierre¡¯s place, holding out his hands for the helmet Andrew had placed underneath the table on his lap.


    ¡°Can I have that back now?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Sure. Thank you, the stuff worked great.¡± Still, Nathan was very glad to give it all back. All those amulets were heavy! Digger didn¡¯t seem to find the bundle too cumbersome when he took it to a presumably safe place.


    Then it was suddenly just Nathan and Andrew. Sitting on a table in the cold spring evening. At least it was dry.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± Nathan asked again, with a look at the destroyed camp. It was a small miracle that the kitchen had somehow survived, and apparently enough of the supplies that people could get some hot food. Nearly everything else was in ruins. There were two huge, but half destroyed clay figures not far away, and two others, still upright, stood motionless besides the community building with its gaping holes in the walls. It still had a roof, though, so that was where the injured had been put up.


    ¡°What are those things? The clay-figures?¡± Nathan added, because Andrew didn¡¯t answer right away.


    ¡°Isaac called them golems. Mr. Kohen animated them somehow and ordered them to defend the big communal hall. The Rot doesn¡¯t affect them and they¡¯re big enough to rip a brute to pieces. Still, there was an army ¨C like Oldstone castle. When the Rot-queens showed up, they turned all the creepers into brutes, just like Ragna said, and the golems couldn¡¯t be everywhere at once. We hid inside, holding onto each other ¨C the queens kept getting into our heads, trying to make us open the doors to let them in. Never got all of us at the same time, luckily. We barely managed to keep things together long enough for Morgulon to arrive. By that point, the wall¡¯s were holey as cheese, but with Morgulon close by, we could fight back.


    She waited until the new pack got here, and then attacked. I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s been some kind of communication between Morgulon and Greg¡¯s new friends, but somehow they showed up here within a few hours.¡±


    ¡°Must have sensed each other, right? David did say it gets stronger as they age, so I bet Morgulon knew that Greg had recruited Pierre before they even left the Crucible Ridge.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Andrew said. ¡°I wish she¡¯d have mentioned something.¡±


    ¡°When does she ever volunteer information? We should have asked.¡±


    ¡°True.¡±


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Andrew laughed, a hollow, unhappy sound. ¡°Am I okay? I didn¡¯t go face to face with a Rot-queen.¡±


    ¡°You look like crap, though. I mean, even more than usual. Asides, what¡¯s a Rot-queen going to do to me, drive me crazy? Too late.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not funny.¡±


    ¡°Sure it is. We survived.¡±


    ¡°How many more times, Nathan? Fuck, this is why I wanted to quit. I can¡¯t ¨C I hate this, Nathan. All of it.¡± Andrew¡¯s hand on the table was shaking slightly.


    ¡°Which is why you¡¯re generally considered the smart one amongst us.¡± Nathan shrugged.


    Where was Greg when you needed him? He was bad at this whole talking people off a ledge thing. Or dealing with delayed panic attacks. That was David¡¯s job. Unless David was the one who got the shakes hours after it was all over, in which case he usually holed up somewhere until Andrew went to find him. Or they sent Greg to talk about random stuff nobody gave a damn about until it stopped.


    ¡°You can quit, you know that?¡± Nathan tried.


    Andrew just scoffed. ¡°Right. Sure. Quit. Stand back while you all risk your lives.¡±


    Nathan at least knew enough not to point out that that had been Andrew¡¯s plan before this mess.


    ¡°Tell me you¡¯re really okay,¡± Andrew repeated.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me walk for a week and yes, I promise I¡¯ll be fine. If you don¡¯t trust me, trust the werewolves: Morgulon and Ragna smelled the Rot on Oli, I swear. They washed him down with their tongues until they were sure he was free of it, but they never even glanced at me. And Morgulon did carry me back. Speaking of the devil.¡±


    Lane and Morgulon were approaching their table, Lane with two bowls of food, Morgulon with a large piece of cured beef. Lane put the bowls down, one in front of Andrew, the other in front of Nathan, before she took a seat. Spoons stuck out of a thick stew.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you still aren¡¯t eating,¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°I like to finish what I started,¡± Lane shrugged. ¡°People will be up until midnight, I¡¯ll have something then.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± Nathan lied, and dug in. Morgulon did, too, but Andrew asked her:


    ¡°Nathan said you guys can smell the Rot¡¯s influence on someone?¡±


    Morgulon nodded, chewing industriously. Andrew looked like he wanted to ask more, but then he reached for his spoon and finally started eating. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°Thank you for your help. I should have said that earlier.¡±


    Morgulon shrugged.


    ¡°She says you¡¯re welcome,¡± an old man said. He had stopped a couple of yards behind Morgulon. Nathan needed a moment to realize that this had to be Pierre. He really was old, his beard completely white and only his hair still with a little black in it. He wore a very simple white robe that hung down to his naked feet. Greg hovered behind him with two bowls of food, like some kind of retainer, while Ragna walked around Morgulon and up to the long bench, her own bowl of food in hand.


    ¡°Mind if we sit?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Andrew said.


    So Ragna did, right next to Lane. Pierre watched her until she started eating, too, before he finally followed her example. He left room for Greg to slide into, though, so he wouldn¡¯t sit right next to Andrew. Greg looked tense.


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    ¡°Pierre,¡± Ragna broke the silence that settled over the table. ¡°It¡¯s not fair to put that kind of stress on the kid. This is his family.¡±


    The old guy glared at Ragna, who didn¡¯t appear impressed. Morgulon barked softly, and he closed his eyes and massaged his brows, and Nathan thought he took a deep, deliberate breath.


    ¡°Apologies, Greg,¡± he said finally and turned to his food.


    Greg gasped, surprised, and took a few deep breaths. He suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. What ¨C had Pierre been doing something to him?


    His brothers were both looking at him, Nathan with a curious, Andrew with a worried expression.


    ¡°We¡¯d like to hear how your journey has gone,¡± Andrew said after a few seconds. ¡°I mean, it was obviously successful, and much more so than David ever dared to hope, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Greg nodded slowly. He felt shy suddenly, surrounded by the three elders. ¡°It ¨C well, it ended better than it started,¡± he said.


    ¡°Is Lee all right?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes. He went with another member of Pierre¡¯s pack, they¡¯ll go up north, way beyond Mannin. They¡¯ll aim for King¡¯s Haven and hopefully gather another pack of people willing to help.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°How did you get hurt?¡±


    Greg shrugged, and inwardly prepared for Andrew¡¯s mother-henning. ¡°We ran into a pack that ¨C well, they attacked us. Because we came from here. From human lands.¡±


    Who? Morgulon interrupted.


    ¡°Adelaide and pack.¡±


    ¡°They moved further west when Greg and Lee escaped,¡± Pierre informed her.


    Morgulon considered that. How did Lee escape?


    ¡°I, uh, I attacked Adelaide. Pinned her to the ground until Lee had run. I bit her a little, cause I hoped they would worry about her rather than follow us. Didn¡¯t work, though. They caught up with us and almost killed us. Pierre stopped them at literally the last moment.¡±


    ¡°I was nearly too late,¡± Pierre elaborated. ¡°They ripped open his throat, and broke his foot, too.¡±


    Andrew and Nathan looked startled, staring at Greg.


    ¡°They what?¡± Nathan snapped.


    Greg raised his head carefully, just enough to present the mangled lines of still pink scar tissue underneath his chin.


    His brothers both cursed.


    ¡°How long did that take to heal?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Two full moons. We got moving as soon as I could walk properly again. My foot is still a bit sore. That¡¯s why it¡¯s mostly Lee looking for others. I basically spent the last months lying in a cavern.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± Andrew muttered. ¡°How much danger is Lee going to be in?¡±


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯ll be fine,¡± Pierre reassured them. ¡°Edith should be enough to keep him safe from anything but a Rot-queen. And she¡¯ll note one of those early enough to avoid it.¡±


    ¡°Mind if I ask how old she is?¡± Lane wanted know.


    Pierre looked over his shoulder to where his pack and the other newcomers had gathered around a table, warily eying the surroundings. ¡°Why do you want to know?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to pass that on,¡± Lane explained. ¡°To David Feleke, who is in charge of all werewolves in Loegrion. He¡¯ll need to know how old you all are, so he¡¯ll be able to deploy you against the Rot efficiently.¡±


    Pierre considered that. ¡°Edith is sixteen.¡±


    Greg looked from Lane to his brothers, trying to read their faces. Why were they even here, at this construction site? How was the war going? Where they winning? Losing?


    ¡°All this is very good news,¡± Nathan interrupted his thoughts. ¡°David will be thrilled to hear about all of you.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Lane said. ¡°We should send a message as soon as the telegraph is back in order.¡±


    ¡°Ha, we might walk there faster than that!¡± Nathan joked. ¡°Even with my bad leg.¡±


    ¡°Where is David?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Deva, dealing with the paperwork and the politics regarding werewolves.¡±


    ¡°The Relentless. Dealing with paperwork instead of hunting werewolves?¡± Pierre shook his head. ¡°Hard to believe that. What sort of paperwork?¡±


    Andrew shrugged. ¡°Reading reports and compiling lists, mostly. There are werewolves stationed all along the coast, and he¡¯s supposed to keep track of all of them. Each garrison or village that is reinforced in that way is supposed to report in regularly.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°So we can learn what works and what doesn¡¯t. Since he¡¯s in charge of the werewolf-forces, David¡¯s also considered the authority on how to fight the Rot most efficiently. So he¡¯s got all kinds of people sending him reports, even scientists. Rust¡¯s group has a werewolf writing about their progress, too.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Where is Rust?¡±


    ¡°Cleansing the Stour.¡±


    ¡°Did David say where we¡¯ll get stationed?¡± Greg asked. He hoped it wouldn¡¯t be some village in the middle of nowhere.


    ¡°Well, he had no idea we¡¯d meet you here,¡± Nathan pointed out. ¡°David had just sent us to First Camp to check everything was all right, then Neville told us there was something moving in the forest. And here we are.¡±


    ¡°I bet you¡¯ll go straight to Deva,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°What? No way!¡± Greg stared at her. ¡°They¡¯ll never ¨C you really think so?¡±


    ¡°Pierre is the most powerful elder besides the Morgulon,¡± Lane pointed out. ¡°So David will need to place him somewhere central. Deva has the most railway connections besides Eoforwic. Morgulon¡¯s already at Brines, so Deva is only logical.¡±


    ¡°Sun, I hope you¡¯re right,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°That would be awesome.¡±


    But it probably wouldn¡¯t be Deva itself, would it? Duke George Louis wouldn¡¯t want them in the city itself. Just like Morgulon wasn¡¯t really living in Eoforwic.


    Maybe a nice little village, with a railway station. That wouldn¡¯t be too bad? Someplace with a proper roof above their head. Mr. Higgins would be able to visit him there, and Gustave, too. Provided he wanted to.


    If he was even allowed to stay with Pierre. David had said that he tried to let packs stay together, but would he be counted as a member? And Pierre¡¯s pack was so big. Five elders? David might have to separate them.


    Or perhaps David would allow him to actually chose now what he wanted to do next. If so, where would he want to go? Would Thoko be willing to go to Deva with him?


    ¡°Greg?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Andrew, yes?¡±


    ¡°I was just asking if you want seconds.¡±


    Greg nodded and pushed his bowl over as Andrew got up. When he returned, Isaac was following him, and then Eyal sat down, too, to talk to Pierre about where the pack could sleep tonight with so many barracks destroyed.


    ¡°Will you stay here?¡± Andrew asked.


    Eyal nodded. ¡°We have sent messengers across the river. The roadhouse on the northern shore hasn¡¯t been attacked, and they¡¯ve passed on everything that happened here via telegraph. The section of tracks between them and Mannin is nearly finished, so we should have help from the city as soon as the sun is fully up. Hopefully, they¡¯ll have healers or doctors for us. Medical supplies. Materials to repair the walls will take longer, and we don¡¯t know how much more men they can hire, especially if word gets out of what happened here. Would you be willing to stay for a few days, Pierre, until we can secure the camp again and transport the wounded?¡±


    Pierre shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t see why we couldn¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°It might not be a bad idea for us to take a little time to get used again to ¨C people. Morgulon doesn¡¯t want to stay, though.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s understandable,¡± Eyal said. ¡°And if the rest of you guys stay, I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll be an issue.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll message David as soon as possible,¡± Andrew promised.


    ¡°How ¨C how bad was it?¡± Greg asked softly. ¡°How many ¨C dead?¡±


    Eyal sighed. ¡°We¡¯ll have to wait and see who survives the night,¡± he said. ¡°We have ¨C let¡¯s see... Eighteen missing, I fear we have to presume them dead. And we found twenty-one bodies in the wreckage so far, and a lot, a lot of bad injuries. Anshel lost an eye, and Randal and Dicun are both in a bad state. Mendel. And I think you know Harold, too? He¡¯s ¨C¡° Eyal shook his head. ¡°It¡¯ll take a miracle for him to survive,¡± he said quietly.


    Greg followed Isaac to the large building in the centre of the camp, where most of the fighting had happened and which now served as an infirmary. A lot of navvies had gathered here, and the man named Mr. Kohen stood at the lectern, praying with some of the other Wayfarers. Anshel was awake and actually thanked Greg, and then some of the other injured did, too. It was too much for him, especially since all he had done was get jumped by the Rot-queen, forcing Gertrude to save him.


    She was there, together with Alister, second oldest of Pierre¡¯s pack since Ragna had left. They moved around in their wolf-bodies to make sure that no Rot could infest the wounds.


    Since he couldn¡¯t really help, Greg left again, too wired to sleep, too tired to really do anything. He and Isaac ended up sitting on Isaac¡¯s bed, which afforded them a great view of the camp since one wall had collapsed. Greg told his friend about everything that had happened in the mountains, and Isaac finally told him the details about the battle and the other things he had missed while he had been gone.

 Chapter 108

    Greg turned back into his wolf-shape when the rain started up again. Sleeping on the floor was just more annoying as a human. There weren¡¯t enough beds left in the camp that still had a roof above them, even with so many workers laying injured in the big hall. He curled up between Andrew¡¯s and Nathan¡¯s cots, in a part of the coaching inn that was still structurally sound. Both had offered him to trade, and he had declined. One more night wouldn¡¯t kill him.


    And he was out of the weather, so really, what was he complaining about?


    He even had a rug to rest on. Most of the other werewolves had decided to sleep outside, some even outside the camp.


    In the middle of the night, a soldier knocked on the door, waking them all up. Apparently, the engineers had laboured without rest to get the telegraph reconnected. Andrew grumbled but got up and Greg padded after him. They got there just as a flurry of messages came in. The other camps, the company, Eoforwic, Mannin, and David all wanted to know what had happened and if the danger was past.


    Greg didn¡¯t envy the very young ensign ¨C hardly more than a boy ¨C who was standing in for the camp¡¯s injured lieutenant.


    As soon as the young man confirmed that the Rot had been defeated and the camp was secured by a dozen elders, Mannin and Eoforwic promised to send aid, and then a little while later, the company promised to send workers, tools and materials to rebuild the camp as quickly as possible.


    It wasn¡¯t even lunchtime yet when the soldier up on the single surviving watchtower blew his horn. The first reinforcements from Mannin had nearly reached the bridge. Half an hour later, a dozen healers and doctors and nearly thirty nuns and servants with their burdens descended on the hall where the injured lay. Greg hadn¡¯t gone near the place again, but through the holes in the wall, he saw Audenne follow Pierre around. The two elderly men were talking animatedly while Pierre¡¯s presence ensured that even the greatest magic the healers might use wouldn¡¯t lead to any unfortunate incidents. Oli was somewhere in there, too, with Anthony to keep him company.


    The rest of the pack was patrolling outside of the camp.


    David had asked for a longer report than the short message Andrew had already sent in the night. So Lane, Andrew, and Nathan were brooding over how to best put everything that had happened in writing, to be sent with the first mail coach braving the journey. Greg lazily rested his head on his arms, offering his improvements on their text, until Nathan pointed out: ¡°You know, smartarse, I bet David will want one from you as well.¡±


    Greg glanced at him without raising his head. ¡°Got a pen?¡± he asked.


    DeLande offered him one. She had paper to spare, too. Apparently, she hadn¡¯t been surprised by David¡¯s request. Greg yawned again but reached for the pen and moved the paper around until he found a place on the rough table where he could actually write.


    He was done before the other three and went back to dozing with his head on his arms.


    He probably should have offered his help to the two dozen navvies who did their best with the wood they had at hand to repair the barracks, but he couldn¡¯t muster the energy. His foot was sore, and in addition to his own pain, he was weighted down by Pierre¡¯s and Morgulon¡¯s exhaustion. He hadn¡¯t realized yesterday in the midst of all the excitement just how much it had taken out of them. He could feel a faint echo of Pierre¡¯s aching joints every time he moved himself.


    ¡°Being old sucks,¡± Greg grumbled the next time he felt a sudden pain that didn¡¯t originate in his own back.


    ¡°Like you would know,¡± Andrew said archly.


    ¡°I get to enjoy it with Pierre.¡±


    ¡°Generous of him to share that,¡± Nathan noted.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think he can help it. I can feel some of Morgulon¡¯s exhaustion, too. It¡¯s not as ¨C pronounced. I think it¡¯s because I didn¡¯t run around the Argentum Formation with her for the past four months.¡±


    ¡°Is she okay?¡± Lane asked immediately. ¡°I had expected that she would be on her way back by now.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s resting,¡± Greg reported. ¡°You know her, she never just offers anything concrete. But yeah, she¡¯ll go back to the ¨C to our cubs soon.¡±


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    What a weird thing to say.


    He should go with her. He wanted to go, too. But as soon as he even tried thinking about leaving Pierre and the pack behind, he felt Pierre¡¯s command to stay close intensify. It was almost funny: the elder was terrified at the prospect of Greg abandoning them amidst all these humans.


    Maybe he should appeal to Morgulon to take him with her?


    ¡°What¡¯s our plan, anyway?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°I mean, we were supposed to arrive in Deva yesterday.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll want to return to Brines with Morgulon?¡± Andrew asked, looking at Lane. When she nodded, he went on: ¡°I think it¡¯s best if we stay here while the pack does. Unless you want to get going too, Nathan?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Nathan said, grimacing. ¡°I¡¯m not too eager to get back into the saddle right now, to tell you the truth. Or even on a train.¡±


    Greg closed his eyes. The weather had finally changed, and the sunshine was warming his back. Nathan hobbled around the table, leaning heavily onto his spear, and sat down next to Greg, but with his back towards the table, resting against it so the light fell into his face. He only angled his hat so it covered his eyes. Greg first thought he had fallen asleep, until he noticed the way Nathan clenched his jaws and clutched the knee of his bad leg with his hand.


    They all watched on in silence as Mr. Kohen marched the two remaining golems out of the camp, followed by Rhuad. Greg saw them walk towards the river, where they vanished in the valley. Not much later, Rhuad and Mr. Kohen returned alone.


    After lunch, Nathan grabbed his spear and hobbled over to the hall, to talk to the doctors there. Afterwards, he retreated to the room he and Andrew shared at the inn.


    ¡°Is Nathan all right?¡± Greg asked when he didn¡¯t come back.


    ¡°I reckon his foot hurts again,¡± Andrew said and explained the new problems Nathan was facing.


    A few hours later, three more figures crossed the bridge, carrying big boxes between them. Journalists. They set up a camera close to the destroyed barracks and started taking pictures of the ruins and the Rot-husks that hadn¡¯t been cleared up yet. The navvies eyed them with distrust, but they didn¡¯t really bother people, so Eyal and Digger left them to it.


    When the shadows grew long and the temperature dropped abruptly, navvies, soldiers, engineers, and werewolves came together in the centre of the camp. Pierre got a big bonfire going, burning the lifeless husks of the Rot-brutes. The proprietor of the coaching inn had rolled out a whole barrel of beer, and werewolves and humans alike could come for refills without having to worry about money. It wasn¡¯t exactly a celebration ¨C too many men were still fighting for their lives. But the crew was breathing easier and the werewolves were readily coming back into the camp and even mingling a little. Pierre was still talking to Audenne, and Laurent had joined their table. Digger had approached R¨¦my and managed to strike up a conversation.


    ¡°Mind if I sit down?¡± Eyal asked.


    ¡°Sure. Anything we can help you guys with?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°Well ¨C I hope you can,¡± Eyal said slowly, sitting down. He rubbed his large hands together thoughtfully. He looked at Greg first, but then turned to Andrew: ¡°Your brother, Lord David, he¡¯s got the duke¡¯s ear, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°George Louis will listen to him, usually. Not necessarily heed his advice.¡±


    ¡°Would he speak to the duke for us? For our crew, I mean.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he will,¡± Greg said, straightening up. ¡°Why? Is there a problem?¡±


    ¡°Not a problem exactly.¡± Eyal looked around the camp. ¡°It¡¯s about the reward. You know, the land grant?¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Well, we were supposed to get land up north of Mannin, but we were wondering ¨C if your brother would be willing to speak for us ¨C perhaps the duke would grant us this camp ¨C or parts of it ¨C and some of the surrounding lands.¡±


    ¡°You want this place?¡± Greg echoed. He glanced around at all the destroyed buildings. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s already a jetty in place from where we receive materials for the building site,¡± Eyal pointed out. ¡°There¡¯ll be a railway station here, and a branch off towards Slopes is just a matter of time. Once the river is cleansed, we can get fish from there. Good soil, too. We can be self-sufficient here, while still having access to Mannin and Eoforwic within an hour.¡±


    ¡°I see your point,¡± Andrew said. ¡°I¡¯ll contact David. I can¡¯t promise anything, of course.¡±


    ¡°No, we know that. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Digger and his men aren¡¯t supposed to know?¡± Greg noted.


    ¡°They were promised gold,¡± Eyal said, a little uncomfortable. ¡°Plenty of gold, but still. No point in creating strive when we¡¯re nearly done, right? On the other hand, we wanted to get this request out before the line is finished and we get plots somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°The line will be finished soon, then?¡± Greg asked.


    Eyal nodded. ¡°Hopefully. The bit between here and Mannin would be done already if we had another elder to protect those crews, too. With the new pack here, they¡¯ll likely make a push to get it done. The Loir bridge should be finished within the next few days, too. That leaves this bridge, and two smaller bridges between here and First Camp. I think work stopped while the Rot-queens were about. How fast they can be finished, I do not know.¡±


    He looked around again. ¡°We¡¯ll stick it out to the end, I think we¡¯ve proven that much to His Grace, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Greg nodded, and so did Andrew, though more slowly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m worried that it won¡¯t be enough,¡± Andrew said. ¡°George Louis ¨C has abandoned allies before when he felt it was more convenient.¡±


    But then he shook his head. ¡°No, you guys will get your reward. He¡¯s promising too much to too many powerful people, if there was even the slightest doubt he won¡¯t keep his word... He won¡¯t risk that. However, he may see this as you asking for more than initially agreed, and I have no idea if he¡¯d be willing to negotiate. I¡¯ll ask David, though.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll need it in writing. Which lands will be ours, to pass on to our children, and that we¡¯ll be free to worship our God here as we see fit.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Andrew agreed.

 Chapter 109

    Eyal had been right about one thing: Early the next morning, there was a telegram requesting an elder to meet and protect the huge crew that had been pushing to finish the tracks between Mannin and the Savre until Ragna¡¯s and Neville¡¯s warning about the Rot-queen had interrupted work. Gertrude was happy to go, as long as Pierre stayed close by. Morgulon and Lane set out to return to Brines a little later, and in the afternoon, a ship arrived at the makeshift little harbour, carrying building materials from Mannin and a dozen carpenters who had been bribed into helping out, so the camp couldn¡¯t just be rebuilt but made better. Bigger, too.


    Greg wondered what the point of extending the camp was, until Andrew and Nathan told him about the enterprising merchants at First Camp. And indeed, the next day, a group of men from Eoforwic arrived with the mail coach. Two of them dragged huge crates into camp and quickly began to set up a rickety little stall. The rest of them appeared to be more journalists.


    Andrew sauntered over to the two merchants, Greg trailing after him, curious about all this. He had thought them to be peddlers, but their suits were too nice for that on a closer look. Their faces were similar enough that they were likely father and son.


    ¡°Lord Feleke!¡± the older of the two greeted Andrew excitedly. ¡°I am so glad to see you are alive and well! I hope that your brother and Lady deLande fare the same?¡±


    ¡°They do, thank you. Greg, this is Mr. Stokes, a merchant from Eoforwic, and his son.¡± Greg eyed the strangers uncertainly, but Andrew already went on: ¡°Lady deLande returned to Eoforwic yesterday. Nathan is out. May I introduce you to my other brother: Gregory Feleke.¡±


    Greg offered his hand, a bit hesitant. He saw equal hesitation in the other man¡¯s face. He did shake Greg¡¯s hand though.


    ¡°The ¨C ah...¡±


    ¡°Werewolf, yes,¡± Greg said. He tried to sound nonchalant about it, but his heart beat faster.


    The younger man who had been arranging the display of wares froze. Greg avoided his stare by looking down at the variety of small luxuries he¡¯d been organizing: little tin boxes of nice tea, sweets that kept, tobacco from the very south of Loegrion. Some nice handkerchiefs, a well-made pocket watch in a place of honour. Two big bound books with ¡°Jones & Stokes illustrated catalogue of merchandise¡± written on the cover were placed to the right and the left.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure!¡± the older man recovered. Greg thought he kicked his son, and went on: ¡°Your arrival was all the talk at First Camp, milord! We heard you got here just in the nick of time, or there would have been a disaster.¡±


    ¡°Quite true,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Which is why I¡¯m surprised to see you here?¡°


    ¡°Oh, well, have to get our foot in the door, don¡¯t we? We weren¡¯t quite certain before if this camp was quite safe, what with the Savre right there. But then we heard that there¡¯s now a proper pack here, and two of these ¨C Rot-queens ¨C killed! We had never even heard of such creatures before! The folks at First Camp explained some about it, and we thought to ourselves, a force of werewolves capable of dealing with that, how much safer can a place be?¡± Mr. Stokes looked around. ¡°I have no doubts other merchants will hear about this and think similar, and this camp isn¡¯t really big enough to support much competition. So Oswin and I headed out with the first coach that left from First Camp.¡±


    ¡°In that case, we don¡¯t want to keep you,¡± Andrew said. ¡°I think you have your first customers.¡±


    There were a few off-duty soldiers hanging back, watching the ramshackle booth with interest. One of them was jiggling a small bag of coins. When Andrew and Greg stepped away, one of them exclaimed: ¡°Finally! Something other than grub!¡±


    Andrew smiled. ¡°They¡¯ll make good business, I bet.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like it,¡± Greg said. ¡°But, uh, Andrew, I think you need to look at what¡¯s happening over there.¡±


    He pointed at the bit of wall that had survived. All wolves in the vicinity were headed there, very unhappy about something.


    ¡°Lead the way,¡± Andrew sighed.


    As soon as they rounded what was left of the wall, it wasn¡¯t hard to spot what was going on: The three recently arrived journalists had found Pierre, who had been sitting in a sunny spot underneath the remaining watch tower. Greg could tell across the distance that one of the men with the notebooks was decked out in a lot more silver than even David ever carried.


    Greg hoped the man was just worried about the Rot.


    The pack and half the other wolves around, however, were ready to jump the stranger. Pierre had both his hands pressed to the grounds, in case he needed to transform in a hurry to defend himself.


    Before Greg could say anything, Andrew broke into a jog. ¡°Gentlemen, good day,¡± he called out. ¡°And to you, too, Romain. The hell are you doing here?¡±


    The journalist wearing all the silver spun around. ¡°What are you doing here, Feleke, coddling those monsters?¡±


    The man pulled a knife out of the sheath at his hips, but was stopped by a voice: ¡°I wouldn¡¯t, Romain.¡±


    Up on the watch tower, there was Nathan, crossbow trained on the false journalist. ¡°Drop it!¡±


    Andrew closed the distance before Pierre managed to get to his feet, still human-looking. The two actual journalists stared.


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    Romain glared up at Nathan, but dropped the knife. ¡°How did you know?¡± he spat out.


    ¡°We¡¯re just that good,¡± Andrew replied. ¡°No sudden moves, you know Nathan¡¯s light on the trigger.¡±


    He started to disarm the would-be assassin. Pierre stumbled as he hastily tried to put more distance between himself and the two additional silver knives Andrew just dropped to the ground.


    ¡°What¡¯s this? Silver dust?¡± Andrew asked, opening a small bag from Romain¡¯s belt. ¡°How much did the Church pay you for this?¡±


    ¡°I do not need payment,¡± Romain hissed, ¡°to kill monsters! I know my sacred duty!¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s just stupid,¡± Andrew shrugged. ¡°Duty or not, you might as well have made some money for your kids.¡±


    He shook his head, patting down all the guy¡¯s clothes. ¡°Right, I think I got it all.¡±


    He backed off and grabbed one of the silver knives, held it to the guys throat. ¡°All right, Nathan, get down here. Take him to the officer in charge.¡±


    ¡°On my way,¡± Nathan called back.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± one of the journalists asked. He had his notebook ready and a pencil in hand. Both of them began scribbling as soon as Andrew started talking:


    ¡°This man here is Romain Allard, werewolf hunter affiliated with the Church,¡± he explained. ¡°And I think this,¡± he kicked the bag of silver dust, ¡°qualifies as attempted murder.¡±


    He kept his eyes on Allard, until Nathan came around the wall, followed by a soldier. The soldier grabbed the hunter by the arm, and Nathan followed, holding his spear in both hands.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he ordered.


    ¡°Attempted murder?¡± a journalist prompted.


    ¡°Obviously, yes,¡± Andrew gave back. ¡°There is no warrant in place for Pierre, and certainly no Crown Warrant.¡±


    ¡°How can you be certain?¡±


    ¡°Is that a serious question?¡± Greg grumbled.


    ¡°Just something our readers would like to know.¡±


    Andrew rubbed his chin, eying the two of them. But he explained: ¡°Pierre came with my brother Gregory here from the Argentum Formation three days ago and he hasn¡¯t been to Loegrion for several decades. He helped save this camp, and anyone in it. Finally, my brother, Lord David Feleke is one of the very few people who can currently issue a Crown Warrant on a werewolf. He would have mentioned if there was one on this pack.¡±


    ¡°What will happen to the ¨C the hunter that was arrested?¡± the other journalist asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s up to the officer in charge. Most likely, he¡¯ll be placed under guard and taken to a better fortified camp,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Or Mannin directly, where he will be brought to justice.¡±


    Pierre looked back and forth between Andrew and the journalists, then walked away. Greg felt compelled to hurry after him, and as soon as they were out of earshot, Pierre asked: ¡°How did your brother know? You were inside the camp!¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°You all felt the silver on him, I noticed that the others were getting worried, and Andrew went with me to investigate. He just recognized the guy as a fellow hunter. I had no idea Nathan was up on the tower, but he does like to climb stuff, so it shouldn¡¯t have surprised me.¡±


    Pierre shuddered. ¡°I should have gone for the bastard¡¯s throat as soon as I sensed the silver.¡±


    The old man let himself sink onto a tree stump. The pack surrounded him right away, most of them in their wolf shapes, still ready for a fight. Alister rubbed his huge head against Pierre¡¯s shoulder who absentmindedly buried his hand in the wolf¡¯s mane.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s lucky you didn¡¯t,¡± Greg said quietly. ¡°If you had, some jackass might have argued ¡®unprovoked¡¯ werewolf attack. Now it¡¯s all nice and official, with a couple of witnesses, too.¡±


    ¡°This happen a lot?¡± R¨¦my asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s been illegal to hunt werewolves for less than a year, and most of that time I was running around the mountains. I can ask my brothers. David would know for certain.¡±


    ¡°And ¨C your brothers are really here to protect us?¡± Estelle asked.


    ¡°Crazy,¡± Pierre muttered. ¡°To have a Feleke... unbelievable.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a Feleke,¡± Greg muttered, but Pierre ignored him.


    R¨¦my grinned, uneasily. ¡°I mean, it seems to be working, doesn¡¯t it? I mean, they were right there.¡±


    ¡°Is that supposed to reassure me?¡± Pierre snapped. ¡°That Fleetfoot Feleke had been standing right above me the whole time with a loaded crossbow?¡±


    ¡°Nathan just likes climbing things,¡± Greg said again, but Pierre didn¡¯t look mollified in the slightest.


    ¡°You were the one to lead us here,¡± R¨¦my pointed out.


    Pierre glared at him, but he admitted: ¡°True. I just hoped we¡¯d make it into a city before the silver daggers come out.¡±


    Greg grimaced. Mostly because he agreed. He hadn¡¯t expected this. Hadn¡¯t thought they would still have to worry about hunters. He had really thought they¡¯d be ¨C well, not safe. But not in danger from that angle.


    The wolves standing around all turned towards the camp. Nathan raised his hands, and stopped just within talking distance. ¡°You guys are all right?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯ve handed the bastard over to the camp¡¯s guards. They¡¯ll keep him under watch until he can be carted off to Mannin.¡±


    ¡°And then what happens to him?¡±


    Nathan ran a hand through his locks. ¡°Well, the new law states that anyone who kills a werewolf without a Crown Warrant committed murder, with all that entails. I¡¯m not a lawyer, I don¡¯t know how the judge in Mannin will handle this case, since he technically didn¡¯t kill anyone. Duke George Louis already sent more soldiers to strengthen the garrison here. Should be here tomorrow, it will be part of their job to ensure your safety.¡±


    Greg wasn¡¯t certain how reassuring that was for the others. He was just glad that Nathan and Andrew were hanging around. At least until David wanted them elsewhere.


    ¡°Andrew also asked the journalists not to bother you guys uninvited,¡± Nathan added. ¡°They can ask Greg first if they want to talk to you. That¡¯s not a law, though, we can only ask them. They¡¯re a bit shaken after what just happened, so I think these two will stick to it. Others might not. There is obviously a lot of interest in what happened here and more journalists are on the way.¡±


    The pack milled about at the forest edge a little longer, but they did go back when it was time for lunch. As soon as those currently human sat down with their plates ¨C it was still al fresco dining ¨C and the wolves settled around to chew on some bones, the two journalists from earlier approached the group. They looked around until they settled on Greg.


    ¡°Gregory Feleke?¡± one of the asked. ¡°Mulley is the name, I should have introduced myself earlier.¡±


    He offered his hand, and Greg shook it.


    ¡°Dawson,¡± the other man quickly jumped in. ¡°Eoforwic Tribunal. Your brothers asked that we talk to you about interviews?¡±


    Thanks, guys, Greg thought. Aloud he said: ¡°You want to talk to someone specific?¡±


    ¡°All of you, ideally,¡± Dawson said.


    Mulley nodded eagerly.


    ¡°Right.¡± Greg shuddered. He glanced at Alister, who hadn¡¯t turned human since new moon, at Annabelle, who did sometimes turn human but barely talked. She shook her head at him immediately.


    ¡°Thank you for your interest,¡± Greg said out loud. ¡°We¡¯ll discuss your request. I could come over to you after lunch?¡±


    The two men nodded slowly. ¡°There are other journalists here,¡± Mulley said. ¡°We only ask ¨C¡°


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk to you first, yes.¡±


    To Greg¡¯ relief, the reporters walked away with that promise.


    ¡°Anyone want to go first?¡± R¨¦my asked. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind. Unless you want, Pierre?¡±


    ¡°Not particularly. Just let Greg iron out the details.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve done this before?¡± R¨¦my promptly asked. ¡°Given interviews?¡±


    Greg shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s usually Andrew, or my Father. And I¡¯ve seen it happen at court, too, a few times.¡±

 Chapter 110

    Greg tugged at his sleeves as he walked over to talk to the two reporters. Thanks to the Rot, he was once again wearing his brother¡¯s clothes: Nathan¡¯s this time. Apparently, he had lost weight in the mountains. He¡¯d cropped his hair back last night, too, and shaved properly, so he at least felt decently confident in his appearance.


    ¡°Ah, Mr. Feleke, we¡¯re very grateful for this opportunity,¡± Dawson started. ¡°Should we talk here?¡±


    Greg bristled a little at the address. He was not a ¡°Mr,¡± and he wondered if he should insist on this. If he didn¡¯t ¨C this article was sure to spread, wasn¡¯t it? He either claimed the title now or let it go forever.


    ¡°It¡¯s Lord Feleke, actually,¡± he said out loud. ¡°My father is Baron Abraham Feleke of Courtenay, my mother is Imani of Matlia, daughter of the Balambaras of the province of the same name. The fact that I was bitten doesn¡¯t change that, does it?¡±


    For a second, there was consternation on their faces, but neither of them argued.


    ¡°Well said,¡± Mulley claimed instead. ¡°And our apologies, your Lordship. We meant no offence. Please, have a seat. Would you be willing to talk about how you became a werewolf?¡±


    Greg did sit, digging the nail of his index finger into the skin of his thumb to stop his hands from shaking.


    ¡°First things first,¡± he said. ¡°We are offering quite a lot here, aren¡¯t we? How many exclusive interviews have there been with werewolves who have been ¨C afflicted for longer than the new laws have been in place?¡±


    ¡°Not many,¡± Mulley said, at the same time as Dawson admitted: ¡°None as far as I know.¡±


    Greg nodded; that was what he had expected. ¡°Then there is me, the werewolf who made all of this possible in the first place. I¡¯m sure you can see why I¡¯m expecting some accommodation from you?¡±


    He could feel a trickle of sweat run down his back. He felt like a fraud, like they would laugh at him ¨C but he did have what they wanted, not the other way around, he had to remember that. He¡¯d seen his father do it, had seen Andrew do it, had talked about it with his parents. Be calm and polite, but firm.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Dawson said after a second. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can find a consensus.¡±


    ¡°I want to see what you write before you publish it, and we will reserve the right to make changes. Especially if you¡¯re going to do anything ¨C editorial about the experience of talking to a werewolf ¨C we would like to see it, so we can clear up any ¨C misunderstandings.¡±


    That was the difficult part, really. Proofreading an interview, that was standard, but asking to read the journalists¡¯ opinions, too, that was more unusual. Mulley and Dawson slowly nodded, though.


    Greg felt himself relax a little bit. ¡°Not many of the werewolves fresh from the wilderness will want to talk to you. They¡¯re still getting used to being amongst people, and the attack earlier certainly didn¡¯t help. Like my brothers, I ask that you respect their right to decline an interview and do not bother them about the matter. There is a good chance that those who have been stationed here longer would be interested in an interview.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way we can change their minds?¡± Mulley asked. ¡°You see, the more interviews we can do, the more nuanced our understanding will be, and the more thoroughly we can report. Certainly, that is in your best interest, too? Or is there something you want to hide?¡±


    ¡°The issue isn¡¯t hiding anything,¡± Greg said calmly. ¡°The issue is the moon phase. If you are willing to stay until full moon is over, and we have a waning crescent, you will get more takers.¡±


    ¡°We did hear from the scientists at Deva University that many of you folks tend to be more ¨C animalistic ¨C this time of the month,¡± Mulley went on, while Dawson took meticulous notes. ¡°Yet nobody is in a cage yet? That¡¯s not dangerous?¡±


    Greg crossed his arms in front of his chest. ¡°Animalistic is a grossly imprecise term to describe what happens. There is no danger here at all. There will be no danger until the sun sets on the first night of full moon. It is, however, more painful to turn human this time of month, and many of us simply do not choose to do so.¡±


    ¡°Painful.¡±


    ¡°Yes. If you are fine with me translating, more of us might be willing to talk to you. But they won¡¯t turn human.¡±


    ¡°The wolves can still talk?¡±


    ¡°To other werewolves, yes. I do also have a volunteer to be your first interview partner in human form.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with that ¨C that person, yes?¡± Dawson said, looking at Mulley.


    ¡°There is one last issue,¡± Greg said. ¡°And this has nothing to do with us, but is rather an order we will need to follow, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll understand this: We cannot go into too many details regarding how exactly we fought the Rot here.¡±


    ¡°What? But that¡¯s ¨C¡°


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    ¡°That¡¯s a potential weapon in the hands of the Valoise,¡± Greg said calmly. ¡°I realize that your readers are deeply interested in these details, but we do need to win the war first. We can tell you what happened. We just cannot get into the finer points of why things fell out as they did.¡±


    ¡°We ¨C yes, of course. We wouldn¡¯t want to give the Valoise any advantage.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Greg said. ¡°Let me go and get R¨¦my.¡±


    Greg warned R¨¦my, too, against talking about how age affected a werewolf¡¯s powers. When they reached the table where the two journalists sat, their notebooks in front of them, Greg almost thought R¨¦my would back out. Both Mulley and Dawson got up.


    ¡°We apologize for what happened earlier,¡± Mulley said. ¡°We had no idea that man wasn¡¯t a real reporter. We wouldn¡¯t have travelled with him had we known. My name is Mulley, and this is my colleague, Mr. Dawson. We work for the Eoforwic Tribunal, the biggest newspaper in the city.¡±


    ¡°R¨¦my. Uh, R¨¦my ¨C Pernier.¡± He visibly hesitated, and then smiled, looking embarrassed. ¡°Sun, haven¡¯t used that name in ages. Used to be a hunter, but small time. Nothing like Lord Feleke¡¯s family. Been a werewolf for, oh, nine years now? Ten?¡±


    ¡°The werewolf that bit you, was it a mad one?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve no idea. Used to think every werewolf is a senseless monster, and if you expect that, that¡¯s what you¡¯re going to see, right?¡±


    R¨¦my shrugged uncertainly. ¡°My partner left me for dead, thought I¡¯d bleed out from the bites.¡±


    ¡°Then how did you survive?¡±


    ¡°Well, see, I got bitten on the day before the actual full moon.¡±


    ¡°And that helped how?¡±


    R¨¦my glanced at Greg before he explained: ¡°Well, you see, your first transformation, that¡¯s when the curse takes hold for real. That¡¯s some serious magic. I don¡¯t know how it works, but if you live until moonrise of that night, chances are good you¡¯ll survive whatever injuries you have.¡±


    ¡°Did you stay in Loegrion, or did you make for the mountains right away?¡±


    ¡°I ran as soon as I realized that I hadn¡¯t actually turned into a monster,¡± R¨¦my said. ¡°Luckily, Pierre took me in.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Pierre? Is he here, I mean?¡±


    ¡°Oh, sure. See the old man sitting with the others over there?¡±


    Both journalists looked up to glance over at Pierre. ¡°He ¨C seems to be really quite old,¡± Mulley went on after a moment. ¡°And he took you in? Like a son?¡±


    R¨¦my laughed. ¡°Nah. Nothing like that. Pierre¡¯s our pack leader, he just let me join. He was the one who led us back to Loegrion, too. It¡¯s really lucky he¡¯s here, we¡¯d never have beaten those Rot-queens if...¡±


    R¨¦my stopped himself just as Greg moved to interrupt him. ¡°Sorry, can¡¯t talk about that.¡±


    Of course, that made the two journalists only more curious. ¡°Surely, a healthy young man ¨C werewolf ¨C such as yourself ¨C would have been better off in a fight without having to guard someone as old as him? Or is he less ¨C frail as a werewolf?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± R¨¦my said, grinning. ¡°Not at all. Can¡¯t tell you more, though.¡±


    ¡°How about just between the ¨C the four of us?¡± Mulley asked.


    ¡°Yeah, no,¡± R¨¦my said before Greg could even open his mouth. ¡°Sorry, but I¡¯m not gonna piss off the Relentless himself.¡±


    Mr. Mulley looked at Dawson questioningly. When his colleague shook his head, he asked: ¡°The Relentless? Who would that be?¡±


    ¡°The Feleke Four?¡± R¨¦my asked. ¡°The Old Man, the Relentless, Fleetfoot? The Mad Butcher? Ironhand? Hunters usually don¡¯t introduce themselves by their real names to us.¡±


    ¡°I know of the Feleke Four, yes. I had never heard of the rest of them. They are all hunters?¡±


    ¡°The Old Man, the Relentless, and Fleetfoot are the Feleke Four,¡± R¨¦my explained. ¡°Last one never really got a nickname.¡±


    ¡°Just Andrew,¡± Greg added.


    ¡°Right. I think Ironhand might be retired, actually,¡± R¨¦my went on. ¡°Had an iron hand, hence the name. He was big when I got bitten, but he was kinda old, too. He didn¡¯t follow me past the foothills of the Crucible Ridge. I¡¯d be dead if it had been the Relentless.¡±


    ¡°My brother, Lord David Feleke,¡± Greg explained.


    ¡°Yeah, him. He¡¯s the worst. He picks up your trail and he just ¨C just doesn¡¯t stop, until you¡¯re dead. You gotta go deep, deep into Rot country, and even then there¡¯s a chance that you come out a few months later, and there he is, waiting for you. Scary as hell to think that he¡¯s the one in charge of all this. Though, having his little brother in the pack will hopefully help.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to know who this ¡°Ironhand¡± used to be?¡± Mulley asked, looking at Greg. ¡°Or this ¡°Mad Butcher¡±?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the lady,¡± R¨¦my said. ¡°The one who was here. Used to be her father¡¯s name, until the Morgulon killed him.¡±


    ¡°Countess Lane deLande.¡±


    ¡°Countess deLande is... Oh my,¡± Mulley muttered. ¡°Oh my.¡±


    ¡°Can we write about this?¡± Dawson asked.


    ¡°She knows,¡± Greg said. ¡°So it¡¯ll depend on the result.¡±


    ¡°Would your brothers be willing to answer more questions, milord?¡± Mulley asked.


    ¡°Andrew, likely. Nathan, I¡¯ll have to ask.¡±


    The two journalists went back to R¨¦my¡¯s story after that, asking about his journey to the Argentum Formation and his life there in more details, and finally about meeting Greg and the decision to return to Loegrion. They took their time and didn¡¯t ask again about the fight against the Rot-queens until they had a very solid back story on R¨¦my.


    It took more than two hours and they thanked R¨¦my profusely for taking the time.


    ¡°Could we do another interview after dinner? It needn¡¯t be quite this long, of course.¡±


    Gertrude talked to them for about an hour. The same night, just as Greg was about to go to bed, they had their first two stories ready for him to read: A longer piece about the ¡°Siege of the Rot-queens¡± and a shorter bit about the ¡°Murderer in the Name of Mithras.¡±


    The first article was a fairly accurate summary of what had happened during the fight, with a focus on the damages the journalists had witnessed themselves. The second one contained a brief summary of how Allard had attempted to kill Pierre. The tone was surprisingly ¨C outraged ¨C on behalf of the werewolves. Greg had no changes to make to either of the pieces.


    ¡°They¡¯ll appear in the morning edition tomorrow,¡± Mulley informed him, while Dawson hurried off to get them on the telegraph.


    Rhuad was happy to talk to them the next morning for a bit, and Oli agreed to answer some questions as long as Eyal was there, too. This was the first interview after which Greg worried if he would get them to cut some of the more problematic passages. He couldn¡¯t deny that it was in the public¡¯s interest to learn how the Rot-queen had called Oli out of the camp as soon as Ragna had left, how it had roped him in despite his best efforts to resist. He just didn¡¯t want all of that to become public knowledge.


    He shouldn¡¯t have allowed this interview in the first place.


    But before he could figure out a way to fix that mistake, the whole thing was pushed back in importance. In the late afternoon, just as Pierre finished up his own conversation with Mulley and Dawson, a large group of soldiers and riders reached the camp: A company of infantrymen with their train of supplies, and on horseback, David and Duke George Louis himself, surrounded by his personal guard.

 Chapter 111

    The arrival of about a hundred armed men led by David Feleke caused instant panic amongst the new group of werewolves. Pierre, Gertrude, R¨¦my, and Leon transformed without bothering to take off their clothes first. Greg almost did, too, as Pierre in his terror forgot that he wanted Greg to talk to his family for the pack. At the sight of a dozen frightened, growling and yapping wolves, the duke¡¯s entourage lost their cool, too, forming a line and lowering their guns at the werewolves.


    Greg was almost certain that they hadn¡¯t loaded silver bullets, but it still wouldn¡¯t be a good start if someone got shot. He stepped forwards, uncertain how he might prevent that outcome, when David drawled:


    ¡°Hold your fire, soldiers. Get back in formation. It¡¯s quite all right.¡±


    He rode around the men with the guns, right into their line of fire. He had his crossbow at his back, loaded with silver, but he didn¡¯t reach for the weapon. He jumped out of the saddle instead and turned to Eyal, who had just hurried over.


    ¡°Mr. Levi, good evening. I do apologize for not sending a word of warning.¡±


    ¡°Lord Feleke,¡± Eyal bowed. ¡°Your Highness. This is quite a surprise.¡±


    ¡°Soldiers! I said back in formation!¡± David yelled over his shoulder. ¡°The next man to point a gun at a werewolf will have his rum rations docked!¡±


    Greg had no idea how David had even known that the men in his back had aimed their guns again. Maybe from the nervous reaction of the werewolves? There was something different about his oldest brother: David had never been a military man, certainly not an officer. He used to hate crowds. But he looked comfortably in command when he turned back to Eyal.


    ¡°Again, I apologize. It was a last-minute decision to accompany the reinforcements. Word has reached Deva of what happened here and His Highness wished to see the damages with his own eyes.¡±


    Greg wanted to go and greet his brother, but before he could, the ensign in charge came to stand beside Eyal. The boy ¨C young man ¨C looked like he was about to bow to David as well, but then he saluted instead.


    ¡°Ensign Nitt, my Lord.¡± He faltered, then pulled himself up even more and added: ¡°Acting commander of this camp. I welcome you, on behalf of Lieutenant Hugh as well.¡±


    ¡°Very good. Report to Lieutenant Sears to get the men settled, and have someone show His Highness around.¡± David turned around again. ¡°Lieutenant Sears!¡±


    He was acting as if there wasn¡¯t a single werewolf in sight, much less a dozen of them, all of them too scared to turn their backs on him. Greg felt a little hurt that David didn¡¯t even look in his direction, until he realized that his brother was intentionally ignoring the werewolves. Instead, he watched on as the officers gave orders and the soldiers began to settle down. Greg didn¡¯t know if it was the fact that David was completely unfazed or his threat of docking rations, but the men didn¡¯t so much as look sideways at the pack.


    Duke George Louis on the other hand put as much distance between himself and the wolves as was possible in the small camp, keeping an entourage of six men and dragging the soldier tasked with showing him around with himself.


    ¡°Has he talked to you yet?¡±


    Greg jumped when Andrew and Nathan appeared next to him. ¡°No, he¡¯s pretending we aren¡¯t here. I think it¡¯s working, actually.¡±


    Either that or Ragna¡¯s lack of reaction was calming Pierre down. Or both.


    Once all the soldiers were busy unloading, tending to the animals, or pitching tents, David looked around, and finally approached his brothers. He pulled Greg into a hug, and before he could pull away, Nathan and Andrew piled in, hitting David on the shoulder excitedly.


    ¡°Look at you, all stiff and important,¡± Nathan japed. ¡°How¡¯s Deva treating you?¡±


    Greg caught the flash of emotion that ran over David¡¯s face as they all hugged, exhaustion, pain, and something he couldn¡¯t place.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± David said.


    That was obviously a lie, but Greg kept his mouth shut. This wasn¡¯t the moment.


    ¡°I hope you guys are doing all right?¡± David went on. ¡°Want to introduce me, Greg, or should we wait?¡±


    Greg looked around until he caught Pierre¡¯s gaze. The elder¡¯s hackles were raised, but Greg thought he had mostly gotten over the first shock. ¡°Come,¡± he said out loud. ¡°But, uh, maybe not all of you.¡±


    Nathan chuckled, and Andrew said: ¡°We¡¯ll stand back.¡±


    Greg had to take a second to collect himself when David moved to follow him. Annabelle especially was putting pressure on him not to come closer.


    ¡°We can wait,¡± David said quietly when Greg paused. ¡°I can meet them later.¡±


    Greg shook his head. ¡°I would rather get it over with.¡±


    He set his jaw and moved forwards. Annabelle tugged her tail in and retreated when she realized that she couldn¡¯t stop him. Estelle followed, as did three of the wolves not from Pierre¡¯s pack. Laurent stayed.


    ¡°This is Pierre,¡± Greg introduced his pack leader. ¡°I told you about him before. Pierre, this is my brother David.¡±


    Yes, I know. Pierre sounded wry and wary at the same time, and he moved even more stiffly than usual. But he was no longer on the brink of running or attacking.


    ¡°I hope you will be willing to talk face to face later,¡± David said. ¡°Possibly after full moon?¡±


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    The elder nodded slowly.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± David said. He listened as Greg named the other wolves, and then claimed that he needed to check on his men again. He invited Greg to come with him, though, which made Greg suspect that it was only a polite way of giving the werewolves more space.


    As soon as they rounded the main hall, George Louis approached them in long strides and demanded to know: ¡°Are you sure this camp is quite safe? These walls are soft as wax and holey as cheese, and that pack did not look tame!¡±


    ¡°There is no such thing as a tame werewolf,¡± David confirmed. ¡°But these are still perfectly safe to be around. I would wager they were simply scared to see me?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Greg said when David looked at him. ¡°If we had known you were coming, they might have been calmer.¡±


    ¡°As I said, just the normal reaction of a werewolf to seeing me,¡± David repeated.


    Greg wondered what subtext he was missing when George Louis glared at him, then back at David. ¡°Whatever,¡± the duke grumbled and turned to his guide: ¡°I want to talk to the engineers and then visit the construction site. We¡¯ll stay no longer than strictly necessary.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Your Highness,¡± the soldier replied. ¡°All the engineers are inside the hall, two of their numbers were severely injured. If you will follow me?¡±


    George Louis looked less than thrilled at the prospect of visiting the wounded, but he rallied quickly. ¡°Did the healers say if we can bother their patients? I wouldn¡¯t want to interrupt anyone¡¯s recovery.¡±


    David grimaced as he looked after the duke.


    ¡°Are you going to stay longer?¡± Greg asked him, just as Nathan and Andrew caught up with them again.


    ¡°As long as necessary for your new friends to get comfortable around me. I¡¯d like them to come to Deva. I¡¯ve already spoken to Desmarais about it.¡±


    ¡°Can I come, too?¡±


    David raised his eyebrows. ¡°You don¡¯t want to go back to the cubs? Mum complains in every letter she sends me that I¡¯m keeping you away from your girls.¡±


    Greg ducked his head in embarrassment. ¡°I ¨C kind of got tangled up with the pack,¡± he admitted. ¡°It¡¯s hard to imagine leaving them right now.¡±


    David tugged at one of his braids. ¡°Well, perhaps Morgulon would be willing to move to the house at Deva. It would help to have Lane closer, too, if only to stop all the other ladies from proposing. She and this Pierre, do you think they would get along?¡±


    ¡°I think so, yes,¡± Greg said. ¡°It¡¯ll be like two kings in the same palace, but ¨C do you really think Desmarais would be willing to let all of us into the city?¡±


    ¡°He was all in favour. With all that trouble in the south, it''s smart to have the city well secured, especially with these Rot-queens defeated. I haven¡¯t asked George Louis yet,¡± David added, with a thin smile. ¡°He¡¯ll throw a fit, of course. But the danger has passed around here, hasn¡¯t it? So there¡¯s no reason to have a pack that large and powerful out here, once they have fixed the walls. Do you have any idea how many queens exist?¡±


    Greg took a deep breath. ¡°We¡¯re safe here, yes,¡± he said. ¡°Though there are more Rot-queens for sure. Every major river will have one at its source, the Savre and the Man will likely have more than one. The sites of large battles will have one each, though they might have moved elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°What about the Stour?¡± David asked. ¡°Would Rust be able ¨C¡°


    Greg shook his head. ¡°Ragna would have been in serious trouble. If it had only been the smaller of two queens, she might have been able to hold her own, but that¡¯s the thing about them, they can raise whole armies of Rot straight out of the ground. And Rust would never be able to keep the younger wolves with him safe.¡±


    ¡°So how much trouble is Rust in?¡±


    ¡°Not too much,¡± Greg said. ¡°Oh, come with me! I gotta show you something!¡±


    David looked bemused and Nathan sniggered, but his brothers followed Greg to the room where the engineers usually had their meetings. He rummaged around until he found their maps. He picked one from the stack and spread it over the blueprints on the big table in the middle of the room.


    ¡°Here, this one has all the rivers, see? Here¡¯s where we are, right at the Savre, between these two little sidearms. Here are the Fronthills, here would be Slopes, though it¡¯s not marked. And here is the Stour¡¯s source. You see? It¡¯s less than thirty miles, directly to the west from here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all very interesting, Greg,¡± David said, a tired smile on his face. ¡°But I don¡¯t quite see what you¡¯re trying to say with all this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying we probably just killed the Stour¡¯s queen. Morgulon did, in any case. I think. I¡¯m pretty sure.¡±


    His brothers suddenly looked at the map with a lot more interest.


    ¡°They were down here,¡± David said slowly, pointing at the stretch of the Stour north of Northwold. ¡°Rust and his group, I mean. back when you guys sent word that Neville had sensed something. Easily twice as far as this camp.¡±


    Greg nodded excitedly. ¡°Pierre doesn¡¯t want to say it was the Stour¡¯s queen yet for certain,¡± he admitted, ¡°but it fits! Either the snowmelt or Rust and his group woke it up ¨C or both ¨C but they were much further away than the werewolves of the railway! So it came here.¡±


    ¡°If you are correct we got this close to losing Slopes,¡± David said, following the line from the Stour¡¯s well to where they were at with his index finger, then hitting the city with his thumb. ¡°Can you imagine ¨C which queen was the Stour¡¯s, the dryad or the werewolf? Can you imagine what would have happened if a Rot-werewolf had raided a town like Slopes?¡±


    He pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Thanks for showing me this. Please, don¡¯t tell anyone else.¡±


    Greg shook his head. ¡°Pierre can imagine, too. That¡¯s why we raced to make it here before ¨C before that happened. We crossed the Stour only a few miles below the source, and Pierre said that he couldn¡¯t feel the queen there.¡±


    ¡°Some good news at last,¡± David said. He stared at the map some more. ¡°Good news indeed. Mithras knows we need some.¡±


    Greg hesitated. ¡°Um, about the not telling anyone thing...¡±


    David let his head fall forward, looking tired. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Nothing yet. But, well, there¡¯re a couple of journalists in the camp, and they asked to interview the werewolves. So far, they talked to R¨¦my, Gertrude, and Pierre, and also Rhuad and Oli. They did agree to let me see everything they write beforehand, so I can veto parts of what was said, but I think it might help if you could confirm that I¡¯m like, officially tasked to do so? Because there are parts in Oli¡¯s interview, where he talks about how the Rot-queen called him out of the camp, that, well, I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll help with making people trust us.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I can do that, sure.¡± He stared at the map a little longer. ¡°Actually, can you note down your theory and anything else Pierre said about Rot-queens, to pass on to the scientists? I¡¯ll check on George Louis, and then we can go talk to the press?¡±


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll go talk to Audenne,¡± Greg said. ¡°He already talked to Pierre.¡±


    ¡°All the better.¡±


    Andrew stepped forward as David straightened. ¡°Did my letter happen to reach you before you left Deva?¡±


    David paused in surprise. He looked around the small, somewhat chaotic room, and pulled himself a chair up. ¡°No. Only the telegrams. Close the door, Greg, will you?¡±


    Andrew took a seat himself, and Nathan. Greg closed the door since he was closest, and then joined them at the table. Andrew summarized Eyal¡¯s request.


    When he was done, David frowned. ¡°They want this place?¡± he asked, but before Andrew could explain, he answered himself: ¡°No, I get it. They¡¯ll have a guaranteed railway connection, the river will get cleansed sooner or later, and they already got started on clearing the forest.¡± He ran a hand over his braids. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to George Louis about this, yes. Anything else I should know? Actually, while we sit down like this, what the hell happened here?¡±

 Chapter 112

    The brothers talked about everything that had happened at Brines while David had been gone, at the camp and at the mountains. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was just the four of them, and they used the time to catch up. For once, George Louis didn¡¯t send an aide to bother him. When David finally went to look for the duke himself, he expected more complaints, not least about the fact that he had left him alone that long in the camp with the big, scary werewolves.


    But when he found George Louis, he was quietly, pensively, staring at one of the two destroyed guardians of the camp. The huge clay figure had fallen onto its side, missing both legs, part of an arm, and the sculpted face had been deformed, too, as if something had tried to claw its eyes out. Only the foreign rune was still visible on its forehead. Andrew had described it as glowing, but now there was no light in it.


    ¡°It¡¯s far more impressive up close,¡± David ventured when he grew tired of just standing around. George Louis had clearly noticed him.


    It was a rather redundant statement. When they had seen the picture in the newspaper yesterday, they had both wondered how the navvies had held out long enough for the werewolves to arrive. But looking up at the huge clay figure, its shoulder nearly as wide as he was tall, he got a better sense of how terrifying four of them must have been in combat.


    ¡°The Wayfarers never used them in combat,¡± George Louis finally said. ¡°They could have slaughtered whole cities, taken land for themselves by force, but they never employed them against humans. Strange, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Not everyone is a conqueror.¡±


    ¡°Neither am I. Just trying to make a home for us, free of oppression. As are they, if I understood correctly.¡±


    David crossed his arms over his chest. He was fairly certain that George Louis was after more than just a ¡°home, free of oppression.¡± Unlike the Wayfarers. But that wasn¡¯t the point, anyway.


    ¡°Imagine if the Valoise knew that the Wayfarers had the means to animate these constructs. And on top of that, Andrew says it was likely done by ritual rather than magic. The Valoise would never have let such a challenge to the superiority of Mithras stand. Even we ¨C if the Wayfarers had started using these ¡®golems¡¯ against anyone or anything three years ago, even to fight the Rot ¨C don¡¯t tell me you wouldn¡¯t have called on the Grande Arm¨¦e to drive them out?¡±


    ¡°That was then,¡± George Louis said. He carefully touched the lifeless clay, where a human handprint was visible on what remained of the shattered arm. ¡°All this for some land up north,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°So many injured ¨C crippled...¡±


    He trailed off, glancing back towards the hall where the injured lay. David couldn¡¯t tell if he was being dramatic or genuinely moved by what he had seen. He never could.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯m of half a mind to give them part of the Stour-valley. These people clearly have a knack for dealing with the Rot. What do you think? It¡¯ll be tricky anyway, to find farmers willing to resettle the river. And I could be persuaded to grant them much more land than I originally intended. Maybe extent the offer to the other navvies who fought here.¡±


    David ran a hand over his braids. He wouldn¡¯t get a better opening to present Eyal¡¯s request. Or should he ask the navvies first whether or not they liked the Stour valley better than this camp?


    But at the Stour valley, they would have to start from nothing.


    ¡°How about giving Mr. Levi and his crew this camp and the surrounding lands?¡± David asked aloud. ¡°You¡¯ll always have workers at hand to keep the bridge in repair, and you¡¯ll have people settling in even before the Rot-queens of the Savre are defeated.¡±


    ¡°Queens. Plural again? And what do you mean by ¡®of the Savre?¡¯ What do these Queens have to do with the rivers?¡±


    ¡°By creating a queen from the spring, the Rot takes over a river. Or perhaps it¡¯s the other way around, and a Rot-queen is born from a river¡¯s corrupted source. Either way, we have to assume this place is threatened by at last two,¡± David said. ¡°One from the Savre itself, and one of the Man. But given the size of both rivers, there is a good chance that there will be more than one. Not to speak of the larger tributaries. Apparently, each major battlefield of when the Valoise first came here potentially created a queen, as well. They move around though, and sometimes werewolves kill one or a new one is ¨C born ¨C of a corrupted creature of magic.¡±


    ¡°Such as a werewolf? The navvies told me one looked like that.¡±


    ¡°That is correct.¡±


    David waited, but George Louis only frowned briefly.


    ¡°How do we know that the two queens killed here didn¡¯t belong to the Savre?¡±


    ¡°Do you see a change in the river?¡± David asked back. ¡°But there is a really good chance, according to the new pack¡¯s leader, that at least one of the queens killed here came from the Stour¡¯s well.¡±


    George Louis scratched his beard. ¡°Is there a way to confirm that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask Rust to go alone to check, once they have cleansed the rest of the river.¡±


    ¡°Alone?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll know if there¡¯s danger, and he should be able to run. Any younger werewolf accompanying him will only be at risk.¡±


    David looked over his shoulder to where the pack was gathered next to where the tables and benches still stood out in the open. ¡°Or perhaps one of the wolves already here would be willing to do it. I¡¯ll ask.¡±


    ¡°Why did you suggest this camp for the Wayfarers, though?¡± George Louis returned back to the original question. ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem like much of a reward. This place is a mess.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re asking for it.¡±


    George Louis considered that.


    ¡°They have already made a stand here,¡± David added. ¡°I do think it¡¯s a reasonable request.¡±


    George Louis looked around the camp again, but nodded slowly.


    ¡°They are also asking for written confirmation that you will grant them freedom of religion here. For themselves and their descendants.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, yes,¡± George Louis grumbled, waving his hand vaguely. ¡°I promised, didn¡¯t I? Here or at Mannin, that part won¡¯t change. I really don¡¯t care who or what they worship, as long as it¡¯s not the Rot.¡±


    ¡°Really.¡±


    ¡°You know, your distrust is starting to become hurtful.¡±


    ¡°So you didn¡¯t promise, at the last Council of Lords, that you would recognize the superior Might of Mithras and plan to upheld his powers above all other gods, with only minor reforms to the Loegrian Church? I distinctly remember you saying that you were going to attempt to pass the First Trial yourself? To better lead the country?¡±


    ¡°And you believed that?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m simply having difficulties to discern which of your ¡®promises¡¯ I can trust in. And I couldn¡¯t fault Eyal and his crew if they have similar misgivings. Hence the request for a signed grant.¡±


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    ¡°They¡¯ll have it.¡±


    ¡°This year?¡±


    The duke turned to glare at him. ¡°Tomorrow. Will that be acceptable?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    ¡°How very generous of you.¡±


    David answered the duke¡¯s glare unfazed. Sometimes he wondered how much more insolence George Louis would take from him. On the other hand, he hadn¡¯t yet gotten seriously angry at David, so maybe he didn¡¯t mind so much.


    Or he was biding his time to come up with an act of particularly creative revenge.


    ¡°Speaking of the devil,¡± George Louis muttered.


    David didn¡¯t know who or what had tipped him off, but Eyal was approaching them with long strides. David smiled inwardly.


    ¡°We were just talking about you, Mr. Levi,¡± George Louis said. ¡°And your crew. Lord David tells me you are asking for this camp and the surrounding land rather than the farms you were promised further north.¡±


    ¡°Your Highness, that is true,¡± Eyal replied with a bow. He didn¡¯t straighten all the way but still towered over David and the duke.


    ¡°I¡¯m not opposed,¡± George Louis went on. ¡°But let¡¯s discuss this further. Is there a place left where we can sit down?¡±


    They ended up in the Inn, in a backroom barely big enough for a table and four chairs around it. But at least they could close the door and they were served beer and food.


    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness,¡± Eyal began, as soon as they sat, ¡°for entertaining our request.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s I who owes gratitude,¡± George Louis replied. ¡°You and your men ¨C and Mr. Digger¡¯s men ¨C held out here against perils nobody could have foreseen. Your dedication to this enterprise has not gone unnoticed. I am therefore willing to renegotiate the terms of our agreement. Within reason. If you would state what exactly you are after?¡±


    Eyal had clearly prepared for this. He even had numbers written for how much land he wanted for each of his men, and also where he wanted it.


    ¡°That is ¨C less than originally agreed,¡± George Louis noted.


    ¡°Your Highness ¨C we also ask for this camp,¡± Eyal went on. ¡°We cannot pay for the materials other than with our labour, so we ask for all we have built and will build here until the line is finished. Further, as merchants already flock here, we ask for market rights here. For freedom of religion. And for the right to hire werewolves until the danger of the Rot is mitigated.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± George Louis said slowly. ¡°That is ¨C quite a request.¡±


    ¡°I think we earned it, Your Highness. And we are not asking for an elder werewolf.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t one of your golems be more effective?¡±


    Eyal shook his head. His large hand gripped the table top. ¡°We may make another one just in case, but we cannot create golems in large numbers, Your Highness. It takes too much time. And they do not heal like werewolves. Nor do they possess the same type of intelligence. Even with the full moon condition, werewolves are more reliable protection.¡±


    George Louis didn¡¯t look convinced. ¡°Those two out there held the camp for quite some time, if I understood correctly?¡±


    ¡°Four,¡± Eyal said quietly. ¡°It took four to defend the camp. And there are no remains of the other two. We barely held on until the werewolves got here. We would much prefer to have werewolves for protection.¡±


    ¡°Four?¡± George Louis echoed. ¡°I see.¡± He pursed his lips. After a minute or two, he held out a hand for the piece of paper on which Eyal had written down how much land he requested for how many navvies. George Louis stiffened when he looked at it, his lips forming a thin line. Then nodded to himself. ¡°Very well. I will grant your request. This camp and as much land as we agreed on when you accepted this job.¡±


    Eyal straightened in surprise, then lowered his head again. ¡°Thank you, Your Highness. That is very generous.¡±


    And unexpected, at least to David. It wasn¡¯t like George Louis to give more than was asked.


    ¡°How about a bit of ¨C fanfare?¡± he said aloud. ¡°To mark the event? I could talk to Lieutenant Sears. It seems quite an opportune moment, since we have the press here.¡±


    George Louis looked at him in surprise. ¡°I was about to suggest the same,¡± he claimed.


    And again, David had no idea if that was the truth or not. Publicity was Eyal¡¯s and his men¡¯s best protection to ensure that George Louis didn¡¯t try to back out of his word. And granted, the duke might gain from it, too, to be seen this generous to what the press might call working men, if they didn¡¯t call Eyal and his crew Moon Worshippers or worse things.


    George Louis looked down at the paper again that Eyal had handed him. David hadn¡¯t seen what exactly was on there, but it seemed to bother George Louis. Eventually, he asked: ¡°Mr. Levi, would you mind if I extended a similar offer to everyone else who has fought at this camp? Lord Feleke tells me that one of the Rot-queens killed here likely came from the Stour. I might offer land in the river¡¯s valley to the rest of the crew.¡±


    Eyal considered that. ¡°In addition to the gold they were promised, or instead of?¡±


    ¡°Instead of,¡± George Louis said.


    ¡°As long as the pay is equal, I don¡¯t think anyone of my people would object.¡±


    ¡°Very good.¡±


    George Louis got up. ¡°I will have the deed written up by tomorrow,¡± he promised.


    ¡°You look spooked,¡± David noted when they both stood outside the inn again. ¡°Something wrong?¡±


    George Louis shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest, and for a second, he managed a smile that even looked convincing. But then he shook his head again. ¡°Just the numbers,¡± he finally said.


    ¡°What numbers?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Mr. Levi asked for land for sixteen men. Fifteen and one woman, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°It used to be twenty-eight.¡±


    David raised his eyebrows. ¡°And that surprised you? You ordered them to into these forests and are surprised when they die? You cannot be serious. You have seen the destruction the Rot wreaks at Oldstone Castle yourself!¡±


    George Louis glared at him. ¡°That was a battle.¡±


    ¡°God, give me patience,¡± David groaned. ¡°Yes, and these men have battled the Rot every damn day for the past ¨C what, two years now! They fought two bloody Rot-queens here!¡±


    He wanted to either bury his face in his hands or maybe hit the duke. He couldn¡¯t truly be this naive?


    ¡°I do not often travel the countryside,¡± George Louis said. ¡°People rarely die from the Rot at Mannin. Or Deva for that matter.¡±


    David considered that. ¡°If I was you, I would at some point talk to the city watch of Mannin. Because I have a feeling they aren¡¯t telling you how many people die in the camps surrounding the city.¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Because any time a citizen dies, the watch failed at their job? And nobody likes to report failure. Nobody likes to deliver any type of bad news, unless they think you can help them.¡±


    Another thought came to him, a memory. ¡°Hang on, we used to travel the countryside together. Around the Heartlands, true, but you told me you went riding a lot around Mannin, too? Or was that a lie as well.¡±


    ¡°No. I just stopped doing it after ¨C after my son was born. It seemed a pointless risk.¡± George Louis trailed off and stared across the camp to where most of the werewolves were still resting. David could feel the power of the oldest one ¨C not Pierre. Laurent, Greg had said. It was faint, like evening sunlight on his face. And he could tell without turning his head that Pierre was somewhere in the same direction as the river. He was fairly certain that George Louis couldn¡¯t feel it, yet the man looked worried.


    ¡°It¡¯s a shame Mr. Levi¡¯s men can¡¯t make us an army of those golems,¡± he said after a while. ¡°Did you spot any of the remains of the other two he spoke about?¡±


    David shook his head. ¡°No. Andrew and Nathan did mention there were four of them, though. I reckon the Rot ground them into dust.¡±


    ¡°Shame,¡± George Louis repeated.


    David looked around the camp again. ¡°Are you going to need more of my help?¡± he asked. ¡°Otherwise, I¡¯d like to take a walk around the walls. Outside,¡± he added. ¡°Perhaps talk to the werewolves again.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead if you really can¡¯t stand my presence,¡± George Louis grumbled.


    David gave a mocking bow.


    Something had occurred to him when the duke had asked about the golems. Because there really was no trace of two of them.


    He saddled his horse himself and rode out of the camp through a breech in the walls. Workers were busy fixing the gaps, and some of them waved at David as he circled the camp. He barely noticed. He was too focused on the ground in front of his gelding.


    He had expected to find a trail running towards the closest bit of forest, but he had been wrong: When he finally found the huge, deep footsteps ¨C two sets of them, flanking a human¡¯s imprints ¨C they led in the other direction, towards the Savre. David followed them all the way through the swamp, to a cove in the river¡¯s shoreline. There, the trail vanished in the water. David stared into the dark floods, but couldn¡¯t spot any sign of the golems.


    He couldn¡¯t stay long, either. His head was aching and his eyes watered from trying to see anything down there, even though no Rot-creature reared its ugly head.


    He would have to ask Eyal why they had lead two of their valuable golems into the river. Surely the water would damage them, if they didn¡¯t get outright destroyed?


    Eyal looked at him sharply when David asked him why the Wayfarers had decided to sink two of their golems in the river. David had found him in the little room he used to plan the crew¡¯s rosters in. It was repaired already, since the navvies needed to be organized in their work. At David¡¯s question, the large man got up and closed the shutters.


    ¡°How do you know?¡± he asked once he sat down again.


    ¡°There was no trace of them in the camp. No trace at all. So I had a look around outside and found the tracks.¡±


    ¡°Ah. You did not tell His Highness?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad. I did not like lying to him. But if he knew that two golems survived and are still fit for battle, it might hurt the werewolves. And we have no interest in becoming his ¨C weapon smiths.¡±


    ¡°What if the Rot comes back?¡±


    Eyal shrugged. ¡°As long as we¡¯re building the railway, it¡¯s in the company¡¯s best interest to keep us safe. So they¡¯ll have ¨C well, they¡¯ll make you organize it, but I am sure we will have an elder for protection as long as the work lasts. Once we finish ¨C probably sometime in summer ¨C by that time we can make new golems. For now, we¡¯ll keep quiet. It was a good thing we got them out before the press arrived.¡±


    David nodded. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Eyal shrugged. ¡°We know what we owe your brother. And all the others who helped defend us.¡±

 Chapter 113

    George Louis had claimed one of the tables outside under the quickly darkening sky; Andrew and Nathan sat with him. Greg was a couple of tables over, with Audenne and two men David didn¡¯t know. The table between them was covered in paper, so David assumed that those were the journalists who had secured themselves the first interviews with the werewolves.


    The way the rest of the press leaned towards them, either glaring or notebooks ready, was another hint.


    David stood in the shadow of the big hall, close enough to listen in on Greg arguing with a Mr. Mulley, who apparently didn¡¯t want to take out Oli¡¯s answers regarding the way the Rot-queen had pulled him in. Just as David wondered if he should step in, Greg changed his angle, asking: ¡°Mr. Mulley, is the Eoforwic Tribunal able to print pictures?¡±


    Both men pulled themselves up. ¡°Of course we are! We have some of the best engravers in the city!¡±


    ¡°In that case, perhaps we can offer you some pictures of the battle and the Rot-queen, in exchange for a lighter hand in reporting on what it actually did? Prof. Audenne here, chair of magi-zoology, took sketches throughout the battle and would be willing to part with some of them.¡±


    The two journalists looked at each other. ¡°Well... We would certainly be interested in taking a look.¡±


    Greg held up a hand. ¡°This is a ¨C limited offer, gentlemen. You need to understand: These are originals. There are no copies ¨C not even similar drawings anywhere in the world. I am told that the photographs of the dead husks were extremely successful in Mannin, and all they showed were some destroyed brutes. These are the only life-drawings of the Rot and queens in existence. Plus some sketches of fighting werewolves. If you want first pick, we expect your cooperation in return.¡±


    David grinned. He was sure Mr. Grooch would have approved of the way Greg handled the situation. He had presented a very nice carrot. And David could add the stick.


    He closed the distance. ¡°Gentlemen,¡± he said, ¡°I believe my brother¡¯s offer is rather generous. I would strongly advise you to take it.¡±


    The two journalists blinked at him, then hurried to stand up and bow. ¡°Lord Feleke, we¡¯re honoured,¡± the one Greg had called Mulley claimed. He couldn¡¯t quite hide his worry, though. They probably thought that he would be firmer than Greg in dealing with them. David smiled mirthlessly. Greg had done a phenomenal job already ¨C sure, with Grooch whispering in his ear for the past six months, David probably could have handled the journalists, too. But Greg had done it without a tutor and done it well.


    David nodded to the two strangers. Barely. Playing the haughty noble, like he usually did when Grooch dealt with the press in his name. He took a seat without waiting for an invitation and let the crossbow slide off his shoulders, put it down onto the bench next to himself. It didn¡¯t point at anyone, but it was in easy reach. He folded his hands on the table while the two reporters looked uncertainly at him.


    ¡°Do sit down,¡± David said. ¡°Prof. Audenne, it¡¯s good to see you again.¡± He nodded at the professor, who smiled back. ¡°May I see?¡±


    Audenne carefully handed him the stack of papers. They had been taken out of a sketchbook, most likely. David could see the holes from the stitching on the top page. Tissue papers separated the layers to ensure the coal didn¡¯t smudge.


    They were exquisite. David had seen Audenne¡¯s work before, and had been impressed by how much detail the old professor could put into a drawing with just a few strokes. And this had to be some of his best: Even in the low light, they seemed to come alive.


    There was no picture of the werewolf Rot-queen, but there were a couple of drawings of the Dryad. Most showed brutes and werewolves fighting. David could even tell which werewolf was shown in each of them.


    ¡°These are very good, Professor,¡± David said out loud.


    ¡°Thank you, milord. I am planning on doing some bigger paintings of these studies, possibly do a small run of woodcuts. I could contact you, if you are interested?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    David picked one of the sketches and pushed it over to the two journalists. Then he waved to a soldier. The man was probably on break, but on David¡¯s sign, he swerved over to their table. ¡°Get us some light, soldier,¡± David ordered. ¡°Lamps, if possible, or torches.¡±


    ¡°At once, Your Lordship.¡±


    Greg looked a little startled. David smiled at him. The nearly six months he had been getting lectured by Grooch and mocked by Lord Clermont hadn¡¯t been a complete waste of time. He was a slow learner when it came to politics, but he did learn. And they held all the cards here, anyway.


    ¡°I do think it is a fair offer,¡± David said, lightly tipping his finger onto the page he had pushed over to the two journalists. It showed Calder destroying a brute. ¡°Think about it for a moment if you like,¡± he added. ¡°I already gave orders to the soldiers manning the telegraph.¡±


    He didn¡¯t elaborate what the order had been, wondering if they would ask. He hadn¡¯t in fact commanded anything yet, but he would warn Lieutenant Sears to only pass on messages for the journalists that Greg had approved.


    The journalists looked at each other. ¡°May we see the others?¡± Mulley asked.


    David passed the drawings on, and reached instead for one of the other papers on the table. He scanned the text, an interview with Pierre, turned into an article. David saw nothing objectionable in there, but didn¡¯t say anything. Greg offered him a different page, while the journalists softly discussed the pictures.


    They were already deciding which ones they wanted for their paper.


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    And then began the negotiation on how many sketches they would get. All David needed to do was sit there and watch, looking stern, while Greg did the talking. He was rather glad about that division of labour.


    The third article David scanned over was the one that had Greg so worried, the interview with Oli. It was an excellent article, in that it conveyed Oli¡¯s fear at the thought of the Rot-queen well. Wherein lay the problem, of course.


    By the time Greg was done, the two journalists had agreed to cut the article entirely, to focus instead on the werewolves¡¯ victory over the foul creatures.


    ¡°Your brother is rather skilled in dealing with the press,¡± George Louis remarked, once the deliberations were over. ¡°Quite unlike you, I have to note.¡±


    ¡°Yes, how very amazing that the four of us aren¡¯t all the same,¡± David grumbled.


    ¡°What was in the article the journalists agreed not to publish?¡±


    David briefly considered lying, but unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t a great liar ¨C if he were, he would have been ready for that question. Now he had already hesitated too long.


    ¡°It outlines the process by which one of the Rot-queens came to be. I think you can guess which of the two we¡¯re concerned about.¡±


    George Louis frowned. ¡°You aren¡¯t saying that one of the werewolves from here ¨C¡°


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°But it could have happened?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°That queen came from somewhere, so in theory? Sure.¡±


    ¡°Huh. Those kinds of queens wouldn¡¯t be the same as the regular werewolves, though, right? I meant that ¨C well, that thing regarding their age?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know as soon as this new pack agrees to talk to me.¡±


    The duke huffed softly. ¡°Don¡¯t take too long. I need you in Deva.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll bring the werewolves. Desmarais already agreed.¡±


    George Louis grimaced. ¡°You talked to Desmarais about this?¡± he asked. ¡°You could have asked me.¡±


    ¡°Yes? But I¡¯m not taking them to Mannin?¡±


    He expected George Louis to argue about safety or the full moon madness, or anything like that, but the duke fell silent. His face suddenly looked grey even in the light of the torches and he pushed himself out of his chair.


    ¡°Soon,¡± he muttered. ¡°I better get that deed written up for your Wayfarer friends.¡±


    He walked away, grumbling something about bringing a secretary next time. David frowned after him. That had been suspiciously easy.


    George Louis did have a deed written up for Eyal to read over by the next day. The two men agreed to have the small ceremony in the evening, right before dinner. The duke claimed that he didn¡¯t want to keep the men from their work; it was purely coincidental that a news crew from Manning arrived with the next mail coach.


    David could only guess that the railway was getting desperate for more hands.


    He spent the day setting everything up with Lieutenant Sears, whose men provided the literal fanfare, and the work crews, who put together a simple little stage for the duke to give a speech on, and fielding questions. There was no way to keep what was going on a secret. Mr. Digger was the first to seek him out. As soon as David had explained how he and his men could have a part of their promised reward paid in land, Andrew¡¯s merchant friend Stokes asked for an exclusive deal to supply the soon-to-be settlers. Stokes then nearly got into a shouting match with the proprietor of the roadhouse who wanted a similar privilege. David shut them both up by pointing out that part of the reward to the navvies would be market rights. Finally, the young Ensign Nitt showed up to ask if the extension of the offer to all men who fought at the camp would also include the soldiers.


    The only ones who didn¡¯t ask what their payment for their efforts would be were the werewolves.


    Not that David had much to offer them, anyway. The best he could do for the moment was free food, beer, and spare uniforms for those who wanted them. Paltry, compared to what George Louis was promising the navvies. And yes, the soldiers who had fought, too. Not that there were many of them left.


    David stood a step behind and besides the duke while he held his speech, which offered him a fine view of the crowd. The defenders of the camp stood right in front of the stage ¨C right behind the camera. To the sides stood the honour formation of Sears¡¯ fresh soldiers. In the back were the few civilians who had arrived since the battle ¨C mostly merchants and journalists ¨C and behind even them, Pierre and his pack. Half of them had remained wolves, but of those who had turned human, only Pierre and Greg weren¡¯t wearing the uniform. Ragna, Oli, Rhuad, and Anthony stood in the first line. Nathan leaned heavily onto his spear, right next to Andrew, a few feet away only. Oli sometimes glanced in their direction but didn¡¯t appear nervous at the proximity to the hunter who had shot him. His shoulder was still bandaged.


    David shuddered whenever he thought of the risk Nathan had taken, but seeing the boy standing there, he had to admit that it had been the right choice. He could only hope that he would never have to make that decision himself.


    Thankfully, George Louis kept his speech shorter than his courtly addresses. Eyal received the signed deeds for all of his men while the navvies cheered, and then Ensign Nitt steadied the still gravely injured Lieutenant Hugh so he could accept a commendation and the same deed in the name of his few surviving men. As George Louis shook the lieutenant¡¯s hand, the honour formation fired a three-volley salute for the fallen.


    It was, the cynical part of David¡¯s mind mused as the camera flashed over and over, a rather fine piece of propaganda. No doubt that the recruiting would pick up again once these pictures got around. They might even make it across the sea into the Empire. What soldier of the Grande Arm¨¦e could boast of ever shaking the Roi Solei¡¯s hand?


    It certainly seemed to mean a lot to Lieutenant Hugh and his men, many of whom would not be able to continue their service. Some of them were crying openly when Duke George Louis confirmed that they would receive land for their service in defeating the Rot-queens.


    The werewolves looked on.


    And then the show was over, and the servers from the roadhouse walked around pouring drinks on the duke¡¯s expenses. Likewise, Stokes senior and junior and the other merchants who had arrived at the camp had loaded up their vendor¡¯s trays to entice the audience to pay for their goods. Some of the werewolves looked with interest in their direction, then muttered amongst themselves.


    That, at least, was something David could do anything about. Thanks to Grooch, really. But at least he had a solution. He talked to the merchants to make sure they would play along, then headed over to where Greg was still standing with Pierre and his pack. Since most of them clearly weren¡¯t comfortable around him yet, he kept his distance and was surprised when Pierre went with Greg to approach him.


    ¡°I hear we have you to thank for the clothes,¡± the elder greeted him, looking somewhat sourly. ¡°The boots are nice.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to thank me for that, no,¡± David replied. ¡°I was wondering if there is anything the vendors have you would be interested in? If so, I have some vouchers here.¡±


    He offered Pierre one of the paper slips that Grooch had come up with. Each one was worth a silver, a monthly reward the werewolves called ¡°new moon special.¡± They could use them to pay for goods, and later the merchant could exchange them back for silver. So far, it only worked in those cities where werewolves were permanently stationed, since there needed to be someone to guarantee the exchanges to the merchants ¨C either the Railway Company or the army. But since David was here at the camp, he could just do that himself.


    Pierre examined the little piece of paper carefully. ¡°One silver. We can get goods worth one silver for this?¡±


    ¡°I brought a stack of those,¡± David said. ¡°So if you want them, I can get you each about five silver worth of vouchers.¡±


    ¡°I want some,¡± Greg said, before Pierre could make up his mind.


    David grinned and handed him about twenty of the paper slips. ¡°These are to share, but let me know if you need more.¡±

 Chapter 114

    The night before full moon saw a late cold snap that covered the budding leaves of the trees in frost. The frozen dead leaves crunched underneath David¡¯s feet as the four of them went for a very early morning walk ¨C Greg had woken them all before dawn when he had transformed in his sleep, stumbling over them in the small room they shared. One night later, and they would have been in huge trouble.


    Of course, if it had been the first night of full moon, Greg wouldn¡¯t have been asleep in their room.


    He was stomping ahead through the forest, cursing Pierre and the weather and his general life, by the sound of it.


    ¡°Annoying, meddlesome old sod,¡± David heard him grumble. ¡°Can¡¯t even let me sleep. I could be at Brines right now. With Thoko and the cubs. Sleep in a real bed, transform in a nice cosy basement, not this frozen hellscape. I hate those stupid cages. Bossy, bothersome old cur... curmudgeon...¡±


    Nathan sniggered at the litany, but David wondered how much of this was Greg¡¯s full moon irritability and how much of it was pent-up frustration.


    All the other werewolves had already transformed, roaming the forest. David had spotted three groups so far, Ragna with Rhuad, Anthony, and Oli, a couple of wolves not originally from Pierre¡¯s pack, and over there was a single she-wolf, Annabelle. Pierre himself or his pack stayed out of sight. Did the old man ever spare a thought for how hard his presence had to be on a werewolf as young as Greg? Everyone else in his pack was much, much older. They probably didn¡¯t lose control of their own body to the point where they changed shape just because the pack leader turned?


    Or did they? Morgulon had implied that Greg was better at ignoring an elder¡¯s powers. But surely, someone at Bernadette¡¯s age would still be more inured?


    Perhaps separating him from Pierre would be for Greg¡¯s own good? He could probably figure out a way to set him up with Bernadette again?


    David shook his head. He would have to ask Greg again once full moon was over, whether or not he really wanted to stay with Pierre¡¯s pack. Perhaps when they stopped at Brines. Maybe Morgulon could temper Pierre¡¯s influence a little. Or would having two elders that powerful in the same place only make it worse?


    And how would it affect the newly bitten werewolves at Deva Castle if he brought the pack there?


    ¡°Mithras¡¯ flaming torch, I just wanted one night of bloody sleep...¡± Greg stopped abruptly and turned back to his brothers. ¡°Where the hell are we?¡±


    ¡°At a best guess, about two miles west of the camp,¡± David replied. ¡°We haven¡¯t exactly followed a straight path. Want to go back?¡±


    Greg groaned and swung around in a full circle twice, before throwing up his hands and walking off almost due north. ¡°We¡¯re going to be late for breakfast!¡±


    ¡°You will if you keep going that way,¡± David called after him. ¡°I thought you can tell where the others are?¡±


    ¡°They are that way.¡± Greg stopped and pointed in the direction he had started in. ¡°I think.¡±


    ¡°Must be doing something down at the river,¡± Nathan commented. ¡°This way.¡±


    He used his walking-spear to push aside some low-hanging branches and set off towards the camp.


    ¡°Should¡¯ve brought food,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°Should¡¯ve stayed in camp. Should¡¯ve punched Pierre. What¡¯s he gotta go and transform in the middle of the night for? And why¡¯s it so cold suddenly?¡±


    He clearly didn¡¯t expect an answer, but Nathan called back from his new place in the lead: ¡°It¡¯s called weather.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s supposed to be spring!¡± Greg yelled back. ¡°Can¡¯t believe it snowed last night, might as well have stayed in the mountains... Should¡¯ve brought food. Real food,¡± he added, when Andrew reached into a pocket and offered him an apple. He took the fruit anyway.


    For a few minutes, the only sound was the crunch of Greg eating, until he tossed the core and stopped again in his tracks, staring towards the north. There was a deep frown on his face as he muttered: ¡°What are they doing over there?¡±


    ¡°Maybe they want to make sure the food arrives safely?¡±


    Sometimes later in the day, a shipment of life stock was supposed to reach the camp. David would have preferred to have it arrive yesterday, given that they had to feed fourteen werewolves over full moon, but the Lackland Company had assured him faster wouldn¡¯t be possible.


    As a result, breakfast was a little tense, to say the least. Mostly since there was not, strictly speaking, a lot of breakfast to be had.


    David skipped the meal altogether, simply passing his bowl to Greg. He stayed next to the kitchen to watch Nosson do the best he could with the few supplies he had left: Beans and oats. Nobody was happy with that ration, neither soldiers, nor navvies, nor werewolves who all returned for the meal.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to stand guard, your lordship,¡± Pierre growled. ¡°You don¡¯t really think this is the first breakfast for us that''s less than satisfying?¡±


    ¡°Who says I¡¯m worried about you?¡± David replied.


    Pierre, unfortunately, wasn¡¯t fooled. ¡°I¡¯m not that senile yet,¡± he grumbled, not quite glaring at David.


    ¡°Yet you are old enough to force Greg to change his shape even as he was asleep in the room. Which we so happen to share. While neither of us appreciates being woken in the middle of the night, I am fairly positive it was least pleasant for Greg. Perhaps, the next time you feel like taking a morning stroll, you might be bothered to not include him in the compulsion to transform?¡±


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    Pierre actually looked embarrassed at that. ¡°I ¨C am sorry about that. I hope nobody got hurt?¡±


    ¡°Asides from Greg staggering all over us? No, we didn¡¯t get hurt. He¡¯s got better control than that.¡±


    ¡°In that case, I will try to be more careful in the future.¡±


    David nodded. He almost left it at that, but there was something about the way Pierre phrased it ¨C or perhaps it was a side-effect of dealing with Clermont and the palace so much ¨C that made him call: ¡°Pierre?¡±


    He waited for the elder to turn and look at him, giving him a wide smile as he added: ¡°In case you ¨C or perhaps someone else around here ¨C were wondering just how good Greg¡¯s control is: We do sleep with our weapons at hand. If anyone makes me shoot my little brother, even if it¡¯s just a little, I¡¯ll make sure that person regrets it.¡±


    Pierre¡¯s only answer to that thinly veiled threat was a glare and a stiff nod.


    The next three days were tense, even though the food situation did improve once the shipment arrived: With the food came a flood of new workmen into the camp who had never dealt with werewolves before. It wasn¡¯t ideal to have them start on a full moon. Lieutenant Sears had at least visited the newly bitten ones in the cells at Deva, but he and his men had never been around elder ones either, or any that were running free. They had a hard time trusting the huge group to come to the prepared cages on time.


    David had, too, if he was perfectly honest. But you had to start somewhere.


    And the walls of the camp were repaired to the point where they could shoot any attacking werewolves safely from above. David had had all sixteen cages lined up on one side, so that he could see at a glance how the werewolves were locked up. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t just give David a better overview but also calm the werewolves a little if they could keep their whole pack in sight.


    Oli was already inside his cage, padded out with a lot more straw, and even a few blankets.


    Nathan and Andrew stood at David¡¯s sides, all three of them armed with their crossbows and silver, just in case.


    ¡°There they are,¡± Nathan said.


    Ragna, Anthony, and Rhuad were first to approach the waiting soldiers. Not Sears¡¯ men, but veterans who knew what they were doing. Ragna took the cage right next to Oli, and Rhuad flanked the boy from the other side. Another pack forming?


    Next was a single she-wolf, Annabelle. David hadn¡¯t seen her turn human once, much like Morgulon. Pierre¡¯s pack, including Greg, approached as soon as Annabelle was locked up, and a minute later came the last three: Laurent, Jerry, and May.


    David exhaled slowly as the last metal gates closed.


    ¡°About half an hour early,¡± Nathan commented with a glance at his fob watch. ¡°Nice and safe.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just hope tomorrow goes the same,¡± David commented.


    It mostly went fine. All sixteen werewolves had transformed during the night, and the next morning, there was a bit of an argument with some of the new workers who loudly clamoured that the wolves shouldn¡¯t be allowed to exit the cages at all until full moon was over. They quietened down when Oli turned human, still pale-faced.


    Greg didn¡¯t turn human, and neither did any of the other wolves, not until the third day, when it was finally over. That morning, they all transformed, and gladly accepted the water Eyal¡¯s men brought out so they could clean up before getting dressed.


    They stayed human for breakfast inside the repaired Great Hall, possibly because Nosson served a small feast. They were visibly tired, and David couldn¡¯t help but yawn himself.


    He barely even looked over when a strange werewolf sat down across from him. She took the seat right next to Andrew and stared at David while he finished his own meal, never saying anything.


    David was just about to ask for her name when he recognized her. She hadn¡¯t aged enough for her beautiful face not to be still recognizable. The only thing different about her was her eyes.


    Lady Annabelle.


    David couldn¡¯t help but gape at her.


    It couldn¡¯t be her. She was dead! George Louis had told everyone ¨C


    George Louis had lied.


    Of course he had lied.


    There was no doubt about it. Here sat the wife of Duke George Louis, the Duchess of Mannin, who had supposedly died four months after giving birth to Prince George.


    Not dead at all. A werewolf.


    Annabelle ducked her head nervously, fiddling with the hemline of the simple shirt. She was clearly waiting for a reaction from him, but David had no idea what to say.


    He rubbed his face with both hands and finally asked: ¡°Did Greg tell you that Duke George Louis is leading this rebellion? Or did you see him?¡±


    She twitched, nodded.


    ¡°David?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°Something wrong?¡±


    David stared at Annabelle, trying to figure out what he should say. Nathan seemed to have sensed that something was going on, because he was coming over. ¡°Problem?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a problem as such,¡± David finally said slowly. ¡°Annabelle here was ¨C is ¨C the wife of Duke George Louis.¡±


    Annabelle avoided his brothers¡¯ surprised stares, her jaws and throat working, but no words came out. With visible effort, she managed: ¡°He tell?¡±


    ¡°Did he tell anyone that you got bitten?¡± David shook his head. ¡°No. He claimed you died from a fever, a late complication of the birth.¡±


    Annabelle nodded wordlessly. She just stared down onto the table.


    ¡°Do you still want to help?¡± David asked. ¡°I can try to place you somewhere far away from Deva so you won¡¯t have to meet him ¨C unless you want to?¡±


    He had no idea how close she and George Louis had really been. Had they even liked each other? Cared for each other? It was a bit hard to imagine, given how much George Louis had supposedly cheated on her.


    There was another shrug and a long pause. ¡°My son?¡± Annabelle asked finally. ¡°Fine?¡±


    ¡°George is fine, yes,¡± David said. He rubbed the back of his neck. The prince was still bugging him that he wanted to meet ¡°real life werewolves,¡± every time he visited the castle. George Louis had forbidden him from visiting the newly bitten ones in the cells of Deva Castle. Would he allow the boy to meet his werewolf mother?


    ¡°George Louis is keeping him close,¡± David said aloud. ¡°He¡¯s at Deva with him.¡±


    Annabelle nodded. ¡°Deva.¡±


    ¡°You want to go to the city with the others?¡±


    She nodded again.


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think the duke is going to ¨C I don¡¯t know, make trouble?¡± Nathan asked.


    David laughed tiredly. ¡°When isn¡¯t George Louis making trouble? He put me in charge of all werewolves. Annabelle is old enough to count as an elder. If he doesn¡¯t like me hiring her, that¡¯s his own problem, not mine.¡±


    ¡°What if he tries to make it hers?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°Or if it becomes a point of contention politically?¡±


    The question was clearly on Annabelle¡¯s mind, too. David wished he could have promised her that he would deal with whatever was coming. Instead, he shrugged. ¡°Annabelle, do you want to become queen?¡±


    Annabelle gave David a withering look. He smiled.


    ¡°There you are. I don¡¯t see how it could become a point of contention at this point. Most people likely won¡¯t recognize her, and if she doesn¡¯t stake any claims... We only have to hope her family doesn¡¯t try to blame George Louis for what happened. That might get messy.¡±


    A husband was supposed to protect his wife, after all. If Annabelle¡¯s parents tried to make a case that he had neglected to do so ¨C but they would deal with that when it happened.


    He owed George an apology, didn¡¯t he? For insinuating that he had killed his wife with his own hands?


    Damn.

 Chapter 115

    ¡°Miss! Miss werewolf! May we have a word? And take your picture?¡±


    David flinched when the journalists came hurrying over. Mulley and Dawson had been wildly successful with their reports, and other journalists wanted a piece of the cake. These were some of the new ones.


    Nathan blocked their advance by holding out his spear. He didn¡¯t point it at them, but the message was clear.


    Annabelle took one look at the journalists and fled, taking off clothes as she went. But, to David¡¯s amazement, she came back just minutes later in her wolf shape. A yawning R¨¦my followed her.


    ¡°I¡¯m told you need a translator,¡± he said, looking at the table full of reporters. Greg had mentioned that R¨¦my quite liked the attention of the press, who promptly crowded around. Some journalists still complained that they wanted to hear from their interview partners directly rather than trusting an interpreter, but the majority of them didn¡¯t care. David suspected that it wasn¡¯t all that important to them whether or not their stories were strictly true. The papers had always played up the horror and gore aspects of their werewolf pieces, because a grisly murder simply sold better than a wolf that got quietly shot in the woods before they ever harmed anyone. And talking to an ¡°innocent¡± werewolf ¨C one that hadn¡¯t been given the choice between the rope and the bite ¨C meant there was always an attack to write about, only with an added ¡°happy end.¡±


    R¨¦my introduced Annabelle without mentioning her full name, while strongly hinting that she had been from a lower noble house. He was good at staying vague but keeping it interesting, and it helped him frame the rest of Annabelle¡¯s story. David listened and saw the pieces fall into place.


    Annabelle had been a young mother. It had been late spring, the nights mild, and her little boy wouldn¡¯t sleep. She could have handed him over to a nurse to handle him while she went to bed, but instead, she had decided to go for an evening ride. The baby was inconsolable and she had been restless herself. Vexed with her husband. It had been half moon, and the grounds were supposed to be safe.


    David could see where the story was going quite plainly. Half moon, a late evening ride.


    Safe grounds? He shook his head. There was always a spreader where you least expected them. Like Desmarais'' lands. David had no idea if it was magic or something else, but they had a talent for staying hidden right until they went onto their mad sprees of biting every human soul in sight.


    The only part he hadn¡¯t expected was that George Louis had been there.


    Her husband found her before she had made it out the gates. He offered to take the baby, tried to apologize for embarrassing her. She didn¡¯t want to hear it, rode ahead. Not far. Just enough that he would have had to shout his apology for all to hear. Not that there was anyone else. And he still didn¡¯t. So she rode ahead, just a few yards.


    He had nearly caught up with her when the werewolf jumped her. She had been sure she was dead, then. Had been relieved that she hadn¡¯t been holding the baby.


    She had thought her husband would run off. Instead, he had shot the werewolf, making it flee. Then he had taken her home, had made a doctor take care of her injuries. Saving her from bleeding to death.


    And then he let her go.


    The journalists wanted her husband¡¯s name, of course, but Annabelle simply walked out on them. Who was going to stop a wolf as big as a pony? R¨¦my claimed that it was hard to translate names and that he didn¡¯t want to get it wrong. After all, the name might cause a bit of a scandal, right?


    David nearly choked on his drink at that last comment. He spent the rest of the day wondering whether or not he should send a telegram to Deva, but ultimately decided against it. They hadn''t agreed on a code for ¡°by the way, I just met your dead wife¡± and he didn¡¯t want to entrust this knowledge to the servants manning the telegraph at Deva.


    Not before he had talked to George Louis.


    He still sent a bunch of messages.


    ***


    When they reached First Camp three days later, Greg couldn¡¯t help but gape. There were people lining the street! Hundreds of people! All the way from the new, finished bridge to the gates, they were cheering as the pack walked past. How were there this many people here?


    All the other werewolves were staring at him, to see if this was something to be expected. Greg kept shaking his head. He didn¡¯t want to tell them that it used to be fairly normal for David, Andrew, and Nathan to be welcomed this way after successful hunts.


    Most of the others hurried to get past the commotion, but R¨¦my was prancing, and Greg thought Alister would have been, too, if it hadn¡¯t been for Pierre on his back. The elder was the only one of them looking human.


    When they reached the railway station of the camp, there was a train waiting for them. As Greg tried to convince the other werewolves that it was safe to get into the waggon, the journalists from the crowd tried to take the opportunity to board right with them. Nathan had to stop some of them by blocking him with his spear.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said with a grin that showed quite clearly that he wasn¡¯t sorry at all, ¡°but you lot aren¡¯t invited on this trip.¡±


    David jumped out of the saddle and tossed Andrew the reins, before spreading his arms wide. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, I can answer some of your questions while we wait for the train to leave. Please leave the werewolves alone, they have travelled all the way from the wilds of the Argentum Formation to be here in time to fight an army of the Rot. They do not wish to answer questions right now.¡±


    That did buy them some room. Nathan dropped out of his saddle a tad less elegantly than his older brother and planted his feet half a step behind him, leaning on his spear in a perfectly non-threatening manner.


    ¡°Right,¡± Andrew said, ¡°let¡¯s get everyone inside while they¡¯re distracted?¡±


    Annabelle walked past him promptly and jumped up into one of the open waggon gates. She was a lot less ¨C timid ¨C since her secret had come out. The other wolves followed her, still nervous. Greg brought up the rear, while Andrew took the horses into the next waggon, which had a ramp, and then joined them.


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    David and Nathan stayed outside right until the whistle blew and then quickly ducked inside. Nathan cursed when the whole waggon jerked and he nearly lost his balance.


    ¡°No seats? Great.¡±


    ¡°There should be passenger compartments up front,¡± David replied.


    But Nathan was already lowering himself down to the floor.


    ¡°You guys are all right?¡± David asked the pack. ¡°Good. This train will go straight to Brines, without stopping in Eoforwic, so hopefully, we won¡¯t have to deal with all the press again.¡±


    He seemed to notice Greg¡¯s confused expression, because he added: ¡°I had this transport arranged for us through the company so we wouldn¡¯t have to change trains.¡±


    Your brother can just do that? Alister asked.


    Greg shook himself, just as surprised, and looking at David. How much power had George Louis given him?


    This is getting stranger every day, Gertrude grumbled.


    I liked it, Remy said. Never had a parade thrown for me before.


    That was hardly a parade, Pierre groused. And yes. This was strange.


    Still nice, Laurent said.


    Damn. So this is where you grew up, Greg? R¨¦my asked and stopped, when the house at Brines came into view just a bit over an hour later. So did the rest of the pack.


    Greg shook his head. I mostly grew up at the house at Deva.


    Really. How many houses does your family have?


    This is the third, but it¡¯s new. Let¡¯s go?


    Andrew was just reaching the door but stopped to let Thoko run through first. She paused at the sight of the pack, so Greg pushed past Alister. Once she spotted him, she stormed onwards to hug him for a long time.


    ¡°I¡¯m so glad to have you back,¡± she whispered.


    Greg leaned into her arms. He would have been perfectly happy to stay there for a while, but R¨¦mi next to him wined softly. Greg sighed and looked up.


    His father had stepped outside and was walking towards them. So Greg pressed his nose into Thoko¡¯s ear, making her squirm, and went to greet him before the pack panicked.


    ¡°Hello, Greg,¡± Bram said. He stopped a few yards away from Greg, apparently unsure how to greet him. Greg just kept going, bumping his head into his father¡¯s chest.


    Bram gasped softly. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you, too,¡± he said.


    At least the pack was relaxing a little, which had been the whole point.


    ¡°This is Pierre,¡± Thoko said, introducing the elder who had climbed down from Alister¡¯s back. ¡°This is Baron Bram Feleke. He doesn¡¯t bite.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Thoko,¡± he said wryly. ¡°No, I do not bite. Or shoot.¡±


    He raised his empty hands to prove the point. ¡°You are welcome to come inside.¡±


    ¡°If you prefer not to,¡± David took over, ¡°we can arrange a dry spot for you in the stables from where you will be free to come and go. I only ask you to stay near the house, as an unaccompanied werewolf in the village might cause some concerns.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Pierre said, sounding a bit sourly.


    Greg decided it was probably best if he just went ahead. He could see his mother peaking out of the front door. She hugged him, and Greg jumped up the stairs to his room to change and get dressed. There was water ready for him to wash himself, too. He was just getting into his shoes when R¨¦my and Leo walked in.


    ¡°It¡¯s getting harder and harder to believe who your family is,¡± R¨¦my complained before Greg could get over his surprise. ¡°Look at this!¡±


    ¡°Looks like shoes?¡± Greg ventured, confused by this invasion.


    ¡°Yes! Your family is giving us clothes? Shoes? Just like that?¡±


    ¡°Yes? David had clothes for you arrange at the camp, right? I don¡¯t see how this is different?¡±


    ¡°How this is different?!¡± R¨¦my threw his hands into the air, almost hitting Leo with the shoes. ¡°Those were uniforms! Not something he had to personally pay for!¡±


    ¡°I thought Pierre was a little crazy taking us here,¡± Leo said, more calmly. ¡°But this is really nice.¡±


    Greg grimaced. ¡°Might not be as nice everywhere,¡± he warned them. ¡°But my family won¡¯t ¨C they¡¯ll try to help where they can.¡±


    He walked past them, waiting impatiently for them to follow so he could close the door. He left them standing on the landing and hurried downstairs to the sitting room. Estelle and Alister hadn¡¯t turned human and were already here: not quite pressed against the wall, but certainly not relaxed. Lane sat on the couch closest to the nest, pretending to read. Bram, likewise, was purposefully keeping a non-threatening pose in one of the chairs. R¨¦my and Leo still leaned against the walls with the others.


    Greg hugged Thoko properly, now that he had arms to do so, and then his mother, too. He ignored the tension between the werewolves and the hunter in the room; he had more important things on his mind. Morgulon¡¯s nest was still in the same spot. He felt the elder¡¯s will charging the air, but it wasn¡¯t aimed at him right now.


    She greeted him with a low snuffling sound when he dropped to his knees right in front of the blankets, staring down at the cubs. They had changed both more and less than he had thought ¨C certainly, they didn¡¯t age like normal wolf cubs, or they would have all been chasing each other around the room by now. But did human babies normally change this fast? One of his daughters was smiling at him around the thumb she was sucking! His other girl was happily swinging a little rattle.


    The other three were in their wolf shapes. One was fast asleep, but the other two had a piece of leather in their mouths. Greg could see some tiny, tiny teeth and neither of them could quite stand, even on their four feet. Still, they were playing a spirited game of tug-of-war, which ended just as Greg sat down a little more comfortable with both of them toppling over.


    Had Morgulon given them names yet?


    ¡°We ¨C well, I have been calling them Almaz and Hewan,¡± Imani said, when Greg voiced the question. ¡°After your grandmothers. But if you want to name them differently, I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll be an issue.¡±


    Greg whispered the names softly to himself. Would he have picked something different? But really, those were good names. He had fond memories of grandma Hewan.


    His mother kneeled down next to him, picking up the little one sucking on her thumb. ¡°This is Almaz,¡± she said softly. ¡°This is Hewan.¡±


    The little girl with the rattle actually looked in their direction when Imani said the name.


    ¡°You¡¯re staying for a bit now, aren¡¯t you?¡± Imani went on, placing little Almaz into his lab. ¡°If David is making you run around the mountains again...¡±


    She trailed off, grabbing his shoulder. ¡°Greg, what happened to your neck?!¡±


    At his mother¡¯s cry, Thoko crowded around from the other side. Greg hunched up his shoulders when they both leaned in to look closer at his new scars.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Thoko asked again.


    Greg cradled little Almaz closer and began to tell the story of how he and Lee had found the wrong pack in the mountains. He was about halfway through when Pierre walked in. Greg didn¡¯t even have to turn around to know when the elder spotted his father again. The force of the elder¡¯s worry nearly made him get up.


    For the first time, Morgulon moved: she planted her forelegs wide and half-rose. She made no sound yet Greg felt suddenly cut off from Pierre. It was both a relief and disconcerting, but he finished his story.


    It¡¯s nice outside, Morgulon said when he fell silent. Want to see them roll over the lawn?


    ¡°Yes,¡± Greg said. ¡°Yes, let¡¯s take them outside.¡±


    He jumped to his feet before anyone could try and stop him. He had no idea how Morgulon would get the cubs outside, but she simply padded off the blankets, gripped the edge, and dragged the whole nest over to the door. It was clearly a maneuver they had done before because Thoko hurried ahead and opened it.


    A minute later, the cubs were rolling and stumbling around in the grass, clumsily swatting at the first butterflies. Greg sunk down to the ground again and let the cubs lick his hands. Later, both his daughters fell asleep in his lap.

 Chapter 116

    It was good to be home, even if it was a home he had only ever stayed in for a couple of weeks. The first morning after sleeping in a real bed, in a room of his own, Greg just lay there for a while, to let the feeling sink in, the luxury of the soft linens, the sounds of the house, the smell of breakfast. He had missed this so much: Three decent meals a day, fresh clothes, a roof above his head ¨C to not having to worry about where all those things came from day to day. Just a little bit of comfort and security.


    He would have been happy to simply stay at the house at Brines with its generous garden, but to his surprise, more than just the railroad camps had changed. He could go into the village anytime he wanted, and even Eoforwic was easing up on the ¡°no werewolves without a hunter¡± rule. Bram had to accompany them so the guards would let them off the train, but he didn¡¯t have to chaperone them once they were inside the city. Even Pierre took the opportunity, to visit a church of all places. Everyone else was more interested in visiting the markets. Most of the pack still had some of the paper vouchers David had given them, which the merchants of Eoforwic were happy to accept.


    ¡°We get another one on new moon, right?¡± Leo asked, playing with his three remaining vouchers.


    ¡°I think so,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Why, you saving up for something special?¡± R¨¦my asked.


    ¡°Na, just wondering.¡±


    Greg had more money to spend, of course, but most of the time, he just stayed home. The mild spring weather held, so every day he went outside to play with his daughters and their siblings on the lawn. He couldn¡¯t stop smiling at their antics. Almaz made the best grimaces, and Hewan would laugh every time someone turned her on her stomach. Then she promptly rolled over onto her back again for the game to repeat.


    As the moon waned, the other cubs turned human as well. One baby boy in particularly ¨C Morgulon didn¡¯t seem to be in a hurry to name her little ones ¨C had a hard time coming to terms with the changes in his anatomy and tried to rob over the grass the same way he did in his wolf shape. He complained quite loudly when his body didn¡¯t work the same way.


    Morgulon rolled her eyes and pushed him back onto the blankets he had managed to push himself off.


    Greg grinned and then sighed. This felt like a holiday, and he wasn¡¯t too eager to go to Deva, now that he had seen how nice it was at Brines. Morgulon was actually willing to take the cubs into the city, provided she could stay at the townhouse.


    There wouldn¡¯t be enough space there for the whole pack.


    And is that good or bad? Morgulon asked.


    ¡°You know, I don¡¯t even know anymore,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°I liked staying with the pack in the mountains. Now...¡±


    He could feel how Pierre was pulling on him right now, to get him away from his daughters, go into Eoforwic with the rest of them. Morgulon didn¡¯t want him close to her cubs, so Pierre avoided the garden when she was there. Greg just wished the elder would leave him alone for a bit. At least it was entirely his decision to stay or go right now, since he was sitting next to Morgulon. Or was it?


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    He tried to relax, let his mind wander a bit, figure out his own feelings. After a few minutes he was fairly certain that yes, this desire to spent as much time with his babies as possible was all him. The wolf even agreed.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t I feel you?¡± he asked, looking over to Morgulon. ¡°I mean, why don¡¯t you have a pack? Why is there no ¨C no pull to follow you everywhere?¡±


    Morgulon ran her tail through the grass like a scythe. It¡¯s not right, she said. Pushing a child like that.


    Greg glared at her. ¡°I¡¯m nineteen, you know.¡±


    Morgulon tilted her head at him. In mind and body, yes. But in magic? You¡¯re as weak as a toddler.


    She shook herself when Greg didn¡¯t protest again. None of this ¨C I think none of this is the way it¡®s supposed to be. A werewolf your age ¨C should be a baby. A literal child. They should be protected by their parents, who would be my age, or Laurent¡¯s at the very least. By the time they would be old enough to leave their family, start one of their own, they would be like Rust or Alister: Mostly independent even in the presence of someone like Pierre.


    She shook herself again. You shouldn¡¯t have been there, she went on. And I am sorry for getting you caught up in all this.


    ¡°You said that,¡± Greg muttered, staring at his daughters, lying side by side in the sun. His mother had sewn their clothes with her own hands. They gurgled happily as a big, fat bumblebee passed by just above their heads.


    And yes, he was still a little angry ¨C not even angry. Shaken. By how it had all occurred. By the fact that he was a father and had no memory of how it had happened. But he had had all winter to think about it, and at least the shock had worn off by now.


    ¡°You know what?¡± he went on, ¡°I don¡¯t even care anymore. I had no choice in any of the stuff that¡¯s been happening ever since I got bitten, and I don¡¯t want them ¨C they aren¡¯t a mistake.¡±


    Morgulon nodded slowly.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t really answer my question,¡± Greg came back to his original point. ¡°Why am I not pulled to you, given that I ¨C am a toddler as far as magic goes?¡±


    An adult shouldn¡¯t have power over another adult in the same way Pierre has power over you.


    ¡°But you do have that same power,¡± Greg grumbled. ¡°So why can¡¯t I feel it?¡±


    Morgulon huffed. Because I know how not to bleed magic all over the place.


    She rolled onto her side, stretching out her long legs and resting her head on the ground.


    It¡¯s a matter of control. And effort. Pierre doesn¡¯t think there even is an issue with the power imbalance. In his world, there¡¯s nothing wrong with bossing people around. He used to be a priest, he is used to being surrounded by impressionable souls a fraction of his age. I¡¯m sure he could control his influence. But he¡¯d have to want to.


    Greg considered all that. ¡°So you¡¯re saying you are alone because everyone in your pack would be, uh, under your control? But you also said that someone in Alister¡¯s or Rust¡¯s age would be independent?¡±


    I have no pack because I never wanted one. A family, now, that¡¯s different... She trailed off. Do you want to go to Deva?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I haven¡¯t asked David yet how it would be if we went. I¡¯m not even sure he knows, you know? There are no ¨C no free werewolves in the city, right now, so there¡¯s really no telling how people would react to us.¡±


    If it was like Eoforwic, where the merchants were happy to sell goods to the werewolves ¨C if there was a way to be sure he wouldn¡¯t be confined to the house... He liked the townhouse in Deva, but it didn¡¯t have a garden as big as the one they were currently relaxing in, and sitting around inside all summer wasn¡¯t his idea of a good time. Especially now that the cubs were getting a bit more mobile. They would probably be able to crawl even in their human forms come summer, wouldn¡¯t they?


    He hadn¡¯t heard back from Gustave, either, but David had said that there was a stack of mail waiting at the house for each of them, so he had some hope.


    Ask your brother.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±


    Greg wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on top of them, then held his hand out for one of the cubs to sniff.


    He didn¡¯t want this break to end.

 Chapter 117

    The smallest and most infamous of the fencing rooms at Deva Castle was usually a quiet place. Duels didn¡¯t happen here, only practise bouts, which drew no audience. It was an unspoken agreement between the men training here that they were all preparing for the real thing, not to make themselves look good. If they did fight, it would be to the finish: until either side surrendered, was unable to continue the fight, or dead.


    Generally, the men who worked out here were, while noble, barely considered gentlemen. And though there had been an influx of outsiders trying to get a look at Duke George Louis¡¯s right hand when David had first started practising here, they had since mostly drifted away again.


    The other lords currently working out were therefore not particularly happy when David suddenly attracted a new kind of audience: Three young ladies in flowery dresses walked in. They looked around, faces half-hidden behind their brightly decorated little fans as if they were scared of their own daring at entering the infamous place. When all the men turned to stare at them, they stopped in their tracks and hesitated.


    David groaned softly.


    ¡°Young ladies,¡± Lord Bloom broke the silence. ¡°This is hardly appropriate. For your own safety, I have to insist you to leave this place.¡±


    One of them curtsied. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure Lord Feleke will keep us quite safe.¡±


    The girl smiled sweetly and batted her long, kohl-blackened eyelashes at David. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something a gentleman shouldn¡¯t ever say to a lady¡¯s face.


    The other men promptly glared at him, so after a second, he sheathed his sword and approached the three belles. With a bow, he asked: ¡°If you would allow me to accompany you back to the main halls?¡±


    ¡°Such gallantry,¡± one of the girls stage-whispered.


    ¡°How unexpected to find it here of all places,¡± the other one whispered back, again, not really bothering to be quiet.


    David shuddered. Lane had warned him that everything at Deva Castle was political. He just hadn¡¯t expected this to include even young girls who pretended to be silly and giggly. But perhaps it applied especially to them?


    He couldn¡¯t wait for Lane to come to Deva.


    The one who had spoken first took the arm he had offered her and with a triumphant smile at the rest of the men, walked out again. She was clearly quite good at this game, for all that she couldn¡¯t be more than eighteen: Somehow, she managed to give the appearance of leaning on David, while not really giving him a choice regarding the direction they were going.


    One of her friends linked her arm with his free one.


    ¡°May I inquire after your names, my ladies?¡± David asked.


    ¡°I am Lady Berenice Pettau, Lord Feleke. And these are my friends, Lady Charlotte de Burg and Lady Anne Picot.¡±


    David groaned inwardly. Picot, for all that her father was Lord Warden of Breachpoint, was the lowest ranking of the three.


    What on earth did they want with him?


    ¡°I¡¯m most honoured, Mesdemoiselles,¡± he lied. ¡°Perhaps I could trouble you to tell me where we are going?¡±


    ¡°Why, to the arena, of course,¡± Lady Pettau informed him, as if that were obvious. ¡°Count deVale claims you have been avoiding him since he returned from the south. The betting pool is getting quite large.¡±


    ¡°The betting...¡± David trailed off. Of course there was a betting pool. Lane and he had caused quite a stir, after all. And for all that Lane liked to call him spineless, deVale wasn¡¯t known to back away from a fight even when it was more prudent to do so.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, on your honour,¡± Lady de Burg said, ¡°have you been avoiding the count?¡±


    David sighed. ¡°I would prefer not to hurt a man who stood with the dukes of Loegrion against the High Inquisitor.¡±


    He could see all three of them smile at that as if he had made a joke.


    Lady Pettau patted the arm she was hanging onto and changed the topic. ¡°Is it true that one of your brothers was bitten more than a year before Duke Stuard lifted the general warrant on werewolves?¡±


    ¡°That is true, yes, milady.¡±


    ¡°But wasn¡¯t it your duty as a hunter to kill any werewolf you knew of?¡±


    He answered her innocent smile with a frosty one. ¡°Milady, I would happily face the Rot again and the whole Inquisition before I¡¯d hurt one of my brothers. Werewolf or not.¡±


    He had no idea who had prompted these young ladies to drag him away from his sword-practise, but he wouldn¡¯t mind if the whole palace learned this much.


    ¡°What if he had turned out dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Happily, that question never arose.¡±


    ¡°Is it true that you killed High Inquisitor d¡¯Evier with your very own hands?¡±


    ¡°On the contrary, milady, I used a sword.¡±


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    He probably shouldn¡¯t make bad jokes about the matter, but he had been asked these questions way too often. Andrew, or even Greg, might have known a more gallant way to handle the ladies¡¯ curiosity, but he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Is that what you intend to do to Count deVale?¡±


    ¡°As I said, I would prefer not to hurt him.¡±


    ¡°He is a very good duellist, you know,¡± Lady Pettau mentioned. ¡°He competes a lot and wins most of his matches, too. How many duels have you fought in?¡±


    David really wanted to pull his arm away from her. ¡°These days, I rarely compete,¡± he admitted after a moment with a half-shrug. ¡°If I fight, it¡¯s usually not for sports.¡±


    ¡°But you haven¡¯t been to war, before Oldstone Castle.¡±


    ¡°No, milady. Mostly, I used to fight Highwaymen. Sometimes other hunters. And now the Valoise.¡±


    ¡°Other hunters?¡± all three girls shrieked. ¡°Why?¡±


    David sighed. ¡°Contrary to what the fame of Countess deLande and the history of House Feleke would have you believe, very few people turn to hunting werewolves while they have better options. High bounties can be quite hotly contested, especially on solitary werewolves. It was not uncommon for us to get attacked after a kill by angry or desperate competitors. Likewise, Highwaymen are interested in the bounties but generally prefer to save themselves the trouble of dealing with the werewolves.¡±


    He lengthened his strides a little, hoping to distract the ladies in their elaborate dresses. Unfortunately, this just meant they reached the corridors around the arena faster.


    ¡°Ah, you found him, ladies! Excellent!¡±


    David almost collided with Marquess Picot as he rounded the next corner. The marquess smiled widely when he saw him. Lady de Burg let go of David¡¯s left arm at the older man¡¯s appearance, but Lady Pettau clearly didn¡¯t intend to release him just yet.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, the man everybody is looking for! Count deVale is cussing a blue streak, calling you a coward and worse! You aren¡¯t going to let that stand, are you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I have a choice at this point, do I?¡± David asked back surly.


    Of course Picot was involved in this. The man was famous for being more interested in the grander or smaller court dramas than the affairs of his city.


    ¡°So you have been avoiding deVale?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s worried he¡¯ll hurt the count,¡± Lady Pettau said sweetly before David could. She clearly didn¡¯t believe him.


    Great. Now he had better win, or people would think he was just a coward. Hurt deVale at least a little bit.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go soft on us just now,¡± Picot said, clapping David on the shoulder. ¡°You are up to this challenge, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a foolish challenge,¡± David grumbled. ¡°But let¡¯s get it over with.¡±


    ¡°Splendid!¡±


    They had almost reached the arena. David could hear an excited murmur echoing along the hall. By the sound of it, the arena was packed.


    ¡°You look troubled, Lord Feleke,¡± Lady Pettau teased.


    David ignored her. He was mentally preparing for the duel. It had been a while since he had seen deVale in the pit, and as he had told the three belles, he rarely fought with the aim to simply cause the first wound.


    Maybe he should just run deVale through and be done with it.


    The count had never done anything to him personally, though, and he had stood with George Louis, even fought in the south recently. It seemed a little crass to kill him just because he wouldn¡¯t take Lane¡¯s No for an answer. Or had he ever hurt her beyond ignoring her will? Not that that wasn¡¯t bad enough. But Lane hadn¡¯t actually asked David to do anything about it?


    And why bring this up again now?


    There was the man himself: deVale was alone in the centre of the fighting pit, pacing up and down with a sword already in hand, which he was swinging in wild agitation. He had taken off his jacket and waistcoat, and his prim, starched white shirt showed dark sweat stains in the back.


    All around, the seats of the arena were packed with lords and ladies, both young and old rather than just the eligible hopefuls who usually gathered here. Commoners in the robes of the palace staff stood at the very back.


    David frowned. Something weird was going on here. Surely, this squabble between him and deVale couldn¡¯t be that fascinating that half the palace had turned out to watch? Especially since it had been nearly nine months since he had ¡°won¡± the right to court Lane?


    Lady Pettau gave him another sickly-sweet smile. ¡°I do hope you don¡¯t mind an audience, Lord Feleke.¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡± David searched the ranks for George Louis, and sure enough, there he was, leaning against the ring. When he saw David and his entourage, he started in their direction.


    ¡°I fought in plenty of tournaments when I was younger,¡± David added. ¡°I used to be rather good at the jousting.¡±


    ¡°Used to send His Highness flying every time!¡± Picot chuckled helpfully, loud enough that George Louis could hardly pretend to overhear it.


    ¡°Quite true, Marquess Picot, quite true,¡± the duke said. ¡°If I may have a private word with the Honourable Feleke?¡±


    David very nearly shook out his arm when Lady Pettau finally let go of him. Instead, he turned the motion into a sweeping bow. It didn¡¯t even earn him an eye roll.


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re aware that deVale is a rather important supporter of our cause,¡± George Louis said, voice lowered only a little.


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°So don¡¯t kill him, please. If you have to, throw the match. We all know it won¡¯t make Countess deLande change her mind.¡±


    David stared at the duke. That had very much sounded like an order, and spoken loud enough that his entourage waiting not far away had probably heard.


    David took a small step forward.


    ¡°Are you trying to give me an excuse in case I lose?¡± he asked, surprised and insulted, voice pitched so low that George Louis had to lean in.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to keep you alive,¡± the duke replied through clenched teeth. ¡°I don¡¯t know who¡¯s been whispering to him, but deVale is furious.¡±


    ¡°How sweet of you,¡± David grumbled.


    ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate him!¡± George Louis hissed back. ¡°DeVale is dangerous when he gets angry! And he¡¯s an excellent fighter! Why do you think he promised to challenge anyone who dared court deLande?¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m what, weak tea?¡±


    ¡°Overconfident is what you are,¡± the duke growled. ¡°Just be careful!¡±


    David straightened up. It hurt, more than he cared to admit, that George Louis of all people didn¡¯t think he could take on deVale, a man who had fought far less than David. At least if one only counted serious fights.


    George Louis seemed to realize that he had made a mistake, because he warned: ¡°Do not kill him just to prove a point.¡±


    David wanted to, he really did, and it scared him a little. He had never been this blood-thirsty before. George Louis shouldn¡¯t be able to get a rise out of him this easily. He shouldn¡¯t give a damn what the duke thought of him.


    He took a few deep breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, to fight down his emotions just as his father had taught him ages ago. He needed to be calm for this fight, all the more so if even George Louis thought deVale might best him. Had the count truly improved that much? He hadn¡¯t been too much of an opponent back when they had last fought.


    Admittedly, that had been half a decade ago.


    David looked over towards where deVale was still pacing up and down. He had to be very sure of himself: the only protection he wore were his leather gloves. His clothes would allow for ease of movement, though. His sword was an actual sword, quite similar to David¡¯s own, not one of the Valoisian epees.


    So they probably wouldn¡¯t be fighting for first blood alone.


    That went against the current fashion, and David thought that it suited him more than deVale. He shrugged out of his own jacket and waistcoat, and took off his tie, too. Lastly, he handed George Louis the amulet the duke had gifted him.


    DeVale glared at him when he finally stepped into the ring.

 Chapter 118

    ¡°Lord Feleke,¡± Duke Desmarais addressed him. He was the lord of the manor, and as such the natural authority to preside over the duel. It still surprised David that he had been roused to act as the judge for what should be a minor grudge match.


    ¡°You have been challenged by Count William deVale to a duel of honour,¡± Desmarais went on, speaking to David and the audience at once. ¡°You are accused of cheating in the race for Countess deLande¡¯s favour. Do you accept the challenge?¡±


    David glared at deVale. This was news to him. He was accused of what? Cheating? Why, because he could tell a lynx apart from a fox?


    The crowd jeered. No wonder that they had turned out in such numbers. This was a serious accusation. And George Louis wanted him to forfeit the match? Allow deVale to call him a cheater?


    No way.


    ¡°I accept the challenge.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Your choice of arms?¡± Desmarais went on.


    ¡°The sword.¡±


    At David¡¯s answer, deVale brandished his own blade again.


    ¡°Your second, Lord Feleke?¡±


    George Louis stepped forward before the other duke had finished asking. ¡°I will act as his second.¡±


    Desmarais frowned, but nodded. ¡°Duke Stuard,¡± he said, ¡°Lord Carter.¡±


    He waved to the noble standing at deVale¡¯s side, who looked at his principal rather nervously. At deVale¡¯s nod, the man stepped forward. David was fairly certain that he had never met the guy.


    ¡°Seconds, inspect the opponents weapons now.¡±


    David somewhat reluctantly handed over his sword to Carter, who made a show of inspecting the blade, even running a white handkerchief over it. As if David might have poisoned the blade. George Louis glanced over at deVale before doing the same.


    What was going on here? DeVale was an idiot, fine, but he was known as a man of honour. Did George Louis truly think the count might resort to poison to kill David? Or was he just trying to show that he took his role seriously?


    Desmarais made both seconds show him the handkerchiefs.


    Maybe this was just normal procedure? It hadn¡¯t been when David competed as a young man, but maybe things had changed since then? How many people had de Clare killed?


    David shook his head and focused on loosening his muscles rather than watching. By the time George Louis returned with his arms, he was ready for the fight.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± the duke warned him again.


    David didn¡¯t answer. Desmarais was calling them all together.


    ¡°Lord Feleke,¡± the older duke addressed him, ¡°Count deVale demands a fight to the finish.¡±


    A hush fell over the whole arena at those words.


    ¡°Because of the severity of the accusation levied, I¡¯m minded to allow this. Provided you agree.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡±


    Desmarais nodded and looked from the David to George Louis, to the count and his second. Desmarais¡¯s face was grave. Gone was the pretence of the amiable grandfather when he went on:


    ¡°Very well. Then a fight to the finish it is. However. This duel will settle only the matter of whether or not Lord Feleke cheated at the race for Countess deLande¡¯s favour. The countess¡¯s decision on the courtship remains her own. Nor will I allow further duels to avenge the death of the losing party. Your seconds are here only to ensure a fair fight. Any man starting a feud over this will be judged accordingly.¡±


    Desmarais looked at David again, who nodded. Maybe it was a good thing that Nathan wouldn¡¯t be fighting for a while.


    But he didn¡¯t intend to die in any case.


    With the formalities finished, Duke Desmarais stepped to the side of the ring. He pulled a small piece of blood red silk out of his breast pocket and held it in his outstretched hand.


    ¡°Duellists, take your positions,¡± he ordered. ¡°On my mark.¡±


    David raised his sword to a guard position as deVale took the spot furthest from him in the pit. If nothing else, all the decorum had made David careful. He couldn¡¯t mess this up. One-legged or not, Nathan would not let this rest if he managed to get himself killed. Greg still needed his protection.


    DeVale moved forwards as soon as the duke dropped the silk. David stepped sideways. He wanted to get a measure of the count first, find out whether or not George Louis¡¯s worry was justified.


    The crowd was clearly favouring deVale ¨C possibly because David was a stranger, or perhaps because they truly believed he had somehow cheated while hunting the lynx. David would have loved to claim that he didn¡¯t care what they thought, but the accusation rankled quite a bit. He had hunted werewolves all his life, and these people seriously thought he needed to resort to dishonourable means to kill a bloody cat?


    Sun burn him, he¡¯d show them.


    Slowly, though, careful.


    DeVale came at him with a lunge and a straight thrust right out of the text-book. David parried the attack, but it proved that the count was quicker than David had expected. His footwork was quite excellent, too. David disengaged his blade and stepped back, which made deVale growl: ¡°Come on, fight, you coward!¡±


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    When David didn¡¯t react to his taunt, he moved in with a flurry of attacks, nearly pushing David up to the low barrier surrounding the arena. Yes, he was fast. He was also very angry, and maybe less careful than he should be.


    David circled around the arena, mostly just parrying the furious attacks, with a riposte thrown in now and then just to keep the count mad. He was quite happy to let the idiot tire himself out with his fruitless attacks. When deVale¡¯s first anger was subsiding, David smirked at him and began to exaggerate his footwork, just as he had done with George Louis while teaching his son.


    DeVale had grown more careful, though. He didn¡¯t attack with wild abandon again, only growled: ¡°Is this a joke to you, Lord Feleke?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quite amusing, yes,¡± David lied. DeVale was sweating already. ¡°You have never fought to the finish before, have you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a killer!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it as a compliment then, that I managed to make you so mad you abandoned that credo.¡±


    ¡°You cheated ¨C¡°


    David lunged. The idiot parried, but it had been a feint anyway. David disengaged the bind and attacked again. The count just barely managed to stumble out of his range.


    David calmly put a few feet of distance between them and began to circle the pit again.


    ¡°You do realize that I have been hunting all my life, don¡¯t you?¡± he asked. ¡°Did you truly think I¡¯d have to cheat to kill a lynx, or are you just not man enough to accept Countess deLande¡¯s decision with grace?¡±


    DeVale threw himself forward with a scream of rage so far and fast that David didn¡¯t quite manage to evade his blade all the way. Luckily, it was just a graze, but still, hot, sharp pain shot up and down his right arm. DeVale looked a little surprised at his own success ¨C his hesitation lasted less than a second, but it was enough for David to land a counter-attack against the count¡¯s extended leg, causing a deep injury to the thigh just above the knee. DeVale stumbled when he moved away and nearly fell.


    David wanted to use his opponent¡¯s disturbed balance to press in, but Desmarais already called an interruption. Lord Carter must have asked for it. David cursed inwardly as he retreated to his side of the ring, gently touching his own arm. Just a graze, luckily. Up on the ranks, people were murmuring to themselves.


    ¡°Let me see,¡± George Louis demanded as soon as David reached him. At the sight of the blood, the duke cursed.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a graze.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not just a graze and it¡¯s your sword-arm!¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re going to fight with your left hand?¡±


    David rolled his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s not that bad.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. You can¡¯t fight like this!¡±


    ¡°I can. I have before,¡± David grumbled. ¡°Put a bandage on it if you have to. I¡¯m not forfeiting this challenge for a graze.¡±


    George Louis very, very gently touched the injury again. David impatiently rolled his shoulders to show that the cut didn¡¯t bother him. The duke still studied his face for a moment before he gave in with a huff and started to wrap a piece of clean linen tightly around the arm.


    Lord Carter had already finished wrapping up deVale¡¯s leg.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure you can fight like this?¡± George Louis asked again. ¡°Hells take me, if you die for this stupid challenge...¡±


    ¡°If I die for this stupid challenge, you get to do with the werewolves as you please,¡± David growled. ¡°Trust me, that¡¯s incentive enough.¡±


    His arm did hurt. It hurt a lot, actually. But he had fought while in pain before. And he was certain that deVale¡¯s injury was just a bad. Probably worse. Had the count ever fought on after he had been struck?


    David pulled out his sword and swung it around carefully.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that doesn¡¯t hurt.¡±


    David didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he gave the fencer¡¯s greeting towards Desmarais to let him know that he was able to continue. The crowd grew louder as he took his place in the ring. DeVale was limping back, too.


    A moment later, Desmarais called: ¡°Fighters, take your places! Ready?¡±


    David and deVale both gave the sign that they were.


    ¡°Fight!¡±


    This time when the command came, the count moved only a small step sideways, his sword at a high guard, watching David more warily. David smiled grimly. DeVale had proven a better duellist than expected, David had to give him that, but he clearly wasn¡¯t used to fighting trough the pain of an injury. His face was already pale and drawn and he strongly favoured his injured leg, upsetting his own balance.


    Time to make good of this advantage.


    David closed the distance smoothly and attacked with a thrust from above. When deVale parried, he pulled out, stepped away and aside, to attack from a different angle. He forced another parry before once again changing his position. He kept moving around to compel the count to keep turning with him or present his unguarded back.


    The bandage on deVale¡¯s leg quickly soaked through. David felt the blood run down his own arm, but it hadn¡¯t reached his gloves yet and didn¡¯t mess with his grip, so he didn¡¯t worry about it.


    DeVale wasn¡¯t entirely stupid, unfortunately. He aimed to bind David¡¯s blade as much as possible, and every time he did, leaned into the steel. They traded a few more blows, both landing minor cuts ¨C the crowd cheered the count when he the tip of his blade connected with David¡¯s face, slicing open his cheek. Blood welled up right away, flowing down to David¡¯s chin. The count even backed off, as if he expected another interruption.


    David didn¡¯t even blink, though, pressing the attack instead. He could see deVale¡¯s eyes widen. Maybe it finally dawned on him that he might have made the wrong enemy. David didn¡¯t give him time to dwell on that mistake. He landed three more hits on his opponent¡¯s arms and legs in quick succession ¨C none of them life-threatening, but it clearly rattled deVale that David kept getting past his guard. He was getting more careless, his hits more desperate and less precise.


    He didn¡¯t surrender, though, which was a bit of a problem. David didn¡¯t really want to kill the idiot. But he was getting tired, too. His injured arm hurt like hell. The longer this stupid challenge lasted, the higher the risk that he slipped up and the other man got in a lucky thrust between his ribs.


    DeVale¡¯s supporters in the crowd had gone mostly silent. The more experienced watchers could probably see the choice the count was forcing on David.


    Even when the deVale landed a wild hit, there was only soft applause.


    David retreated across the ring, cursing at himself inwardly. The other man had only been able to land that because he himself had hesitated to run his sword through the idiot¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Give it up,¡± David called.


    ¡°Never!¡±


    The count threw himself across the pit. David sighed softly and sidestepped the charge. The idiot just barely managed to slow before he presented his back to David.


    Well, at least anyone could see that he had tried to follow the duke¡¯s orders.


    DeVale had clearly reached the end of his strength as well as his reason. He came at David again in what resembled a stumble more than a lunge. David gave up on trying not to hurt the idiot too badly. He parried easily and then followed through with a direct thrust that went in between two ribs, running the count right through. He did hope he hadn¡¯t killed him ¨C the injury should be far enough to the side that the steel had probably missed the heart but it might have punctured the lung.


    The bastard had the gall to look surprised when David pulled his blade out of his body, sending him stumbling backwards. Lord Carter was there to catch him when he collapsed.


    ¡°Healer!¡± the second yelled, even though at least one man was already hurrying over, ¡°healer!¡±


    David ran a sleeve over his forehead to stop the sweat from running into his eyes, glancing along the ranks. More than one lady was clutching dramatically at her chest, but David wasn¡¯t worried about them. He was wondering if one of his supporters liked deVale enough to start another fight.


    But nobody moved, besides the healers and Duke Desmarais, who walked over to inquire as to deVale¡¯s state. He straightened after a moment and declared:


    ¡°Count deVale cannot continue. Lord Feleke stands victorious. Let it be known that all charges of cheating against him are void!¡±

 Chapter 119

    It shouldn¡¯t have mattered much. But it did. David bowed to the duke and then addressed the audience himself, sword still in hand: ¡°If anyone else wants to tarnish my name ¨C I¡¯m just warmed up!¡±


    There were no takers, luckily. Only George Louis stepped next to him. ¡°You always have to have the last word, don¡¯t you?¡±


    David didn¡¯t look at him. He just rolled his shoulders stiffly, glancing one last time around the arena, before finally sheathing his blade.


    ¡°I told you not to kill him,¡± the duke went on when David didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°I tried not to. If the healer is half-competent, he should be fine. Given a month or two.¡±


    ¡°Whatever.¡± George Louis waved his answer away. ¡°Quit grandstanding and have a seat so the healer can look at you as well.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t need one. Maybe a couple of stitches.¡±


    The duke already had a piece of fabric in hand to carefully dab at the wound at David¡¯s face. ¡°If that leaves a scar I shall be most cross,¡± he said softly.


    ¡°I thought my rugged charm was what made me attractive to you.¡±


    ¡°One can have too much of a good thing.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, never expected you of all people to say that.¡±


    David clamped his teeth together and turned abruptly away to walk over to where a second healer, or maybe a doctor, was hovering. He had clearly lost more blood than he had realized if he was giving George Louis openings like that.


    ¡°Please, my lord, sit down,¡± the man said. ¡°I am no healer,¡± he added. ¡°But your injuries should not call for magic, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    David just sat and let the doctor take care of the cut on his face. As soon as he did, Marquess Picot showed up, like a bad penny.


    ¡°That was most impressive,¡± the older man claimed. ¡°I trust you will be all right?¡±


    ¡°I thought you supported deVale,¡± David grumbled. He was thoroughly sick of these bloody palace games.


    ¡°Quite the contrary, you just won me a fair bit of gold. Would you like a share?¡±


    ¡°You ¨C bet on me.¡±


    ¡°Why, of course, I did! Admittedly, I was one of the few people who placed a decent sum on you. Most people thought you would lose. The odds were five to one against you. But I heard what the soldiers said after Oldstone Castle about you. And deVale, well, he is a very fine duellist. One of the best around here. But he never fought for his life before.¡±


    A heavy hand landed on David¡¯s shoulder. ¡°If deVale is considered the best fighter around here, then only Mithras can save us.¡±


    ¡°Lord Clermont,¡± Picot said stiffly.


    Clermont ignored the marquess. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have given him so many openings,¡± he admonished David. ¡°You¡¯re still being too nice. You could have saved yourself that slash to your ribs at the very least if you had just done away with the idiot.¡±


    ¡°I was under orders not to kill him if at all possible.¡±


    Clermont sniffed. ¡°He was the one who started this, wasn¡¯t he? Well, count or not, at least this should teach him not to insult his betters with made-up charges.¡±


    David really wished he had any idea what was going on here. He got the distinct impression that Clermont wasn¡¯t really talking to him but he couldn¡¯t look around, either, not while the doctor was busy stitching up the cut on his face. The man had applied a paste that effectively numbed the pain, but David didn¡¯t want to mess up his work.


    He saw George Louis standing back a little, surrounded by other nobles, probably already busy milking every advantage he could get out of David¡¯s victory. Some strangers were walking up to congratulate David, too. Lady Pettau, luckily, didn¡¯t come near him again. However, Lady de Burg was sauntering over, an older man at her side.


    ¡°Lord Feleke,¡± the lady said with a curtsey. ¡°May I introduce you to my father, the Marquess of Southshire.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an honour,¡± David replied. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll pardon me for the informality of not getting up.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the marquess replied. He couldn¡¯t be much older than his mid-forties, fifty at the outmost. Fit, a real blade at his side, not a dress sword. His clothes were a lot less elaborate than for example Picot¡¯s. ¡°Uncle Clermont seems to hold you in a rather high regard. Perhaps, once your injuries have healed, you¡¯ll agree to a friendly match?¡±


    David had a really hard time not whipping his head around to the general who was still standing next to his shoulder. ¡°It¡¯ll be my pleasure,¡± he said.


    Uncle. Huh. He hadn¡¯t seen that one coming. He should probably brush up on his genealogy.


    ¡°There¡¯s also a rumour that we have you to thank for the promotion of Lord d¡¯Aubigny to Lord of the Admiralty.¡±


    ¡°Duke Stuard appointed him,¡± David hedged.


    ¡°Yet it was a pleasant surprise to hear that the duke¡¯s new right-hand man would not insist on a northerner for all the new positions.¡±


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    ¡°It¡¯s all Loegrion to me,¡± David replied. He had no idea if that was the right thing to say. He really just wanted to bury his face in his hands, or even better, get up and walk out of here.


    All he had wanted was one quiet afternoon with his sword, was that really too much to ask for?


    ¡°Perhaps, once this war is over you¡¯ll visit Southshire,¡± the marquess said. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you in the doctor¡¯s capable hands now.¡±


    David looked after him and Clermont. He was actually relieved when George Louis took the place at his shoulder. Right until the doctor made him take off his shirt so he could fix up the long cut over his ribs ¨C if they had been using greatswords, that hit would have put David in serious trouble ¨C and only then turned to the graze on his arm.


    Hopefully, the people still milling about would interpret the way George Louis was ogling his naked chest as concern for his ¡°right-hand man¡±.


    David¡¯s head shot up when a sickly sweet smell rolled through the arena. The healer at deVale¡¯s side cursed. There was a hint of panic in his voice. People backed away quickly from where the count lay on his back: Something was moving in the puddle of blood that had formed around him.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± David muttered, and struggled to his feet. ¡°Salt! Why wasn¡¯t that ground salted!¡± he yelled.


    ¡°Where¡¯re the werewolves when you need them,¡± he added to himself, drawing his blade again.


    It wasn¡¯t too bad, luckily. The magic and the blood together had only managed to raise a small column of the sand from the ground to about a foot of height, and it looked like the forming creature had issues holding itself together. Probably because the ground did get treated with alchemy regularly.


    David dispersed the sand with his blade, breathing flatly against the stink that was starting to fill the arena. The column reformed quickly, maybe a little bit smaller than before. It should be enough to just spread the blood further out, but he didn¡¯t fancy standing here for the next hour or two, stirring sand.


    ¡°Gentlemen, countenance,¡± David called. He managed to control his voice, hide his annoyance at the useless panic all around, project confidence. ¡°Duke George Louis, if you¡¯re carrying your lighter, now would be a good time to bring it out. You there, Lord Carter, wrap some linen around the tip of deVale¡¯s sword, set it on fire, hand it over.¡±


    Lord Carter very slowly, very gingerly, stepped closer.


    ¡°Any sword will do,¡± David added when he realized that the other lord was too scared of the tiny, powerless Rot-creature to get deVale¡¯s abandoned blade. ¡°How about yours?¡±


    Carter only now seemed to remember the dress sword at his side.


    David scattered the sand again with his own blade. He glanced up to the ceiling and the walls, but the gas lamps lighting the room wouldn¡¯t help them much. They either needed a torch, a werewolf, or some decent alchemy.


    Five frozen hells, he should have insisted on taking Pierre¡¯s pack to Deva right away.


    Finally, a makeshift torch burned, but Carter wouldn¡¯t come closer than three yards. David spread out the tiny creature again and then walked over, grabbing the burning blade before the linen fell to ash. He only had to hit the tumbling Rot-dwarf once. The flame flared, guttered, and hissed, then the sand stopped moving.


    ¡°Well, I am so done with today,¡± David muttered. He kicked the small heap of sand, just for good measure, then turned around to hand Carter his sword back. People stared at him as he grabbed his clothes, shrugged into his jacket, gave a small, mocking bow, and walked out.


    He was halfway to the nearest exit, when one of the palace runners caught up with him, yelling: ¡°Lord Feleke! Lord Feleke!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David growled.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, Mr. Grooch sends me. You have to come to your office right away!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David repeated. But he couldn¡¯t stop himself from asking: ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Grooch didn¡¯t say, only that it¡¯s important! He didn¡¯t look well!¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t look well?¡±


    The boy nodded excitedly. ¡°Like he was sick. Or maybe he¡¯s been in a fight!¡±


    David froze. ¡°Did you tell anyone else?¡±


    ¡°No, I came to find you first.¡±


    He had no idea if that was true, but David pulled out three silver coins anyway. ¡°Not a word to anyone,¡± he told the boy.


    The door to his office was locked when David got there. He closed it quickly behind himself. He could see right away why Grooch had wanted him: The room had clearly been searched from top to bottom. Grooch¡¯s carefully filed papers had been pulled from their shelves and scattered all over, the desk drawers had been ripped out of the hinges and their contents poured over the top. At least one ink jar had shattered in the midst of it all, and David¡¯s comfortable chair had been turned over.


    Grooch sat on the visitor¡¯s chair, limply, as if he had pulled himself into the seat with the last of his strength. His face was pallid, there was cold sweat on his face, and his only ever ink-stained robes were dusty. He was dabbing at the back of his head with a blood-stained handkerchief.


    David surveyed the scene a moment longer, and finally said: ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you saw who did this.¡±


    ¡°Lord Feleke!¡±


    For a second, Grooch struggled to sit straight, possibly even stand, then his jaw dropped. ¡°Lord Feleke, you were attacked as well?¡±


    ¡°In a manner of speaking,¡± David replied. ¡°Lord deVale claimed I had cheated in the race for Lady deLande¡¯s favour. He challenged me to a duel.¡±


    Grooch almost dropped the handkerchief. ¡°And you lost? Oh, that will be so much trouble!¡±


    ¡°Excuse me? I did not lose,¡± David growled.


    Grooch stared at him some more. Finally, he seemed to pale even further, and asked: ¡°Is Count deVale ¨C is he ¨C dead?¡±


    ¡°Not if the healer is half-competent.¡± David walked over to his desk, glanced at the ink-stained top, and pulled his chair upright. He sat down and rested his boots on the ruined surface. Grooch closed his eyes, either from exhaustion or because he didn¡¯t have to see that.


    ¡°Again,¡± David said. ¡°Did you see who did this?¡±


    Grooch slowly shook his head. ¡°I doubt I would be alive if I had. I was filing some reports. Didn¡¯t hear the door open. Someone must have knocked me out from behind. When I came to, the place looked like this. I felt it was better if you saw the full scope of it, so I decided against cleaning it up. I simply rang up a runner to find you.¡±


    From the way Grooch was swaying in his seat, David doubted that clean-up had really been an option.


    ¡°Quite a fine mess,¡± David muttered, more to himself. ¡°Say, has Count deVale ever killed an opponent in the arena?¡±


    ¡°No, milord. Not that I know of. Why?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°Just wondering if they wanted me dead or just distracted.¡±


    Grooch considered that. ¡°DeVale is known for his short temper,¡± he said softly, staring at the blood on his handkerchief. ¡°There was that rather unfortunate incident with Lord Boggs. Had it not been for the intervention of Lord Boggs¡¯ friends, that may well have ended worse than it did. And deVale was unbeaten in the arena for nearly six months last summer. I take it this was a fight to the finish?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And he believed you cheated him out of Countess deLande¡¯s favour?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what it sounded like.¡±


    ¡°In that case, I would assume that someone wanted you dead.¡±


    David nodded, looking around the room again. Someone had done their utmost to hide what they were after, but really, there wasn¡¯t all that much valuable information to find in here.


    ¡°Fine. We need to get a message out to all the garrisons where werewolves are stationed. They need to be on the lookout for unsanctioned hunters, murderers, fanatics, anyone else who might try to kill a werewolf. Get one of your underlings to do it. I hope that Rust and his group are deep enough within Rot territory to be safe, there¡¯s no way to warn them.¡±


    ¡°What will you be doing, milord?¡±


    ¡°Me? I¡¯m going home.¡±

 Chapter 120

    David didn¡¯t slow down until he was out of the palace and standing in the evening air. Despite everything that had happened, he was still out early, and Antonio was nowhere in sight. He considered paying the werewolves in their cells another visit, but then instead set out to walk home, walk off some of the craziness of the past hour.


    He hated the palace. He hated the palace and the city, and he should have known better than to try and make his way through the heart of Deva on foot during the evening rush. In his attempt to avoid the worst of the traffic, he found himself down at one of the parks along the White Torrent. He had been here quite regularly since handling the Rot had been made his responsibility.


    There were still barriers up along the river, to stop people from going all the way down to the water¡¯s edge. Not that many people were inclined to do so. Night was falling fast. The few other pedestrians all stayed in the nicer parts of the park. Desmarais had paid good money to have the higher banks planted with daffodils, snowdrops, crocuses, and other early-blooming flowers. David supposed it looked nice enough.


    A young man and his girl, who had been gazing deep into each other¡¯s eyes on the other side of the flower bed, noticed him, broke apart, and quickly walked away. David chuckled. It wasn¡¯t surprising, given what he had to look like. It wasn¡¯t yet dark enough for the blood on his clothes to become unnoticeable. He stared at the flowers a few seconds longer, but they weren¡¯t really all that interesting to him. So he started moving again, ignoring the signs warning people to stay clear of the river. He didn¡¯t stop until he stood right at the water¡¯s edge. A couple of guards came running in his direction.


    Prompt reaction, David noted with some satisfaction.


    ¡°Oi, you!¡± the faster one started. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re ¨C¡°


    His partner grabbed him by the shoulder, shutting him off.


    ¡°Lord Feleke?¡± the second guard asked. ¡°Apologies, we didn¡¯t recognize you right away. Any trouble?¡±


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    David raked his brain for the name of the sergeant and came up blank. ¡°A duel between lords,¡± he replied instead. ¡°Nothing you would need to worry about.¡±


    ¡°Must have been one hell of a fight!¡±


    David smiled wryly at the younger guard. ¡°A man tried to kill me, I objected.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have wanted to be in the other guy¡¯s shoes,¡± the sergeant muttered. ¡°Anything you need, let us know, milord. We need to finish our rounds.¡±


    He snapped a salute, and David answered the gesture. Lord Clermont used to take an hour every day out of his schedule for weeks, drilling him in this and other military protocols until he was happy that David wouldn¡¯t ¡°embarrass his command.¡±


    David had to admit that it had given him a sense of security, knowing what his men might expect of him.


    If he could establish similar structures and rituals amongst his werewolf forces, that might help them integrate with the regular troops, too. If he lived long enough to do it.


    If.


    He really hated the palace and its intrigues.


    He didn¡¯t have a damn clue what was going on.


    If someone wanted him dead, why not use poison, or a dagger in the back, something he wouldn¡¯t see coming? Something he couldn¡¯t defend himself from?


    Why goad deVale into fighting him? Or had the count truly deluded himself into believing David had cheated him? He couldn¡¯t possibly be that daft, could he?


    No. Someone had told those girls ¨C young ladies ¨C to go and find David. Someone had orchestrated this fight, talked deVale into demanding a fight to the finish, spread the word. But for what? So deVale could make a fool of himself? Surely, there were better opportunities to kill David? Like right now? Or even better, make it look like a werewolf did it?


    All this effort just to search his office? What did these people think he was keeping in there? A philosopher¡¯s stone?


    It wasn¡¯t exactly a secret where the werewolves were stationed. Surely it would have been much easier to bribe the technicians who handled the telegraph? Those guys certainly knew of all the postings.


    David spit into the frothing waves of the White Torrent in disgust. Something really funny was going on here. He stared into the water some more, but didn¡¯t find any answers in the rushing currents.


    He just felt cold. Cold and strangely disconnected from his surroundings. He swayed when he walked back up the banks and had to hold onto a bench for a moment to steady himself. His head swam as if he were drunk, and he decided it was probably safer to flag down a cab once he got up to the dam. The avenue up there was still busy, and people stared even more. It took him three tries and he had to offer cash upfront before he found a cab driver that was willing to take him home.

 Chapter 121

    The next morning, David cursed with every step he took on the way to his office. The cut on his face had swollen so much it was like a shadow at the bottom of his vision, smarting when he spoke or chewed, and every other part of his body ached, too. He¡¯d put on some fresh bandages on the injuries on his arm and ribs, but they still burned with every movement.


    When he got to the hallway with his office, the door stood open. David sighed and reached for his pistol. Today, he was properly armed.


    So of course, it was just George Louis sitting in his chair behind the still messed up desk. One of Grooch¡¯s underlings was nervously flitting around the room collecting papers of the ground and putting them back where they belonged. Grooch was nowhere in sight.


    ¡°Put that away,¡± George Louis grumbled when he noticed leaning David in the doorway. The undersecretary jumped and almost dropped his papers when he saw David.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ¨C ah, you lordship, I¡¯ll just ¨C¡°


    David stepped fully into the room to let the man squirrel out behind him. When he heard the door close behind him, he asked: ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    The duke looked around the trashed room, then shook his head at him. ¡°You are such a lucky idiot, do you know that?¡±


    David seriously considered shooting him for the condescending tone alone. ¡°What, for not getting killed by deVale? Or for having my office searched?¡±


    ¡°For this!¡± George Louis held out a slip of paper like it was a dagger.


    David didn¡¯t move. ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a telegram. Read it!¡±


    There was something in his tone ¨C almost a hint of hysteria ¨C that made David step forward and take the piece of paper. It was from First Camp.


    ¡°Received orders from palace to kill werewolf STOP


    Seal was fake STOP


    Repeat: Seal was FAKE STOP


    Advising all werewolf commanders to check seals carefully STOP


    Ignore false orders STOP¡±


    ¡°They stole your seals,¡± George Louis growled, as soon as David lowered the paper. ¡°I have no idea how First Camp figured that out, but they stole your damn seals, wrote fake orders, and took the evening trains to Eoforwic, Deggan, and Breachpoint. I cannot believe you didn¡¯t even check where your seals are!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t use them,¡± David replied. He handed the telegram back, and picked something out of the mess on the desk. The crossbow bolt he had been using all the time. ¡°Here, this is my seal. I¡¯ve been using it since Oldstone Castle.¡±


    George Louis frowned. ¡°But ¨C why? I know you had proper seals made, I had them ordered!¡±


    ¡°They weren¡¯t right,¡± David shrugged. ¡°They looked nothing like this and I didn¡¯t want to bother to inform the commanders I was in contact with about the change. It didn¡¯t seem that important, since I did have something else.¡±


    Even Grooch had been fine with him using the tip of the quarrel.


    George Louis stood up and grabbed the crossbow bolt out of his hand, glanced at it. ¡°This?¡± He threw it back into the mess on the table. ¡°A kid with a beet could fake that!¡±


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    David shrugged. ¡°Seems to have stymied whoever did this. Which werewolf?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Come on, you said this telegram was sent sometime last night. Don¡¯t pretend you haven¡¯t had your men follow up on this. Which werewolf did they want dead?¡±


    ¡°The name was Calder.¡±


    ¡°No wonder Captain Reed was suspicious. Calder isn¡¯t even stationed at First Camp. If I had wanted him dead, I¡¯d have sent a message to Midway Camp. Who else?¡±


    ¡°Bernadette and Dale.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± David muttered. ¡°I suppose that makes sense.¡±


    ¡°Really? What makes these three special?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. But they were the ones who transformed under Morgulon¡¯s influence at Oldstone Castle on New Moon. Whoever is behind this must have had some information about the battle, but not the understanding to target a really powerful werewolf.¡±


    He¡¯d have to send a message to Brines right away, just in case they did know about Morgulon. Could he have someone check on Fenn?


    He took a deep breath. ¡°Any idea who did this?¡± he asked.


    George Louis shrugged. ¡°Someone who wanted to sow distrust between you and the werewolves?¡±


    David raised his eyebrows at him. ¡°Oh, really. Why didn¡¯t I think of that?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me, in case you were wondering.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t, actually.¡±


    That was the truth. David was fairly certain that if George Louis was going to betray the werewolves, it wouldn¡¯t be until they had won the war. George Louis frowned, though.


    ¡°And where did that change of opinion about me come from?¡±


    David shrugged. He considered telling the truth, but then he said: ¡°I met your wife.¡±


    He probably wouldn¡¯t get a better opening to cut to that topic.


    George Louis went very still. ¡°You ¨C met Annabelle? Where?¡±


    ¡°She was one the werewolves who saved the Savre Camp. You could¡¯ve talked to her had you stayed a little longer. Currently, she¡¯s at Brines.¡±


    ¡°Of course she is.¡±


    ¡°Does your son know that his mother is a werewolf? Because she wants to see him.¡±


    ¡°And why would I tell him that?¡±


    ¡°I was just wondering, given his eagerness to meet a werewolf.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll bring her here?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said. He expected George Louis to argue, but he barely even blinked.


    ¡°I suppose she would be counted as an elder, wouldn¡¯t she?¡± the duke asked after a moment.


    ¡°Barely, but yes,¡± David shrugged.


    He glanced over to the duke again, but George Louis had his lips pressed together, as if he wanted to stop himself from saying anything more.


    ¡°We need a better description,¡± David went on, just to fill the stretching silence. ¡°To differentiate between those who can deal with a brute without trouble, and those who can transform on new moon. Starting around the same age, they seem to gain a fighting chance of surviving an encounter with a Rot-queen...¡±


    David trailed off. ¡°But that¡¯s something for the scientists to worry about, I suppose.¡±


    He picked the crossbow bolt up from the table again, played with it for a moment. Should he apologize now for blaming George Louis for Annabelle¡¯s death? He rolled the quarrel between his fingers and decided against it.


    ¡°Is there anything else you needed? I need to warn my family that someone might come after Morgulon.¡±


    He needed to write to Captain Reed, too, to thank him for warning the other commanders. If whoever was behind this had succeeded¡ªeven if David would have been able to convince the other werewolves that he hadn¡¯t ordered those three elders killed¡ªthey would still be dead. How could he expect the werewolves to trust him if he couldn¡¯t keep them safe from intrigues like this?


    ¡°We need to figure out how to prevent this in the future,¡± George Louis said.


    ¡°I¡¯m all ears if you have any ideas.¡±


    How was he supposed to prevent this level of intrigue in the future? Whoever had done this wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake twice; if they tried again, they would surely make sure they got the right ¡°seal.¡±


    The only solution he could think of was to keep them on his person at all times.


    ¡°I¡¯ll walk with you,¡± George Louis said. ¡°We¡¯ll have to discuss the matter with Duke Desmarais. And you have to talk to Count deVale, David. Set the matter straight with him. Ideally in the next couple of days, while he can¡¯t assault you. Maybe he will tell you who put him up to this in the first place. Take that bloody bolt with you,¡± he added.


    He shuddered when David pocketed it, and complained: ¡°I can¡¯t believe we seriously got saved by your refusal to do things properly.¡±


    ¡°You could have hired someone for this job who actually knows the palace,¡± David pointed out. ¡°Like Lane, for example.¡±


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have worked,¡± George Louis claimed.


    David was fairly sure that Lane would have done a much better job at handling the political side of this job. He couldn¡¯t wait for her to get here so he could just ask her for help, rather than sending letters back and forth.


    He had to get Pierre and pack to come to Deva.

 Chapter 122

    David returned from Deva a couple of days before new moon, to see if the werewolves were ready to go. Not one of them looked particularly enthusiastic at the prospect of leaving Brines.


    Maybe they shouldn¡¯t have made them quite as comfortable.


    David pushed the thought away as he sat down for dinner with the pack. They were all in their human shapes tonight, except for Morgulon. David decided to take that as a good sign. They were clearly willing to talk to him.


    ¡°Have you decided if you would be willing to go to Deva?¡± he breached the topic once they all had their plates filled. He could probably force them to go, but he hoped to convince them.


    Pierre hesitating, glancing around the table. ¡°How exactly would that work? When I was bitten, werewolves were only allowed to enter the city in chains.¡±


    David shook his head. He hoped they would believe him on this: ¡°You didn¡¯t wear chains in Eoforwic, did you?¡±


    He waited for them to shake their heads uneasily, before adding: ¡°You¡¯ll be housed in a small village just outside, but Duke Desmarais will grant you permission to enter the city.¡±


    ¡°Just like that?¡±


    ¡°Just like that, yes. I will be vouching for you, and Desmarais is trusting me to ensure that you will not endanger anyone.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that isn¡¯t a scary thought or anything,¡± R¨¦my muttered.


    David sighed. ¡°Any crimes you might commit will fall under my jurisdiction. However, you will not be prosecuted for being a werewolf. Or for deeds that wouldn¡¯t be considered a crime in everyone else. You will be provided with food, shelter, clothes, a safe place to transform on full moon, and I will do my best to fulfill any need you might have.¡±


    He took a deep breath. ¡°I cannot guarantee that you will be able to go everywhere in the city as you can here in Eoforwic. The heartlands are ¨C well, people there are not used to the Rot, and they do not appreciate what you guys do as much as people elsewhere. So it¡¯s quite likely that you will need escorts.¡±


    ¡°Werewolf hunters.¡±


    ¡°No. R¨¦my. We barely have enough werewolf hunters willing to work with you guys to deal with the newly bitten ones. I certainly don¡¯t have anyone to spare to escort you around town. I also don¡¯t really have time to hunt you down, either, so I would appreciate it if you don¡¯t turn to murder.¡±


    Was that the right thing to say? He had no idea. Werewolves never believed him if he said he didn¡¯t want to hunt them, so he hoped that maybe pretending like he was too busy would be more credible.


    There was very little reaction in the pack. They just exchanged dubious looks, and the one named Laurent asked: ¡°What about those hunters who don¡¯t want to work with sane werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Most have quit,¡± David said. ¡°It¡¯s just not lucrative anymore since the buying and selling of werewolf pelts is now illegal and the Church isn¡¯t around anymore to put up those large bounties they used to pay. We are doing our best to round up and lock up the more fanatic ones. Most of them turned south, to join up with the Loyalists. I would not advise you to go that direction, and I would not send you that way without an escort.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that is a start,¡± Pierre said. ¡°Yes, I will come to Deva. What about everyone else?¡±


    David smiled in relief. ¡°I would like you all to come down to Deva for now,¡± he replied. ¡°From there, we can easily move some or all of you elsewhere as needed.¡±


    He didn¡¯t want them spread out, not now, with unknown agents running around, stealing his seals and writing false orders. And he especially didn¡¯t want them with commanders he didn¡¯t personally know, like that idiot at King¡¯s Haven. No, they¡¯d all go to a nice village just outside Deva, accessible via railway, with guards David could trust. Maybe Andrew and Nathan, if they were willing.


    Aloud he said: ¡°Do you think the danger of the Rot-queens has passed along the line to Mannin?¡±


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    Pierre looked over to Morgulon, who flicked her ears. ¡°It should be,¡± he said out loud. ¡°They are rare, after all, and neither Morgulon nor I could sense any more of them.¡±


    David nodded. ¡°When you say rare, what are we talking about?¡±


    ¡°I cannot give a number,¡± Pierre said. ¡°We drove them out of the mountains, though sometimes they come to try and take them back. We fight them; sometimes we win, sometimes we lose. Other than us, there are few magical creatures left for them to corrupt, though.¡±


    ¡°We will be moving tomorrow?¡± Greg asked.


    David shook his head. ¡°The day after. The dukes want to meet with you, so it¡¯ll be on new moon. I¡¯ve got some more of the vouchers here, if you want to go into Eoforwic again tomorrow.¡±


    He¡¯d have to figure out a way to extend his ¡°departments¡± budget so he could pay the werewolves more.


    ***


    Thoko took the train to Eoforwic with the Feleke brothers and the werewolves, but she parted ways with them at the station. Greg of course offered to go with her, but there were some things she preferred to do alone. Visiting her father was one of them.


    She took a slight detour towards the catacombs, past the cheap apartment building where she and her mother had lived before this had started, and stopped to stare up at the sooty facade. She was glad to be out of that dirty hole that didn¡¯t even have access to proper sewers, though she did miss some of her neighbours.


    The sun shone brightly when she reached the small hill just outside the western gate of the old city, furthest away from the river, where the city of Eoforwic had dug deep into the ground to store their dead safely, behind silver, salt, and complicated alchemy. That was what it was in Thoko¡¯s mind, storage, not a proper burial. There were even racks where the dead were put up. And after a few years, when the last of the flesh had rotted away, the custodians took the bodies apart, to store the bones sorted ¨C like tools! Skulls with skulls and thigh bones with thigh bones, ribs with ribs, and so forth.


    Thoko hurried past that morbid display, which lined the entrance rooms. The first time she had seen it, she had stood there for almost an hour, terrified of the thought that one day, her father¡¯s body would be likewise disassembled, taken to pieces like ¨C like old clothes that got ripped apart to make rags. Except that there wasn¡¯t even any use to the bones. They were just piled up in mountains of ivory until time ground them to dust and even the Rot had no more interest in them. Only then, when the last bit of the magic that was life was gone, only then were they taken out to some field. Compared to that, Thoko could almost see why burning would be better. Where did the soul go when the body was destroyed like that? Did it likewise ground to dust until there was nothing left?


    She had to pay a copper to the guard at the inner gate, wrought of almost pure silver. The smell of dried lavender was thick in the air, to keep the Rot away and cover up the odour of the fresher bodies in here. Her father didn¡¯t really belong here anymore, but for a small fee, the custodians were willing to forget that.


    Thoko kneeled down in front of the rack where he lay, covered under a richly embroidered blanket, to keep bad spirits and hopefully the Rot away.


    ¡°Not much longer now, father,¡± she whispered. ¡°The duke has given Eyal the land for his crew and not even protested my share, even though I haven¡¯t worked on the railway in a while. Maybe because David was there.¡±


    She had told him all about Greg and his family before.


    ¡°In summer, Eyal says, that¡¯s just a few more months, they¡¯ll have a place ready. He wrote to me that Ragna will help, she¡¯s an elder werewolf, a powerful one. I think she¡¯s the third strongest? Or maybe fourth now?¡±


    Did her ancestors smile at her? At what she had accomplished? Would her father approve of her becoming a Loegrian landowner? Of the friends she had made? Would he approve of Greg? Her mother was still on the fence, though Thoko thought that mostly because of the cubs. Or was it about rank? The fact that Greg was born noble? Or that he was a werewolf?


    It was hard to get a straight answer from Yamikani on the matter, so maybe it was a little bit of all?


    Thoko really wished she could talk to her father about it all. Wished he was here to see her, in the nice clothes Imani had given her, friends with lords and ladies, tentatively ¨C was she even courting Greg, a werewolf? They were more than just friends, that much she was sure of. But what exactly they were, she couldn¡¯t have said.


    Would her father think she had lost her mind, or would he have approved?


    She told him, quietly, everything else that had happened over the past few days, sometimes glancing over her shoulder to make sure that none of the men guarding the dead ¨C decked out in more silver than any other soldier ¨C could hear her. After a while, she barely even noticed the smell of the bodies surrounding her.


    Sometimes, the tears overflowed and ran over her cheeks, but the pain and the loss had faded. The grief still hit her in unexpected moments, but here, where she actually felt close to his spirit, it was less raw. Maybe one day, when she had a proper grave to honour him at, she would even be able to remember the good times they had had without it hurting.


    But that day wasn¡¯t there yet.


    When the cold started to settle in her bones, Thoko got up, thanked the custodian, and walked back towards the railway station. She had intended to find Greg and his family, to enjoy the night with them before they moved to Deva tomorrow. Now, she felt too tired, too worn out for company.


    The woman who sat across from her on the train noted her red eyes and asked about them. Thoko tried to smile. ¡°I visited my father at the catacombs,¡± she said. She was prepared to lie about the details, but the woman didn¡¯t ask. Instead, she offered her a fresh cookie and told her about her son who had signed up to fight the Loyalists at Port Neath.


    She left at the next stop and left Thoko to munch on her cookie.

 Chapter 123

    The house at Brines was quiet when Thoko got there. The guys and most of the werewolves were out, only Morgulon had stayed home with her cubs. So it was just Thoko, her mother and Imani at the dinner table. Greg¡¯s mother was drafting a letter to one of her fellow ladies while spearing her salad, muttering to herself. Thoko was pretty sure she caught the words: ¡°No, can¡¯t write that... even though it¡¯s true...¡±


    Greg had told her about his mother¡¯s correspondence, how she kept in contact with all the other ladies of similar rank, discussing both little and large events in their letters. And a lot of those letters were about the best ways of running estates, Greg said, since many of those ladies ran their family lands much like Imani had taken over the running of the Feleke estates upon her marriage. They were the first ones who had to deal with the Rot ¨C after all, giving birth was a woman¡¯s domain ¨C and find ways to keep their households and people safe. Like hiring a werewolf. They talked to their tenants, servants, their friends, and of course their husbands ¨C lords who sat in important councils where the official politics were made.


    Imani pushed the paper away once the main course arrived; and when had Thoko become the kind of person who regularly had multiple courses for dinner?


    ¡°Do the dukes know you are supporting them like this?¡± Thoko asked.


    ¡°I suspect that there are a lot of things Duke Stuart is not aware of,¡± Imani said. ¡°As for Duke Desmarais, I just sent a telegram to his wife yesterday, so we don¡¯t accidentally write to the same lady at the same time. I assume she talks to him about this.¡±


    She smiled. ¡°There¡¯s talk of a knighthood for Mr. Levi and each of his men.¡±


    Thoko almost dropped her fork. ¡°No way!¡±


    ¡°A baroness from Northwold made the suggestion and there has been a bit of support from the families that have profited from the railway. We¡¯ll have to see if it will last. There can¡¯t be a knighting in Loegrion until there is a king.¡±


    ¡°Has there ever been a Knight who was a Wayfarer?¡±


    ¡°Not as far as I know. And it¡¯ll be harder to get you a ladyship ¨C people are happily embracing the idea that the Mithrans won¡¯t rule here any longer, but you¡­ well, it will be a harder sell.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really need...¡± Thoko trailed off. She didn¡¯t need a title, no. But if she had the rank, would she be able to do what Imani did? Could she wield that same kind of influence, subtle as it was?


    Thoko shook her head at her own thoughts. She hadn¡¯t even set foot on her own piece of land yet.


    ***


    The house was very quiet when Thoko went to bed early, disconcertingly so. She had gotten used to hearing a werewolf or two outside, Nathan and Andrew arguing, Lane going on a late-night ride. Her mother and Imani were doing some needlework downstairs, but she couldn¡¯t hear that. Even the babies were all silent, sleeping peacefully.


    It felt as if her head had barely touched the pillows when Thoko woke up again with a start. According to the grandfather clock in the corner, it wasn¡¯t even midnight yet, so what had woken her? Were Greg and his brothers back already?


    But the house was too quiet for that. At the very least, she¡¯d have heard Nathan¡¯s wooden leg on the tiles in the hallway.


    Had it been just a bad dream that woke her?


    Just as she was about to lay back again, she heard a soft sound downstairs, a chink and then a soft curse. She listened harder. The stairs groaned softly but there were no steps audible. As if someone was climbing them in their socks. Maybe Greg had come home early and alone?


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    But there was a tingle at the back of her head, and goose bumps running down her arms. She shook off the last dregs of sleepiness and finally realized what had woken her: Something was up with Morgulon. Thoko wasn¡¯t nearly as sensitive to the elder as a werewolf, but she recognized this feeling, this second-hand agitation speeding up her pulse, from Greg¡¯s fights with the Rot. She just hadn¡¯t been ready for that feeling here, in the safety of Brines.


    She grabbed for her dressing gown and her slippers. One of her braids had stolen out of the scarf she had wrapped them in for the night and tickled her neck as she peered out of her door. She flicked it back over her shoulder. The hallway outside was lined with modern gas lamps, so she could clearly see the dark figure that was nearly up the stairs. A man, his face shaded by a hood.


    A gun glinted in his hands, and a curved blade at the figure¡¯s side.


    Someone screamed downstairs, a high and frightened screech that went on for quite a while. It didn¡¯t sound like somebody dying, though. Just someone who was very scared.


    Slowly, very slowly, she stepped away from the door, heart racing high in her throat,  desperate not to make a sound. Her ribs ached as she tried to stop herself from gasping for air audibly. Already, she was feeling a little lightheaded. She looked around the room, but there was no good place to hide, nowhere to run, no way to climb out of the window fast enough.


    The door to the next room clicked: Lane¡¯s room. Thoko held her breath, but apparently, the other woman wasn¡¯t back yet. Just a moment later, her own door opened, and she stared at the muzzle of a pistol pointed right at her. The man didn¡¯t seem surprised to see her up.


    ¡°Where are they?¡± the stranger hissed.


    ¡°Who?¡± Thoko asked, genuinely confused. The werewolves? The Felekes?


    ¡°Don¡¯t play silly buggers with me. The bitch and its mongrels, where are they?¡±


    Thoko blinked. Morgulon and the babies? How could anyone miss them?


    Or was this guy working alone?


    But no, she could hear voices downstairs and people moving about. Someone was sobbing and a man cursed. In the same moment, the guy pointing his pistol at Thoko apparently changed his mind and growled at her to move.


    He waved her through the door, and Thoko complied slowly. She felt unbalanced on the stairs and had to grip the handrail firmly to stop herself from going down head-first.


    Or get shot.


    It looked like these invaders were here about Morgulon and her cubs only. The house¡¯s staff was already gathered in the entrance hall, scared and sobbing softly, but otherwise unharmed. They were held at bay by four more men with guns, crossbows slung over their backs just like the Felekes used to use. Yamikani knelt on the ground with the servants. She glanced up at Thoko briefly, eyes full of relief. A fifth assailant pressed a blade to Imani¡¯s neck. She still stood poised, her expression unreadable.


    Another scream echoed down the hallway, a woman¡¯s voice, followed by sobs. It had to have come from the salon. Thoko could hear a snap, almost like from a whip, and then another scream. And then:


    ¡°I swear, they were right here!¡±


    ¡°Where are they?¡± growled the man facing Imani.


    She didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°I will take your eye out, woman, if you won¡¯t speak!¡±


    Imani gave him a withering glare. But she did say: ¡°I do not know where she is. Ask anyone here. They were all in their nest when we went to bed.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the Morgulon,¡± Thoko said, before the man could make good on his threat and take out Imani¡¯s eye. ¡°Don¡¯t you know the stories? She¡¯s the most powerful werewolf alive. She can even turn invisible.¡±


    Every head turned in her direction, and for a second, they all were very, very quiet. Then one of the invaders laughed derisively. But Thoko noticed that the bastard still pointing a gun at her glanced around nervously.


    ¡°She could be anywhere,¡± Thoko added, just to see him squirm a bit more. ¡°Might be right in here with us. They say she can sense danger a hundred miles away.¡±


    Okay, maybe that last one was a bit too much. There was more laughter.


    But Thoko suddenly wondered: Pierre had said it was possible, hadn¡¯t he? That the real old werewolves had control of their magic.


    And where in the five frozen hells was Morgulon?

 Chapter 124

    A crying maidservant stumbled out of the drawing room, pushed by another one of the thugs. The girl was in her nightgown, just like Thoko. Her cheek was scarlet red, showing a faint imprint of a hand.


    ¡°The beast isn¡¯t here,¡± the man pushing her announced. ¡°Must¡¯ve heard something and run.¡±


    Their leader, still holding Imani, cursed. ¡°Tolve, Jimmy, with me. The rest of you, find the werewolf. It can¡¯t have gotten far, not with the brood in tow.¡±


    The man holding the servant girl directed her to kneel between the rest of the staff and the guy who had his pistol trained on Thoko waved her to move closer to them, too. Before the rest of them could start searching, a noise outside made them all jump, attackers and staff alike: a soft clicking sound, as if somebody tapped their fingernails against the window. The sound stopped, then repeated itself more slowly, only to speed up again, like the drumroll before the main act at the circus.


    As hard as Thoko stared, she couldn''t see anyone out there. Was it just her own reflection, hiding whoever it was? But shouldn¡¯t she at least see a hand?


    The noise stopped as suddenly as it had started. For a few breathless seconds, the room was perfectly quiet. Just as Thoko thought that whoever had been out there might be gone, there was a knock on the door. Three times, then a pause, then another three raps. And then another three.


    ¡°Open it,¡± hissed their leader, whose blade was still pressed to Imani''s throat. The rest of the invaders only exchanged uneasy looks.¡°Quick! Jimmy, move!¡±


    The one who had pointed his gun at Thoko obeyed slowly, clearly reluctant to do so. He pressed his back to the wall right next to the door and hesitated again.


    ¡°Coward!¡± hissed the leader. ¡°In Mithras¡¯s name, move!¡±


    Jimmy bit his lips and gripped the handle, pushing the door open with a jerk. By then, there was nobody in sight. Instead, they all heard another rap against the window where it had first come from. It sounded more like knuckles than fingernails now.


    Jimmy stared down at the ground, clearly not about to cross the threshold to have a look. Rather than ordering him again, the leader sighed and waved at another guy. ¡°Tolve, go.¡±


    Dutifully, the man went and poked his head out into the night, gun raised. Thoko could see him frown, then step outside all the way, out of her sight.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing there! Must have been the wind!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way that was the wind,¡± Thoko whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from grinning in triumph when Jimmy wasn¡¯t the only thug who looked around uneasily.


    The leader noticed it, too. He sneered at her and drawled, ¡°Stop it, woman. You really think you can spook us with fairytales? There is no such thing as an invisible werewolf.¡±


    Thoko thought that it was working quite well indeed, but she wasn¡¯t sure how much further she could push it before one of them did something drastic. She was therefore a little surprised when behind her, a trembling voice said: ¡°But she was right there!¡±


    It was the quietly-sobbing maidservant. The girl pointed a shaking finger towards the living room, and added: ¡°She was right there, Mithras burn me, she was! With her cubs! We all saw her! Where did she go?¡±


    It was impossible to tell whether the young girl was trying to help or just terrified beyond reason.


    ¡°That our Lord Mithras will burn you, wench, that is beyond doubt,¡± growled the leader. ¡°Think about that, and do not trouble yourself with the question of where the beast ran off to. Enough of this nonsense. Go. Find the werewolf.¡±


    Tolve came back inside, and Jimmy slowly pushed away from the wall. He kept glancing into the night outside rather than focus on the staff he should be guarding. Just as the bastards set out to find Morgulon, the door smashed shut¡ªseemingly on its own. Thoko thought that even the gang¡¯s leader was starting to look a little unnerved.


    She was glad, glad that she had had a minute or two to get used to the idea that Morgulon might be stalking around them unseen. Because, while all the strangers were staring at the doors or the windows, trying to make out the unseen person or people rattling the glass panes and wood¡ªsomeone had grabbed her arm.


    She really, really hoped that it was Morgulon, and not some other, more malignant spirit that had chosen this night to stalk the premises. There was no sound behind her at all, only cold fingers taking her lower arms, first one, then the other, pulling them behind her back, where the guards wouldn¡¯t see them. Thoko was just about to clasp her hands together, to make the movement look at least somewhat natural, when something equally cold was pressed into her hands: It was some kind of wooden shaft, with only a hint of a grain to it, as if it had turned smooth from countless hands grabbing it. It felt familiar in Thoko¡¯s grip. Her exploring fingers found a sharp blade at the end.


    The werewolf had handed her an axe, already unsheathed.


    Thoko couldn¡¯t help herself, she had to glance back. She still couldn¡¯t spot Morgulon, but as soon as the Elder let go, the axe became visible in her hands, as if it had materialised right there: a good, sharp felling axe.


    Like a child caught with her hands in the sugar jar, Thoko spun and looked ahead again. Just as people turned away from the door, she shifted her grip, until the handle aligned with her spine, hiding the tool. She did feel like a child, hiding candy behind her back.


    Except that she wouldn¡¯t just be told off if she got caught.


    Ancestors, Morgulon had better have a plan beyond giving her a weapon. What was she supposed to do against seven of them?


    ¡°I believe I gave you an order? Find the beast!¡±


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    At the leader¡¯s shout, two of them trumped up the stairs, and two more went back down the hall towards where Morgulon¡¯s nest had been. As soon as they were out of sight, there was the faintest puff of wind on Thoko¡¯s face, like air displaced by someone walking past quickly. Or changing size?


    Thoko shifted her grip on the axe and listened for the clicking of claws on the tiles, but all she could hear was one of the servant boys yelping in surprise and pain. The boy pulled his bare foot back, hopping around on the other one, a movement that caught the attention of the three remaining bastards. They didn¡¯t realise Morgulon was right in the middle of them until the she-wolf¡¯s teeth closed around the leader¡¯s neck.


    The blood went everywhere, but mostly onto Imani¡¯s face. All she did was close her eyes, though. She didn¡¯t even flinch as the cursed werewolf teeth closed just inches away from her chin.


    It was one of those details that stuck with Thoko as she brought the axe forward, her hands finding their place on the handle on their own. She swung hard, just like at work, as if it wasn¡¯t a man in front of her but a tree. She had never fought for her life before, but this? This was second nature.


    And she did have the advantage of surprise. Jimmy never managed to aim his pistol. The blade of the axe bit him in the small of the back, and he went down, down in another spray of blood. Thoko changed her stance slightly, and swung again, from overhead this time, hitting the neck¡ªit wasn¡¯t an executioner¡¯s axe, so the cut wasn¡¯t clean, but at least she was certain that he wouldn¡¯t get up again.


    Tolve got a shot off, hitting Morgulon squarely in the chest. The werewolf crumpled, and in falling, turned human. She kneeled on the ground just long enough to shake herself, then jumped, turning wolf so fast it was just a shimmer in the air, like fluid coalescing¡ª


    And then the giant wolf was flying right at Tolve who hadn¡¯t even finished reaching for his crossbow.


    The slug hit the tiles with a klink.


    As Morgulon bore down on the man, one of the servants started screaming, as if they only now registered what was happening. Imani grabbed the man by the sleeve.


    ¡°Follow me!¡± she ordered, towing the man with her. She pulled a second woman along and through the door that led to the servant¡¯s quarters, out of the line of fire from the gallery on the first floor.


    Morgulon cleared the stairs in one leap, presumably to meet the two attackers who had gone to search the upper floors. Which apparently left Thoko to guard her back from the other two. She could hear them coming down the hall.


    As she leaned against the wall next to the hall¡¯s opening, she wondered what her father would think if he could see her right now¡ªhe had been a healer, after all, a man who would treat both sides once the fighting was over, who would never hurt another human being. Still, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to feel regret when she swung the axe again, surprising the first of the two men charging into the entrance hall.


    What a mess an axe to the face could make.


    The other one fired his pistol at her just as Thoko reversed directions to draw back for the next swing. His first shot grazed her ribs, the second one went completely wide, and then he was empty. He jumped backwards, reaching for his own sword. Thoko let the blade come around again with desperate strength, but he was out of reach. So she ducked around the corner herself.


    She couldn¡¯t duel him in the open. She was no fighter, but it was clear she was at a disadvantage here¡ªhe was taller than her; he¡¯d have both reach and speed on her. Especially with the injury to her side.


    Back pressed against the wall, she glanced around the corner. He was staring back at her, lips curled in a fixed grimace, both shocked and angry. Thoko snarled back. She couldn¡¯t feel it yet, the pain that was sure to come. All she did feel was fury. These bastards came here, to kill a mother and her innocent children, and this man had the gall to look upset, even surprised, that she was fighting him?


    She hadn¡¯t had an axe when the Inquisition had come to take her father, but she wished she had. She wasn¡¯t going to back down now.


    ¡°Witch!¡± he hissed at her. ¡°You¡¯re that black witch from the railway!¡±


    That made Thoko choke on a laugh. That¡¯s what they still thought of her? A witch?


    In that moment, she wished she were one¡ªsomeone with the powers of evil, the power to curse and harm. She¡¯d unleash it all right now, rip off his flesh and bend his bones the way Greg¡¯s bones got bent in every transformation and keep him alive while she did it. Curse his whole family and let him watch as they perished¡­


    But she was no witch. She had no magic and commanded no spirits. She was just a young woman, tired of feeling helpless. Tired of the pain.


    All she had was a sharp blade and the strength of her arms. And the head on her shoulders.


    He didn¡¯t know any of that, did he? He really thought she was an unsanctioned magic user. And a heathen, to boot.


    Well, he was right about that last part, at least.


    Now, how would this go if she were a witch?


    She tried to make a scary face, but had no idea how it would look. So instead, she opened her eyes as wide as she could, grimaced¡ªthen leaned over again and pointed at her own eyes with two fingers, gaping at them unblinking as long as she could, before pointing at him with the same fingers.


    ¡°I curse you!¡±


    Her voice rasped and she had to fight the urge to clear her throat. Rasp was good. Very witchy, right?


    ¡°By my blood, I curse you and all of your blood. By the spirits¡­¡±


    Thoko¡¯s voice broke. She¡¯d almost said ¡°by the spirits of my ancestors,¡± but the last thing she wanted was her father¡¯s soul to get caught up in this. And she didn¡¯t want to accidentally invoke a true malevolent entity, either.


    Upstairs, Morgulon barked sharply, buying her more time. And also giving her an idea.


    ¡°By the spirit of the full moon,¡± she went on. ¡°May it take your mind and leave you as a raging beast.¡±


    If there was a spirit of the full moon, it was surely upstairs right now, hunting the other two attackers down. She grinned at the furious scream around the corner, and continued:


    ¡°By the spirit of the waning moon, may it take your manhood with it as it fades. By the spirit of the, uh¡ª¡±


    She was saved from having to come up with another spirit when he came charging at her, screaming at her to stop cursing him.


    Obliging him, Thoko shut up and gripped the axe with both hands again. She swung it low, just as he came out of the archway, passing underneath the sword he held at guard, and hitting him in the knee. He fell¡ªjust like the pines in the forests around Sheaf would come down. Thoko didn¡¯t give him a chance to get up again. His spine broke with a crack and another splatter of blood.


    What a mess indeed. Two of the lamps lining the stairs had been broken¡ªThoko could only guess that Morgulon had torn them down by accident¡ªand there was a splatter of red even on the ceiling. Five bodies littered the entrance hall. While Thoko was staring around in a daze, a sixth one dropped over the bannister, pushed by Morgulon. The last one followed a moment later. Morgulon herself stopped at the stairhead. She was covered in blood, too. The werewolf sniffed, turned human, and gingerly climbed down the first step in a way that made Thoko wonder if she had ever walked stairs in this body at all. She¡¯d have gone to offer a hand, but her own legs suddenly refused to move.


    The pain along her left side was sharp. The blood trickling down her side tickled a little, but that only made the injury burn hotter. It palsied the muscles of her ribcage, making it painful and strenuous to breathe.


    She couldn¡¯t remember sitting down.


    The door flew open, and Lane came sprinting in, followed by the Feleke brothers and the rest of the group. Greg came to a sharp stop in front of Thoko, looming above her.


    ¡°Thoko, what¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± she managed when he broke off. ¡°¡®s okay, we dealt with them fine.¡±

 Chapter 125

    Lane crossed the entrance hall in three long steps, pulled forwards like a fish on the hook by a power greater than she¡ªtwo hooks, locked in place behind her ribs, right and left of her heart, pulling her up the stairs to where Morgulon had collapsed against the handrail.


    Was this what Greg felt like all the time in the presence of the Elders? Or was it the pain and fear that amplified Morgulon¡¯s powers?


    She was in a bad state. Two crossbow bolts had burrowed deep into her flesh, one right underneath her collarbone and one lower, just beneath the ribs. Lane helped her down the steps as gently as she could, where the werewolf collapsed again. But apparently, that was all the help Morgulon had wanted. She didn¡¯t say a word, but as soon as her head rested on the bottom step, Lane had the strangest urge to go back outside to the shed and¡ªfind the cubs?


    It took every ounce of willpower Lane possessed to stop herself from blindly running out the front door again. Morgulon needed help, a doctor, someone to at least staunch the bleeding¡ª


    As she stood there, feeling lost, David grabbed her by the arm. He took one look at her face, and didn¡¯t even ask how bad it was. Instead, he turned around to yell for Andrew.


    ¡°Get a message to Dr. Barnett as fast as possible,¡± he ordered. ¡°Kick him out of bed, I don¡¯t care, just get him here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Nathan said, stepping in before Andrew could say anything. ¡°Bairn is faster than Dolly any day.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± David said. He clapped Nathan on the back. ¡°Go.¡±


    Lane hurried out ahead of the Feleke. David seemed to know what to do, so she went to figure out why Morgulon wanted her at the shed and what the cubs had to do with that.


    In the dark, shaded even more by the little hut where the gardener kept his tools, she almost stumbled over the babies. If they hadn¡¯t been crying softly, she might have stepped on them.


    ¡°Some more warning would¡¯ve been nice, Morgulon,¡± she muttered to himself, kneeling down and feeling her way forward carefully.


    The little ones were cold, barely covered by their blanket. All five of them were holding onto each other, forming one tight bundle of unhappiness.


    Sun, she hoped that Morgulon would pull through.


    Since she didn¡¯t want to separate them, she did what Morgulon had probably done to get them out here in the first place, and dragged the whole cloth back towards the dressing room. Not that that was necessarily more comfortable for them. Landscaping the grounds clearly hadn¡¯t been high on the Feleke¡¯s list of priorities, so it wasn¡¯t exactly smooth golfing lawns.


    She got them back all right. Laurent stood ready to open the back door for them, and helped to get them over the sill without jumbling them around worse. The werewolf¡¯s golden eyes glowed faintly in the dark. It made Lane feel watched.


    While they put the babies back into their usual spot, Laurent asked: ¡°How did she get you? Human?¡±


    So at least she hadn¡¯t imagined all that. That was a bit of a relief. ¡°I wish I knew. I didn¡¯t even think it was possible for a werewolf to have that kind of power over a human.¡±


    Laurent considered that. He stroked one of the baby¡¯s heads, and shrugged. ¡°Promise? Debt? No blood relation¡­ Love?¡±


    ¡°She saved my life,¡± Lane said slowly. ¡°In the mountains. After I had shot her. You¡¯re saying that would¡ªhelp?¡±


    The werewolf shrugged again. ¡°Maybe? Not a mage. But possible. Conduit. Ask Pierre.¡±


    Lane nodded slowly. She wanted to ask him why he had mentioned love, but didn¡¯t quite dare.


    ¡°How is Morgulon?¡± she asked instead.


    Laurent looked over his shoulder, looking grim. ¡°Fading,¡± he said. ¡°Burning magic fast.¡± He glanced down on the babies again. ¡°Alive. For now.¡±


    ¡°David sent for the doctor,¡± Lane said. ¡°Let¡¯s hope¡­¡±


    She trailed off.


    ¡°Hope. Yes.¡± Laurent continued to stroke the babies¡¯ heads.


    She probably should go and check on Morgulon, shouldn¡¯t she? How bad could it be? Morgulon had survived several days with the barb in her shoulder that Lane had shot her with, with no assistance, nobody to even bandage the injury. The doctor should be here soon. He lived in the village, after all, Nathan should have him out of bed in no time at all.


    But the worried look on Laurent¡¯s face had her frozen in place. She couldn¡¯t make herself move. Like a child. If she didn¡¯t look, maybe it wouldn¡¯t hurt so much. If she wasn¡¯t there, the bad men would go away.


    ¡°Doctor,¡± Laurent asked. ¡°Close?¡±


    ¡°He lives here in the village,¡± Lane replied. ¡°Nathan is a fast rider. They should be here soon, yes.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    There wasn¡¯t really anything more to add, but Lane said, ¡°Yes, good,¡± anyway, just to fill the silence. When Laurent didn¡¯t reply, she picked up one of the baby boys, just to stop herself from asking about what exactly he had meant when he had brought up the topic of love.


    It was stupid, anyways. She certainly was indebted to Morgulon, it probably didn¡¯t need any other emotional connection for the she-wolf to find a¡ªa conduit for the magic. If there was anyone to talk to, it was Morgulon. Who certainly wasn¡¯t in the state to discuss deeper emotions right now.


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    In the corner of the room, a clock was ticking. Lane tried not to listen, but couldn¡¯t stop herself. The seconds seemed to drag on, but the minutes seemed to pile on top of each other, building way too fast. How long could it take to race into the village? Shouldn¡¯t Nathan be back by now? And what were they doing to Morgulon in the meantime?


    Even though she had been waiting for it, Lane nearly dropped the kid she was cradling when the door did fly open and Greg carried Thoko in, followed by Lady Imani who held a bag that already had dark stains on it. Lane put the baby down just in time for the dining room to her other side to open, too, and in came Andrew, carrying Morgulon, followed by Dr. Barnett, who was hopping along mostly on one foot since the other one was barefoot. While Andrew placed Morgulon on the dinner table as gently as possible, the doc kicked the other shoe away as well and banged his own bag onto the table. Two more werewolves silently followed in their wake.


    Lane jumped to her feet and took a few steps over, but then stopped in the open doorway between the drawing and the dining room. She hadn¡¯t said a word, and the doctor didn¡¯t look up, yet Barnett still growled: ¡°Either come on through and help, girl, or close the door. I don¡¯t need an audience for this. More of an audience,¡± he amended, looking over his shoulder at the two werewolves who had taken position to the right and left of the door.


    Lane nodded. ¡°Right, I¡¯ll just¡ª¡±


    ¡°Here. Hold onto this arm. Andrew, take the legs.¡±


    The doctor didn¡¯t wait for her to make up her mind. He was already handing Andrew a shawl of some soft fabric, followed by a silver chain, ordering: ¡°Wrap this around the ankles, as if you wanted to tie her feet together. Now this on top. Don¡¯t let it touch the skin. Don¡¯t close it, but do make sure the silver is continuous, I don¡¯t want her to turn when I start cutting. When I tell you to, take the chain away quickly and be ready for her to turn. Both of you. All right.¡±


    He pulled out a candle stump from his pack, realised there was a candelabra full of fresh ones on the table and lit one. Then he pulled out a smaller leather wrapper and folded it open. Lane shuddered at the assortment of blades, needles, and other strange devices inside. Barnett picked a short blade, tested its sharpness, placed it next to the candles. He very briefly but gingerly felt around the bolt heads, before holding the blade into the flame, muttering under his breath.


    A prayer, Lane thought, but no¡ªhe was counting down to zero, at which point he fanned the blade through the air to cool it.


    ¡°All right,¡± he said again. ¡°Get a good grip, both of you. The less she moves, the less this will hurt.¡±


    He barely waited for Lane and Andrew to get a hold of Morgulon again, just digging the blade into the flesh beneath her collarbone. Morgulon winced but didn¡¯t seem to have the strength to fight them. Her eyes rolled as the doctor cut away. It didn¡¯t seem particularly sophisticated, the way he slashed the flesh, no attempt at minimising the damage he did while getting to the silver. He didn¡¯t even try to stem the well of fresh blood. Instead, he moved right away to the second bolt, cutting it out much the same way, clearly going for speed over everything else.


    After barely two minutes he looked at Andrew and ordered: ¡°Now!¡±


    The Feleke promptly pulled the silver chain away. At once, Morgulon started changing shape. All the new cuts the doctor had made vanished as the flesh shifted. It wasn¡¯t a smooth transformation; Morgulon almost pushed herself off the table, and Lane had to lean with her whole weight against her to stop the fall.


    ¡°Now the hard part,¡± the doc muttered. He pulled a tightly folded packet of white linen from his bag, which revealed even more folds of a white, gauzy material.


    ¡°I need you to hold her still again,¡± the doctor ordered. ¡°Morgulon, if you are with us, this would be easier if you turn human. Unless you plan to stay wolf over new moon.


    ¡°No? Allright, I have¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, Morgulon shifted again. She curled up on the table, shivering.


    ¡°Oh, good,¡± Barnett muttered. ¡°I have something against the pain. Here, just let me¡­¡±


    He dribbled a dark brown tincture into Morgulon¡¯s mouth. ¡°It¡¯ll stop working if you transform again,¡± he warned. ¡°And I still need to pack and bandage the wounds.¡±


    Morgulon didn¡¯t react at all. Barnett sighed, but got on with the task at hand. ¡°Just hold her still until I¡¯m done.¡±


    He held a pair of tongues over the flame and then used them to stuff the white gauze into the wounds, like a cook might stuff a roast. Lane had to look away until he was done and moved onto wrapping it all in fresh linens.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s hope that¡¯ll do it,¡± he finally muttered. ¡°If we can¡¯t control the bleeding, I¡¯ll have to burn out the wounds, but that¡¯ll be another injury the werewolf healing won¡¯t work on, so we¡¯ll try this first¡­¡±


    He trailed off. ¡°Any chance of a cup of tea?¡± He patted Morgulon¡¯s ankle. ¡°If she¡¯s awake and can keep it down, she should eat, too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what can be done,¡± Andrew said. ¡°All the staff are up anyway.¡± He paused, halfway to the door, and turned around again. ¡°Actually, let me take her somewhere more comfortable, first.¡±


    He picked Morgulon up as if she weighed nothing at all, and Lane quickly opened the door to the next room, so he could carry her over to rest closer to her children. Greg jumped up when he saw them, and threw one of the blankets the cubs usually played on over the closest couch. The werewolves all gathered around, even Pierre and his pack, watching worriedly as Andrew put her down. The room was cramped. Even though three of the Feleke Four were missing.


    Where was David? And Nathan? Lord Feleke wasn¡¯t there, either.


    ¡°They went to see if there are any accomplices of these attackers around,¡± Lady Imani explained. ¡°Thoko and Morgulon killed the seven who came here, it would be helpful if there was somebody left to question.¡±


    ¡°Has there been any word from other postings?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Was this the only attack, I mean?¡±


    ¡°We haven¡¯t heard anything, no. I did have a telegram sent to the palace and the company to warn them, but haven¡¯t heard anything back.¡±


    ¡°But it reached Deva? And Eoforwic?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been assured that the line is fine. It¡¯s probably just that it¡¯s the middle of the night. If there¡¯s no emergency, people are fast asleep.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope,¡± Lane muttered. They had targeted the other three Elders from Oldstone Castle last time. And now Morgulon. The babies.


    Imani pursed her lips. ¡°It¡¯s high time that we go back to Deva. It¡¯s ridiculous that the Duke expects David to take care of everything werewolf related on his own, it¡¯s not like he can cut himself in two.¡±


    And David was the wrong one for half of the job in any case, was what Imani didn¡¯t say. Not for politics. It should have been Andrew, if it had to be one of the four, or possibly Greg. Lane was fairly certain that in David¡¯s place, she would have at least been able to avoid that pointless duel with Count deVale. One couldn¡¯t just ignore a man and an accusation like that and hope it would all blow over.


    Five frozen hells, Imani would have danced through all that without a scratch, Lane was certain of that.


    But neither of them had the clout that David had, the fame. Neither of them was ¡°Hero of Oldstone Castle¡± and that mattered, as much as it hindered them.


    Baron Feleke possibly came close, but he had been so passive the past few months¡ªthe past two years since Greg had been bitten¡ªthat Lane wasn¡¯t sure about how much influence he might wield at court at this point. And he certainly didn¡¯t have the hero worship of the common soldiers.

 Chapter 126

    The sun was rising by the time David, Nathan and Bram returned to the house. Empty handed, again. Nathan cursed softly while climbing out of the saddle, and David wholeheartedly agreed. Another damn failure.


    He should have been there. Should have stayed. It shouldn¡¯t have been Morgulon¡ªand Thoko of all people¡ªwho defended the house. Not that she hadn¡¯t done a good job at it. But she shouldn¡¯t have had to. Hell, at the very least, she should have had a proper weapon to do it.


    He shouldn¡¯t have been such an idiot. Again.


    All they had found were the attackers¡¯ horses, some train tickets. Neither of them had been considerate enough to carry a letter from whoever was behind this on them.


    The bastards had taken the train from Deva, and David hated that more than anything else, because he knew a few of them. He had given their names and descriptions to Desmarais, back when he¡¯d started rounding up potential dissenters. They had been on the lists of hunters the guards at the city gates were supposed to look out for, they shouldn¡¯t have been able to just walk into Deva Central Station and board a train to Brines of all places¡­


    But they had.


    And he had no idea what else he could do to prevent something like this from happening again, asides from locking all the werewolves up someplace like First Camp, under the guard of people he could trust.


    There were so very few people he could trust, and one of them had just gotten hurt, defending Morgulon and her cubs with a damn logging axe. He¡¯d have to teach Thoko how to shoot a pistol, possibly use a sword, too. If she was going to jump into fights like a swashbuckler, she needed to be armed like one, too.


    And he needed to change the schedule again. There was no way Morgulon would be fit to travel to Deva tomorrow.


    How long could he stay absent from the capital? Grooch was capable, but he would still need his input. Even if that just meant that David signed stuff. George Louis would want him back, too. And who knew what the palace rumour mill would come up with in his absence. Especially since he seemed incapable of keeping the werewolves safe from harm. He didn¡¯t need Lane¡¯s lessons in politics to realise that this would look bad once word got around.


    Perhaps that was the whole point of these attacks. Scaring the werewolves and showing him up at the same time. Prove, beyond doubt, that the duke¡¯s right hand man was badly chosen, unworthy of the responsibility placed on him. Who would trust a king who named his advisors so badly?


    They didn¡¯t even have to kill an elder for it to work, did they? Enough near misses, and the werewolves were bound to lose faith that he was even trying to protect them.


    ¡°Go to sleep, David,¡± Bram pulled him out of his thoughts.¡±You need to get some rest.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°And what do you plan to do instead?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I need to figure out before I go to sleep. Unless you have an idea?¡±


    David pushed past his father, not really expecting an answer, to see how Morgulon and Thoko were doing. But Bram tagged along, rubbing his beard.


    ¡°I might have,¡± he said. ¡°If Thoko is up for it.¡±


    David stopped to turn and look at his father, surprised that Bram would offer a suggestion. It sometimes felt like he hadn¡¯t done anything since Greg had gotten bitten.


    He wasn¡¯t angry at his father, he wasn¡¯t! It wasn¡¯t like he didn¡¯t understand, at least in part. But it was still a surprise, to hear him say this, now.


    ¡°And if she is? What would you have her do?¡±


    ¡°We call in the press,¡± Bram said. ¡°Have them take pictures of the dead. Especially the ones that weren¡¯t killed by Morgulon. Put Thoko in the most demure dress we can find and let her tell the journalists how even with the element of surprise on their side, seven Valoisian men weren¡¯t enough to get past her and her axe. You know how these people think about women. Make these bastards into a joke. Hell, let¡¯s downplay her age, make it a girl who killed them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in!¡±


    Thoko¡¯s voice was a bit raspy, but she was clearly awake enough to have heard them. When David walked into the drawing room, she was sitting up, Greg leaning against her shoulder. He seemed to be asleep.


    ¡°If you think it¡¯ll do some good, I¡¯m in,¡± Thoko repeated as soon as she saw David. He looked to his mother, whose expression was stark. She didn¡¯t smile until she realised that David was watching her. So she wasn¡¯t particularly impressed with her husband¡¯s idea.


    ¡°It should buy us some time,¡± Imani said. ¡°But did you find out where these men came from?¡±


    ¡°Deva,¡± David sighed. ¡°I recognize three of them, hunters we worked with in the past. They were on several wanted lists, I had them put there myself. I have no idea how they made it into the city and onto the train without anyone stopping them.¡±


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    ¡°Someone might have sheltered them in Deva all along,¡± Imani pointed out. ¡°It¡¯s clear that there¡¯s a traitor at the palace, considering what¡¯s been going on.¡±


    ¡°Well, they didn¡¯t leave a calling card,¡± David replied sullenly.


    ¡°It does appear Deva is the place to be,¡± Imani went on. ¡°I will accompany Morgulon once she is fit to travel. In the meantime, Bram is not wrong¡ªit would certainly help if we can control the narrative of what happened here.¡±


    So they contacted Greg¡¯s new friends from the Eoforwic Tribunal, who were already up and just too happy to bring a camera out to the house. Thoko talked to them in the salon. Imani sat at her side with one of the girls from the kitchen: a sweet face framed by blonde curls, in a prim white apron, to recall the tale of how the brutes from Valoir had invaded the house, before Thoko told them how she had repelled them. Morgulon was barely mentioned at all, and the journalists didn¡¯t ask. Apparently, a story about plucky Loegrian girls dealing a blow to the Empire would sell better than another werewolf tale.


    They¡¯d have the frontpage in the midday edition and a longer article in the evening run, and Mr. Dawson assured David that the articles would be sold to other papers, too. So word was sure to spread, of the Valoir and their failure. That was¡ªsomething.


    David still couldn¡¯t stop himself from pacing, tired as he was. Lane sat with Morgulon and Dr. Barnett, who had to change the bandages every few hours, Imani was writing ever more letters, as did Bram. There was nothing for David to do, and he resented that. Mainly because he still couldn¡¯t find the calm to rest.


    ¡°Want to go for a ride?¡± Nathan stopped him the next time he came by the dining room. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he added, before David could even make up his mind. Andrew got up, too, and the two of them dragged him outside, to the stables, ignoring his protest.


    The fresh air helped. The spring sun was bright but not too warm yet, and the horses were running eagerly. The rush of the wind in his ears managed to quiet his circling thoughts. Nathan¡¯s excited whooping helped, too.


    When the horses slowed, David knew what he was going to do next. He turned to his younger brothers. ¡°Will you be coming to Deva, too?¡±


    ¡°Sounds like the city''s the place where it¡¯s happening,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Not exactly thrilled to go, but who knows? Maybe I¡¯ll get lucky and someone challenges me to a duel, too.¡±


    David shuddered and rubbed the graze on his arm.


    ¡°Want to wait here until Morgulon gets better, or will you travel with me to Deva today?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding,¡± Andrew growled.


    David shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s nothing I can do here. Or Pierre, for that matter. All we¡¯re doing is wasting time.¡±


    ¡°You think the pack will go with you?¡± Andrew asked. ¡°After what just happened here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find out, I guess.¡±


    And if they didn¡¯t? He¡¯d still need to go himself. DeVale hadn¡¯t been fit enough to visit before he had left for Brines, so that was a talk he still needed to have. And he wanted to check on Grooch, too. Make sure there had been no further attacks. Or attempts to steal his ¡°seal.¡±


    It was noon before they made it back, so David breached the topic to the werewolves at lunch. Annabelle agreed before he had even finished speaking. She was probably eager to see her son. Having her commit so quickly made it easier to convince the others, too.


    It was a pain to rearrange the whole plan¡ªhe had meant to leave with the pack hours ago¡ªbut the railway company was helpful for once. So a couple of hours later, Pierre¡¯s pack and four of the other five werewolves stood with David at the terminal in Eoforwic main station. Only Laurent, next oldest after Morgulon and Pierre, would stay at Brines in case there was another emergency at the railway. Nathan and Andrew had decided to stay and guard Morgulon, just in case, until she was fit for travel.


    ***


    People in Eoforwic barely even stared at the werewolves'' unusual eyes and hair colourations anymore. It had become just another sight to see on the northern railway lines. In Deva, on the other hand, the situation was very different. Almost nobody in the capital had ever seen a living, free werewolf. David had asked them to wear the uniforms they had been issued, in the hopes that people would recognize that they were ¡°official¡± werewolves rather than ¡°wild¡± ones. It only helped some: there was still a persistent, scandalised murmur following them across Deva Central Station, and a wave flowing around them¡ªsometimes frothing¡ªas people pressed in to have a closer look and others backed away in horror.


    David glared around. They had been supposed to meet a squad of city guards right at the platform for exactly this reason. The men were only now making their way through the crowd, even though the train had been on time. One young man clutched his long halbert nervously as they took up the escort, glaring at the werewolves. David made a mental note to have him replaced. He¡¯d asked for men seasoned in fighting the Rot at the White Torrent¡¯s shores, in the hopes that they would have a better appreciation for the necessity of hiring the werewolves, and for the most part, it seemed to work.


    They crossed the station and got onto a different train to the village of Windish. It was a prosperous place, had been so even before the railway, and belonged to the widespread viceroy¡¯s estates. One of his married daughters resided at the manor house overlooking the village. It was there that David took the pack, to meet Duke Desmerais himself.


    The werewolves seemed to appreciate the gesture, though there was a bit of disappointment that they wouldn¡¯t stay at the manor, but rather one of the auxiliary buildings. An old farmhouse, repurposed to a sort of communal sleeping room. It had only one large room, with beds lined up against one wall, a table for eating, and a stove.


    It wasn¡¯t what David would have chosen, but at least it wasn¡¯t a stable, either.


    ¡°Not as nice as Brines,¡± Remy noted promptly.


    ¡°Better than a prison cell,¡± Alister replied. ¡°The roof doesn¡¯t seem to leak, and you get your own bed. I bet you that¡¯s nicer than what most labourers get in the big city.¡±


    ¡°Still not as nice as Brines,¡± Remy shrugged.


    Alister growled at him, but Pierre shut them both up by lightly clapping his hands. ¡°What Alister is trying to say, I think is: Don¡¯t complain where the humans can hear you, Remy. Especially not poor humans.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t see any of those around here,¡± Remy muttered, but he walked over to lay down on one of the beds, pat the pillows. ¡°We going to stay here, then? Till there¡¯s some fight somewhere?¡±


    ¡°I want to take you into the palace,¡± David replied. ¡°Give soldiers and the watch a chance to talk to you. Some Lords and Ladies, too. So there¡¯ll be some visits at the very least. If all goes well, you will be able to go into Deva alone, too. But I first need to figure out who was behind that attack on Morgulon, and make sure it¡¯s safe.¡±

 Chapter 127

    David left the werewolves under the guard of the Desmarais family forces. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep them safe from any insurgents. The Duke already had a small army stationed around the house, to protect his eldest daughter. She was with child, and the guards were on their toes. It was hard to imagine a safer place for the pack¡ªunless one of the soldiers went for them.


    And there was nothing he could do to prevent that.


    So David left the werewolves and went back home. He needed a good night¡¯s rest before he called on deVale. He wasn¡¯t looking forward to it, but it had to be done. He needed to find out who the count had talked to.


    So the next morning, he got dressed up in a fine suit and took a cab to the deVale estates in the city. A butler took his card and vanished back inside. Word of the duel had clearly spread to the household, because they made David wait outside in the rain rather than in the parlour or even the hallway. David tried his best not to mind too much, and he was mostly still calm when he was led not into a reception room but deVale¡¯s personal study.


    It was a nice enough room, David supposed. One wall was lined with portraits of deVale¡¯s ancestors, two more covered in bookshelves. Where the walls were visible, they were covered in Valoisian silk papers, showing large colourful floral motifs. The carpets on the floor were no less rich. The upholstery of the couch opposite the desk mirrored the wall¡¯s patterns.


    The count sat behind his desk in a plush wingback armchair. David got the distinct impression that it was mostly the chair that kept him upright rather than his own strength. His head leaned against the wing on the right, and his face was the only pale thing amidst all the bright colours of the room. He looked like he¡¯d lost weight, too.


    When David entered, deVale straightened up with visible effort, but didn¡¯t stand.


    ¡°The Honourable David Feleke,¡± he growled. ¡°I¡¯m surprised there still hasn¡¯t been a promotion for the Hero of Oldstone Castle.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not after a promotion.¡±


    ¡°Of course you aren¡¯t. You¡¯re a man of honour and duty, after all. A true patriot. So what brings you here? Came to gloat?¡±


    David clenched his teeth together. He considered simply sitting down, since it didn¡¯t look like the count was going to offer him a seat, but decided not to prove the man right by acting that coarsely.


    ¡°During our duel, someone attacked my secretary, searched my office, and attempted to steal my seals to write orders to have some of our more valuable werewolves killed. Since the timing is more than suspicious, I have to assume that you were used to distract me.¡±


    He watched deVale closely, but the count only looked blank. Confused. When the man didn¡¯t answer, David added: ¡°Or perhaps you would like to confess to orchestrating the robbery? It does seem somewhat strange that whoever was behind this didn¡¯t yet attempt to cut off a loose end.¡±


    ¡°Robbery,¡± deVale repeated. He blinked at David owlishly from pale eyes. Either he was an incredibly good actor, or he truly was gobsmacked. ¡°You were robbed? While we fought?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I just told you.¡±


    ¡°And you think I was behind that?¡±


    David considered lying, but then he sighed. ¡°Do you think I¡¯d have walked in here, alone, if I really thought so? No, I believe you were just a convenient tool to keep me distracted. Who told you that I cheated in the race for Lady deLande¡¯s favour?


    At that question, deVale¡¯s eyes sharpened. ¡°You think I was made. Do you think I can¡¯t tell when I¡¯m being manipulated?¡±


    ¡°Either that, or it was you who planned this attack, yes,¡± David replied calmly.


    ¡°Or you did cheat.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please. I have hunted werewolves all my life, and you truly think I can¡¯t take on a lynx?¡±


    ¡°You have claimed to hunt werewolves all your life. Yet you let your brother walk away unscathed, long before the new laws were passed. And isn¡¯t it true that your brothers were always at your side?¡±


    The count gave him a challenging look, but David just shrugged. ¡°Ask any hunter you would like about me,¡± he said. ¡°Or¡ªin fact, did you happen to talk to any of these men?¡±


    He pulled out the photographs of the seven attackers Morgulon and Thoko had killed. The technology wasn¡¯t yet up to catching moving people, but these seven had held very still indeed.


    DeVale blanched further, if that was even possible, at the sight of what Thoko¡¯s axe and Morgulon¡¯s teeth had done. After a brief hesitation, he did, very gingerly, reach out to take the pictures.


    ¡°These people attacked your office?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No. These men attacked my family at home, to kill the first werewolves born on Loegrian soil in decades. And their mother.¡±


    DeVale put the pictures down onto his desk, to stare at David. ¡°They attacked your home? The nerve! Here in Deva? Or at Courtenay?¡±


    ¡°The new estate at Brines,¡± David replied curtly.


    ¡°Valoisian Dogs,¡± deVale growled. ¡°Him.¡± He pointed at a face, disconnected from the body by a sharp blade. ¡°I met him at court. He did cast doubt on your abilities. Claimed he hunted with you in a ¡°pack hunt¡± at the coast. Claimed it was then that your brother was bitten, too.¡±


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    That was all true, David had to admit. The man in the picture had been one of the shooters at that fateful hunt.


    ¡°Am I correct in assuming that it was no coincidence that you met Raoul Desantis of all people? Who facilitated the contact?¡±


    DeVale frowned. ¡°I did,¡± he said slowly. ¡°I asked around for people who had hunted with you. I¡ªkept hearing whispers about our contest¡­ Even down south¡­ Just rumours. Nobody claimed to know anything definite, but everyone kept hinting¡­¡±


    ¡°Who is ¡°everyone¡±?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Marques Pettau mentioned an ¡°irregularity¡±. Count deVries kept pointing out how easy it would have been for the Countess to tell you where to find the lynx¡­ Upon my return, it was Picot who¡ªbut I heard he bet heavily on your victory, so it may be he just saw an opportunity to make money from this affair¡­¡±


    He leaned his head back against the chair¡¯s wing. ¡°There were others. In fact, nearly every lady I spoke with upon my return had a remark on how I had been cheated out of the Countess¡¯s favour¡ªsome even blamed her for the situation!¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I cannot tell you who was just hoping to curry favour with me and who truly believed this rumour, who may have instigated it or who was just in it for the spectacle of seeing us fight. I would not wish to blame an innocent, Lord Feleke, not in this. Truly, it was your refusal to speak to me on the matter that convinced me more than all the taunts. Perhaps you should ask yourself who advised you of that strategy.¡±


    Nobody. That had been all his own foolishness. Or had it?


    But no. Generally, people had tried to convince him to talk to deVale.


    ¡°Who pointed you towards Desantis?¡± David asked out loud.


    ¡°Lord Carter introduced us. He hoped the conversation would bring me to let the matter rest.¡±


    Except it hadn¡¯t. So very unhelpful, all of it.


    ¡°Fine. If you remember anything else, I hope you will contact me. In the meantime, I advise you to find more guards. At least until you are fully recovered.¡±


    ¡°You think they would dare to threaten me?¡±


    ¡°They put a blade to my mother¡¯s neck, Count deVale. If they think you may be a danger to them? I doubt they would hesitate a heartbeat to shoot you in the back.¡±


    ¡°Dogs,¡± deVale growled again. ¡°I will take your words under consideration. Though I would think you are in more danger.¡±


    ¡°They seem to be quite happy to watch me make a fool of myself,¡± David grumbled. ¡°And I do believe that whoever is behind this can shake the werewolves¡¯ trust in us much more thoroughly if they keep targeting them and not me.¡±


    DeVale frowned, but then nodded. ¡°Just as they no doubt profit from division in our ranks.¡±


    David smiled wryly. ¡°I would imagine they were quite put out that we didn¡¯t kill each other.¡±


    DeVale¡¯s face darkened. ¡°I want to meet your werewolves,¡± he said. ¡°And talk to other hunters. I am willing to believe we¡¯ve been played, but that doesn¡¯t mean there was no truth in the accusation.¡±


    ¡°If that makes you happy,¡± David shrugged. ¡°I have no idea what you even hope to accomplish at this point, but feel free. I escorted nine werewolves to Windish yesterday, I think they would be happy to meet you.¡±


    ¡°What about your brother?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll come to Deva as soon as the werewolf injured in the attack is fit for travel.¡±


    ¡°How long have you and Countess deLande been an item?¡±


    The sudden change of topic took David off guard. He wondered what it was the Count hoped to hear, and since he had no idea, he settled on a bit of truth.


    ¡°We had not started courting when the challenge was set,¡± he replied. ¡°While we grudgingly respected each other as fellow professionals, there was an old animosity between our fathers that prevented us from being cordial. I already knew she didn¡¯t share Leon deLande¡¯s silly superstitions and pointless rituals, but it was only the task of bringing werewolves in alive that made me realise that her father¡¯s moral failings were not hers.¡±


    ¡°What moral failings?¡±


    ¡°Cruelty.¡±


    David wondered how to explain Leon deLande¡¯s madness, but then simply left it at that.


    ¡°So you are saying it was her who fell for you first? Hardly believable.¡±


    David had to take a deep breath to stop himself from raising his voice. ¡°I would not presume to guess on the lady¡¯s feelings,¡± he said tersely. ¡°Nor would I presume to speak for her.¡±


    DeVale stared at him, eyes narrowed. ¡°Yet the contest she staged was eminently in your favour.¡±


    David wanted to roll his eyes so very badly. Here was a man who just would not take No for an answer. ¡°Of course it was. Would you that she challenged us in embroidery? She is a huntress. Any contest she meant to win would have been in my favour.¡±


    The count chewed on that, then brightened. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that her mind may not be fully made up? Splendid!¡±


    ¡°The countess¡¯s choice remains her own,¡± David sighed. ¡°And I do think she¡¯s quite made up her mind.¡±


    DeVale looked annoyed at that. ¡°But clearly, you¡¯re no good for her! A woman as beautiful as her, a lady as highborn¡ªshe¡¯s far too good to be dealing with monsters and¡ªand beast people! If I could trust you to keep her safe, offer her the life she deserves¡ªnot encourage her wild ways¡­¡±


    David did roll his eyes at that. He had wondered why Lane loathed the man so, but it was becoming clearer with every word the count uttered.


    ¡°The countess¡¯s choice remains her own,¡± David repeated. ¡°Didn¡¯t we go to war to stop the Valoise from taking these ancient rights away from us? What a shame it would be if we were to diminish them ourselves now. Incidentally, has there been anyone who encouraged you to press your advances on the countess?¡±


    ¡°Why would you care?¡± deVale growled.


    ¡°Just a passing thought.¡± Someone was carefully hiding their tracks. But could a person like this truly hide their deepest convictions all the time?


    ¡°It just occurred to me that whoever was behind this may be too smart to show how they really think about werewolves, but perhaps they slipped up elsewhere?¡±


    DeVale glared at him as if trying to kill him with his thoughts alone. Finally, he replied: ¡°Half the southern lords think of their wives as their property, if that¡¯s what you mean. I do not see how that relates to my desire to protect Countess deLande, and I resent the implication!¡±


    He rose at the last words, then sunk back into his chair again, taking a few shaky breaths. He looked pained, like he had torn his wounds open again.


    David stared at him, somewhat amazed how a man could be so dense. He considered arguing the point further, but he¡¯d probably need a hammer to get through the count¡¯s skull. And he hadn''t brought one.


    Time to leave then. It didn¡¯t seem like he was going to get any more information, and there was no point in taxing the count further, even if he had been supremely unhelpful.


    ¡°Stubborn fool,¡± David muttered as he stepped outside onto the street. He rested his hand on the grip of his sword. If deVale didn¡¯t leave Lane be, he would challenge him to another fight. And he wouldn¡¯t pull his punches a second time.

 Chapter 128

    Somebody screamed. It was a shrill, piercing cry of terror, almost as loud as the whistle of the steam engine venting pressure just as Morgulon climbed out of their wagon at Deva station. Greg winced and Nathan¡¯s horse Bairn danced nervously at the noise. People were running away from them, down the platform. Only the six guards that waited for their group looked comfortingly unruffled at the sight of the giant, limping she-wolf. Their leader saluted Bram, and his men took positions around Morgulon and the mules that carried the baskets the cubs travelled in.


    Greg found himself outside the ring of guards, just like the rest of his family, Thoko and her mother, and Lane deLande. On Bram¡¯s question, the leader saluted again and explained: ¡°His lordship¡¯s orders were to protect the werewolves specifically. We can of course do a wider cordon, if you wish.¡±


    ¡°I was only curious as to your orders,¡± Bram said mildly. ¡°Carry on.¡±


    So they simply hadn¡¯t realised that he was a werewolf, too. Greg wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand it meant that the nervous crowd on the platform didn¡¯t spare him a second glance¡ªbut he was a little worried that potential attackers might know more about him.


    His father seemed to think similarly.


    ¡°Walk with me, Greg,¡± Bram said, and waved Nathan to walk on Greg¡¯s other side. Thoko followed with Imani behind them. They were both armed, too. Andrew had used the past few days to teach Thoko how to use a pistol.


    Nothing happened, though. Not to Greg, at least. Morgulon¡¯s appearance in the city in her wolf form nearly caused a mass panic, and their entourage ended up blowing their whistles for reinforcements from the city watch.


    Maybe they should have waited for the moon to wane again. But David had pushed for them to come here as soon as Morgulon could make the journey.


    So here they were, on the day before full moon. Seven werewolves in the heart of a city that was not ready for them.


    A couple of servants had quit when they had heard about Greg¡¯s arrival. Imani had managed to bring in replacements from Courtenay, but it still hurt. Clara, the cook, had known him nearly all his life.


    Mr. Higgins showed up soon after they arrived at the house, greeting everyone excitedly and eager to see the cubs. This close to full moon, even Greg¡¯s two daughters were little wolves, so he didn¡¯t have to explain how he had found himself a father.


    Morgulon grumbled a bit about it, but let Greg show the litter to his tutor.


    ¡°Professor Audenne would give his left arm to see this, I¡¯m sure. Has he¡­?¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡±


    He¡¯d surely show up one of these days. It would be easy now. The railway line to Mannin had started service, even though the bridge across the Savre was nowhere near finished. Trains had to stop at the river camps and wares had to be unloaded, cross the river via oxen carts, and then be loaded onto a different train. It was still much faster than going by boat or mail coach. Even though the river could only be crossed in daylight and if it rained, it was essential to have a werewolf on guard lest the drivers steer their carts over the railings. But still¡ªwhat had been a two weeks journey on the fastest mail coach going from Deva to Mannin was now a two days trip. Three for the heavier freights.


    And the lines advanced further every day, supported by the growing numbers of safe, stable, tame, good, official werewolves.


    ¡°Would you like to go into the city tonight?¡± Mr. Higgins interrupted Greg¡¯s train of thought. ¡°There¡¯s a new play up at the Royal Theatre¡ªthe Imperial already renamed themselves, not sure if you heard?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡ªI hadn¡¯t heard.¡±


    Sun, he wanted to go. Especially since it was the first night of full moon and he needed to stay up anyway.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if¡­¡± he trailed off. ¡°I¡¯ll have to see what David says,¡± he said. ¡°If it¡¯s okay that I go. Tonight.¡±


    Where was David anyway? What could be more important than welcoming his family in the city?


    Was it dinner time yet? Could he get some food?


    ¡°I see,¡± Mr. Higgins said, slowly. ¡°Perhaps you would like to tell me what has occurred since we last spoke? Or would you prefer to hear some gossip from Deva?¡±


    ¡°Gossip,¡± Greg said, relieved. ¡°Or, do you get journals? From Professor Audenne? The other researchers?¡±


    ¡°I do, I do. Come on!¡± Mr. Higgins led the way to the little pavilion in the garden, where they used to have lessons, back before¡ªback before everything. It was familiar, and the servants didn¡¯t stare at him like a circus attraction. Thoko brought a tray of snacks, just as Mr. Higgins launched into a summary of the statistics that had been done and the methods used by the researchers.


    It helped. It helped far more than Greg had expected, to dive deep into the maths behind the neat percentages David had already told him about. The wolf didn¡¯t understand a word of it, hell, his brothers probably wouldn¡¯t understand much, either. But it was a purely human thing, and it seemed to¡ªto bore the growling thing in the back of his head, until it shut up and¡ªthe best way Greg could explain it was that it went to sleep. It didn¡¯t go away, but it was no longer right there, right underneath his skin, fighting to break out.


    Greg never noticed when David came in, but when he reached out absent-mindedly and found the tray of food empty, his brother pushed away from where he had leaned against a wall.


    ¡°I¡¯ll find you something more,¡± he promised, and walked out again.


    Greg blinked after him. ¡°What? How long¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Not long,¡± Thoko replied.


    ¡°About twenty minutes,¡± Mr. Higgins added. ¡°He waved at me to continue. You really didn¡¯t notice?¡±


    Greg nodded. David was back quickly, with what looked like dinner. It was still long enough for the beast to stir restlessly.


    ¡°Hello Greg,¡± David started, but Greg interrupted him: ¡°Can I go into the city? Tonight? See a play with Mr. Higgins?¡±


    ¡°Can I come too?¡± Thoko asked.


    David paused, looking back and forth between them. Not long. And then he nodded, and Greg felt tears of relief fill his eyes. He quickly grabbed some of the bread his brother had brought out, surprised by his own reaction.


    Sun, how he hated full moon.


    ¡°Mind if I go with you?¡± David asked.


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    ¡°That a requirement?¡±


    ¡°Nope. Desmerais gave his okay for you to go wherever you want in the city. Except for tomorrow night, of course.¡±


    Greg wasn¡¯t sure he believed that. And it was probably stupid for him to go without one of his brothers. ¡°You¡¯d really let me go alone?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°I thought you were going to go with Mr. Higgins. And yes. I¡¯m not going to saddle you with my presence if you don¡¯t want me to come.¡±


    ¡°Have you heard from Gustave?¡± Mr. Higgins asked. ¡°Maybe he would like to go, too?¡±


    A shudder ran down Greg¡¯s spine. ¡°No, I¡ªthere¡¯s letters, but I didn¡¯t look if he wrote back to me.¡±


    There were stacks of mail on the decorative buffet in the hallway, sorted by recipients. Greg had seen his mother whisk away the biggest one right after they had arrived. What if Gustave hadn¡¯t answered him? Or if he had, only to write he didn¡¯t want to hear from him anymore?


    ¡°Well, why don¡¯t you?¡± Mr. Higgins suggested. He looked excited at the idea.


    ¡°Have you been in contact?¡±


    ¡°Not much, unfortunately. Gustave¡¯s family dragged him south. I don¡¯t know what happened then, but he and his mother came back. You know Gustave¡¯s grandparents, right? It must have been a big fight.¡±


    One hell of a fight, indeed. And Greg still wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted to look at the letters right now. Might be smarter to do it on new moon.


    ¡°They came back,¡± Mr. Higgins said gently. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that means something?¡±


    It certainly meant they were loyal to Loegrion. Not necessarily that Gustave wanted a werewolf for a friend.


    ¡°I did see a letter for you with the deBire¡¯s crest when I sorted the mail,¡± David said quietly. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to look at it tonight. It¡¯ll keep for another night or three.¡±


    Greg nodded, uncertain. He didn¡¯t want to keep Gustave waiting another three days. Not if he was still willing to talk.


    But if he wasn¡¯t¡­


    He reached for more food. There were slices of roast¡ªnot as nice as Clara used to make it. But the cook had left because of him. He tried not to let it bother him, but it did. And Gustave running away from him would hurt even worse.


    But it would hurt just as bad three days from now. At least tonight there¡¯d be a new play to distract him a little.


    ¡°Can I see the letter?¡±


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll get it.¡±


    David went. A minute later, Nathan took his place.


    ¡°I hear you¡¯re going out tonight. You set on that theatre thing? How about we hit a pub instead?¡±


    ¡°I hear it¡¯s a very good play,¡± Mr. Higgins said before Greg could open his mouth.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it is. But it¡¯s almost full moon, so Greg won¡¯t get drunk no matter what we give him.¡±


    ¡°You can get drunk every other night.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no, Mr. Higgins, please, you¡¯ve never seen a werewolf drink on full moon night. Damn it, we should have asked if Remy wants to come. Or Pierre. I bet the old man can put them away, too. We could fleece the punters out of their last penny, taking bets.¡±


    ¡°You could come with us,¡± Thoko pointed out. ¡°To the theatre, I mean. Go out drinking afterwards. The moon won¡¯t set until, what, five am? Plenty of time to do both.¡±


    ¡°Eh. What sort of play?¡±


    Greg let the discussion wash over him while he plundered the tray of food. The roast was fine. Nathan helped himself, too, and waved at Thoko and Mr. Higgins to do the same.


    It wasn¡¯t quite as comfortable as the dining room, but it was relaxed. Easy. Right until David returned with a whole stack of letters.


    ¡°You said there was one!¡± Greg groaned. ¡°Not half a dozen!¡±


    "These are mostly old,¡± David said, as if that made anything better. ¡°From right after you were bitten, I mean. I don¡¯t even remember what Dad told people where you had run off to.¡±


    ¡°Railway,¡± Nathan said promptly, mouth full.


    ¡°But they¡¯re all from Gustave?¡± Greg grabbed the letters when David held them out. They were all from Gustave.


    Damn it, he should have written more. That one letter he had sent before his second trip into the mountains seemed terribly insufficient at the sight of the stacks of envelopes.


    ¡°You never said,¡± Greg complained. ¡°I had no idea¡­¡±


    That these letters had been waiting for him for almost two years.


    He flipped the stack over and ripped open the letter that was now on top. Hopefully, it would be the oldest one.


    ¡°Dear Gregory,¡± it started.


    ¡°You¡¯re a bloody fool, I hope you know that? Weren¡¯t the werewolves dangerous enough for you? What did you have to go and join the railway for?


    At least tell me it¡¯s not the Lackland company.


    But of course it is, isn¡¯t it? You wouldn¡¯t settle for half measures. Look, if you¡¯re trying that you¡¯re madder still than the rest of your family, why didn¡¯t you just join a crusade? There¡¯s more glory to be had in the sands abroad than in the forests of Loegrion, and I¡¯m sure it¡¯s less dangerous to face the Heathens than to play hide and seek with the Rot. The Rot appears to be superior at seek.¡±


    Greg skipped over the letter. It was nearly two pages of Gustave¡¯s sharp tongue berating him for joining the railway, but it ended with the words:  ¡°Be safe, Greg. And come back soon. Grammar lessons are boring without you.¡±


    The next letter started much the same, but then switched to all the high society gossip Greg had missed. In fact, the next three letters were like that, dated always about a month apart: gossip, the results of the horse races they would have gone to together, the plot of a new book that had come out while Greg had been stuck somewhere deep in the forests around Sheaf.


    The fifth one was very short:


    If you are still alive, please let me know.


    I¡¯ll be praying for your answer.


    Be safe.


    Then there had been nothing for a long time, and finally the sixth letter. Greg stared at the date in the corner. Gustave had sent one more after Greg had written to him.


    It was hard to make himself read the letter, and for once, full moon had nothing to do with that. The wolf was quiet. The words meant nothing to the monster in his head, and if it feared rejection, then not one that came in ink.


    ¡°Dear Gregory,¡±  it started.


    ¡°So the worst did happen. Except that it isn¡¯t really the worst, because you¡¯re still alive. And able to write. So I guess you¡¯ll be able to read this, too.


    I really don¡¯t know what to say.


    I guess I¡¯m glad you told me. Took you long enough though. I thought you were dead for a while! Your family kept telling me there was no news, and then they just all up and vanished.


    And then there were the weirdest rumours going around about them. I suppose I should have put it together when I heard that your family stopped hunting. After that fight at the palace.


    Were you there? Did you fight the Inquisitor on the solstice? Or at Oldstone Castle?


    I guess we won¡¯t see each other for a while.


    Unless that rumour is true, that Eoforwic is full of werewolves now? I¡¯m not going to lie, I don¡¯t want to go and check for myself. Keep writing, though?


    Best wishes,


    Gustave¡±


    Greg crumpled the letter with his grip. It was an effort to let go. He knew just as much as before reading this.


    ¡°Bad news?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°No idea.¡± Greg handed the paper over.


    ¡°Huh. Well, that is sort of unhelpful. Especially since you didn¡¯t get around to answer him, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Was sort of hard to find a post office in the Argentum Formation.¡±


    ¡°Lazy,¡± Nathan replied. ¡°But whatever. Let¡¯s just swing by his house, see if he¡¯ll come out or not.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going with them?¡± David interrupted.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t mind,¡± Greg said quickly, because something complicated passed over David¡¯s face.


    His oldest brother smiled ruefully at that. ¡°Change of plans, sorry. Lane needs to check on her own people,¡± he said. ¡°So I guess I¡¯ll throw on a suit and escort her there. We might go to the theatre, too, but it may be more prudent if we don¡¯t meet up until after. I don¡¯t know what sort of busybodies Lane and I might attract.¡±


    ¡°How about Andrew?¡± Greg asked. ¡°Or is he staying to guard Morgulon? ¡±


    ¡°Andrew went up to his room with his own stack of letters,¡± David said. ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask him if he wants to come.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s really okay if I go? Do we have guards on Morgulon?¡±


    ¡°Dad¡¯ll stay to look after Morgulon, get her down into the cellar safely.¡± David smiled reassuringly. ¡°Take the night off, Greg, catch a show. We¡¯ll see about everything else once the moon wanes.¡±

 Chapter 129

    An hour later, their carriage stopped at the deBires¡¯ place. Greg stared out of the window, but didn¡¯t move until Nathan nudged him with the wooden end of his walking spear¡ªmostly, it was the movement of the silver end that made Greg jump. Slowly, he climbed down onto the street and looked up at the house he had visited so many times.


    One of the windows was boarded up and there was no light visible in the others. All the curtains were drawn closed.


    ¡°Mr. Higgins, are you sure they are here?¡± Greg asked, looking over his shoulder. The house didn¡¯t look lived in.


    Nathan just strolled past him and knocked on the door with his spear. At the sound of wood on wood, a group of pigeons took off. Greg almost chased after them, but Nathan grabbed his sleeve.


    ¡°Steady, little brother. Let¡¯s not scare the good folks.¡±


    Greg shook himself, freeing his arm in the same motion. It was a mild spring night, and there were a lot of people out and about, for all this was a residential street.


    The door in front of them creaked open a little, and a servant peaked at them. Not the footman Greg was used to, but an older woman, with a grim face.


    ¡°The lady of the house is not receiving visitors,¡± she informed them sternly.


    ¡°How about Gustave?¡± Nathan asked, unperturbed. ¡°Please let him know that Gregory Feleke is here to see him.¡±


    The woman eyed them up and down. ¡°Wait here,¡± she said, and then closed the door in their faces.


    ¡°Huh,¡± Nathan muttered. ¡°I wonder what happened here.¡±


    Greg didn¡¯t really care. His heart was beating painfully fast. What was he supposed to say if Gustave did¡ªthe door opened again, just an inch wide. Gustave was peering at them. Greg saw him blanch. The door jerked, but didn¡¯t quite close. Then it opened another inch.


    ¡°No way,¡± Gustave hissed. ¡°How¡¯d you get into the city? I thought they test for¡ªand it¡¯s almost full moon, too!¡±


    ¡°You hadn¡¯t heard?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°David is in charge of it all. Duke Desmerais himself gave his permission.¡±


    ¡°To let werewolves into the city?¡±


    ¡°Sixteen of them, yes,¡± Nathan replied. ¡°Okay, five are just babies. But anyway. We¡¯re going to the theatre. Want to come?¡±


    The question surprised Gustave so much he pushed the door open to gape at Nathan. He stared even more when Mr. Higgins leaned out of the coach.


    ¡°Gustave, there you are,¡± the teacher said. ¡°Are you with us? We¡¯re going to catch a play at the Royal, the new one by Dogalla. I assure you it¡¯s quite safe.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Higgins?¡±


    Greg almost smiled at seeing Gustave so gobsmacked. Except that this was his best friend. Too terrified to stop outside and greet him.


    If Greg had come here alone, Gustave would have smashed the door in his face, no doubt about it. But now he wavered, staring at their mismatched group with wide eyes.


    ¡°Hello, Gustave,¡± Greg said softly, wishing he knew what to say. ¡°I won¡¯t bite¡± probably wouldn¡¯t help.


    He hated the way Gustave stared at him, hated the way his friend¡¯s hands clutched the door.


    And no wonder Gustave was scared. They should have done this on new moon. Greg could barely think straight.


    ¡°Hello, Greg,¡± Gustave replied weakly. Then he stared at Mr. Higgins again. At Nathan, armed with silver. Finally at Thoko and Andrew, half hidden behind the teacher in the door, but peering out of the coach, curious.


    ¡°All right,¡± he finally said. ¡°Give me a few minutes, I need to let my mother know.¡±


    The door closed again. The horses in front danced a little, but the driver seemed perfectly calm, even though he must have heard the whole conversation. Greg walked a few steps away, staring up at him.


    ¡°Skittish, that fellow, huh?¡±


    Greg looked away, a bit embarrassed at having been caught staring. Still, he asked: ¡°Why aren¡¯t you scared?¡±


    It sounded snippish, accusatory, even in his own ears, but the driver was unperturbed. ¡°I trust in Lord David. Your brother, if I¡¯m not mistaken. Been driving him for months now. A fine lord. Knows what¡¯s what when it comes to werewolves.¡±


    He rearranged the reins in his hands and bowed down to Greg. ¡°Antonio¡¯s the name.¡±


    ¡°Greg Feleke.¡±


    ¡°I heard. Heard you saved that railway camp at the Savre last month, too.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªwell, I brought the werewolves that did.¡±


    ¡°Killed a Rot queen. Your brother explained about those. Gives a man hope for the war. I wouldn¡¯t want to imagine what the Valoise would do with Loegrion, if it wasn¡¯t for your kind.¡±


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Your kind. There it was. A different kind, not human. That was him today. He was used to looking different, to stand out a bit, even in Deva, and sometimes people would stare at him. But now the difference was more than skin deep. People were scared.


    And he hated it.


    But before he could say anything more, or possibly decide to cancel the whole outing, the door opened again. Gustve stepped outside, a small step, then he paused again to stare at Greg, Mr. Higgins, Nathan. Then another step. The silence was heavy. Greg had no idea what to say, and Gustave obviously felt the same.


    Nathan never worried about such things. ¡°Well, hurry up. All aboard, please. It would be a tragedy if we missed the show, I¡¯m sure. Of course, we could just go to the pub straight away.¡±


    ¡°No, Nathan,¡± Andrew sighed. Greg heard the smile in his voice, but didn¡¯t look at his brother¡¯s face. He was watching Gustave as he climbed into the coach. Nathan followed, and Greg was last, squeezing in between Thoko and the wall. The wolf growled at the tight fit. Greg pushed it back, managed a smile.


    Gustave was still staring at him. ¡°How long have you been in the city?¡±


    ¡°We just arrived today,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°I see. Will we be meeting the other werewolves you mentioned?¡± Gustave didn¡¯t quite manage to sound as if there was just idle curiosity behind the question.


    ¡°They¡¯re at Windish,¡± Andrew explained. ¡°To guard Desmarais¡¯s daughert until the child is born.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re here to do, what, exactly? I thought you were supposed to guard the coast and the railway?¡±


    ¡°The line to Mannin is nearly done, and they have all the werewolves they need. There are not enough men left to work on the other lines, so David wanted us here in case there¡¯s an emergency somewhere.¡±


    ¡°But he didn¡¯t send you to Windish.¡±


    ¡°Why would he?¡± Nathan asked before Greg could. ¡°Greg came home with us. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Gustave visibly mulled that over. He didn¡¯t ask about danger, or if it was safe to have Greg around. Nor did he point out the nepotism of the situation. Mr. Higgins directed the conversation back to the evening¡¯s planned entertainment.


    Soon, Andrew went to get tickets. When they took their seats, Greg leaned back in his, staring up at the curtain that was still closed. All around him, people were looking in a different direction, up at the private booth where Lane and David were just taking their places.


    ¡°Such a handsome lord,¡± a voice whispered in the row behind.


    ¡°Of course he is, how else do you think a baron¡¯s son caught a countess¡¯s fancy?¡±


    ¡°So romantic.¡±


    Other people were less taken. ¡°I hear they¡¯ve been travelling together for months hunting werewolves. Sharing a tent!¡±


    Greg grinned wider. He didn¡¯t turn to look up or at the people whispering. But he was grateful. Glad to be back. Glad to feel the soft, slightly worn velvet of the seats and glad that nobody looked twice at him. Except for Gustave, two seats over, who was clearly still wary of him and kept glancing over.


    ¡°Who would have thought that David of all people would ever catch the attention of the masses,¡± Nathan muttered.


    Greg nodded, but he thought that probably added to the allure. Because David was an outsider in a way that Greg or Andrew or their parents hadn¡¯t been. David had chosen the wilderness over High Society, had stopped appearing at court or balls or the horse races where Loegrion¡¯s rich, powerful and beautiful gathered when he had been nineteen. He had been gone for a full decade, cavorting with werewolves, the Rot and sun only knew what sort of other monsters, only to reappear at a debutantes ball and win the favour of one of the more noticeable bachelorettes in the country. Most recently, he had nearly killed one of the better-liked counts in a duel. Had a new scar to show for it, too.


    Mr. Higgins was unimpressed. ¡°One can only marvel at the priorities of our citizenship.¡±


    ¡°Ah, come on. It¡¯s fun. You have to admit, David and Lane, that¡¯s a good story.¡± Nathan crunched on some salted nuts and offered Greg the bag. ¡°Everybody needs a night off. Can¡¯t talk about war and politics all the time.¡±


    ¡°Or werewolves,¡± Thoko said softly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mind the invasion into your brother¡¯s private life?¡± Mr. Higgins asked.


    Nathan shrugged. ¡°Why? David and Lane made the choice to announce their courtship publicly. They didn¡¯t have to do it at the Flower Dance.¡±


    ¡°They sort of did have to,¡± Andrew pointed out. In the hubbub all around, Greg had to strain to hear him. ¡°It would have been an even bigger scandal if they had tried to keep it quiet.¡±


    Greg frowned. Wasn¡¯t the whole courtship just for show, anyway?


    But Mr. Higgins and Gustave nodded in agreement, and Greg realised that his brothers were just continuing the ruse. Andrew and Nathan argued quietly, until the lights dimmed. The monster in his head growled eagerly, but Greg pushed it back. He could still feel Gustave¡¯s gaze on himself when the first actor stepped on stage, but as the play unfolded, he forgot about that.


    It was a great story, for all that Mr. Higgins opined it pandered too much to Dukes Desmarais and Stuart. It followed the journey of a chivalrous Loegrian knight with a beautiful princess at his side, who set out to defeat a terrible dragon with the aid of a wild and reclusive ¡°forest people.¡± Greg wondered if Mr. Higgins hadn¡¯t missed something rather obvious¡ªsure, the knight was said to be from Mannin, and his shield showed a white castle, like the home of Duke Desmarais. But the story itself? It might just as well be David and Lane.


    He kept his mouth shut while they filed out of the big hall after standing ovations. It was hard enough not to take a bite from the idiots in front of him, who stopped to have a conversation in the middle of the overfull hallway. There was silver all around, making his skin crawl. The wolf was equally excited at and offended by the hapless sheep crowding him from all sides. His teeth itched and one pressed into his lips. It was hard to force it back into its human shape.


    Greg did curse at Nathan for dragging them into the first pub across from the theatre.


    ¡°Should have walked further,¡± Andrew agreed.


    ¡°Just follow me,¡± Nathan replied, already pushing forwards through the bar, using his walking spear liberally to make room for himself. People took one look at the crossbow at his back and the spear and hurried to give him all the space he demanded. Even a table.


    ¡°See, no problem. Have a seat!¡±


    Andrew sighed and both Gustave and Mr. Higgins looked uneasy. So Greg sat down. Having the wall behind his back made the voices all around easier to bear. The appearance of food calmed the monster further. Greg just listened in while Thoko, Andrew, and Mr. Higgins discussed the play. Nathan was sulking because Andrew had put his foot down and forbidden him from challenging the other patrons in Greg¡¯s name to a drinking contest. Greg silently agreed that it probably wasn''t a good idea to draw that kind of attention. Not here in Deva, not yet.


    Gustave watched him still, weary. Maybe he thought it would be rude to comment on the rum Greg was putting away.


    ¡°Werewolf healing,¡± Greg explained when Nathan pushed a fresh glass in his direction.


    Gustave nodded slowly. ¡°You¡¯ve changed,¡± he said. ¡°But I suppose we all have. I think I¡¯d like to see it if you ever do have that drinking contest.¡±

 Chapter 130

    Full moon sucked, but that wasn¡¯t anything new. The three large boxes in the cellar, hardwood reinforced with steel, were. One was currently filled with crates of apples, and Morgulon hunkered down in the other. The last one was for Greg. It even had some blankets, and a pillow to sit on, though both were unlikely to survive the night. For once it was Imani who locked the door on him and accepted his clothes through a hatch. David was at Windish, to look after the werewolves there.


    Greg slept through most of the day after. He woke up in time for dinner and watched as Morgulon awkwardly climbed the steep steps into the cellar again. He should have gone out, should have found some entertainment: when Morgulon howled at the moonrise, he almost lost his shape, too. The cubs wailed and fell all over each other. Imani sat with them, wearing riding gloves and sturdy clothes. In a few months, the little ones would have to be locked up, too.


    Not tonight, though. Tonight, Greg played tug-of-war with them, holding pieces of rawhide for them to pull on. He toppled them over gently, and watched them struggle to their feet again and again. They pushed at his hands if he stopped, begging to play more.


    Oh, they bit him, even drew blood if he wasn¡¯t careful. They chewed on Imani¡¯s gloves, too. Thoko had to keep her hands out of reach while two of them attacked her boots.


    But it didn¡¯t look like the mindless rage Greg had seen from older werewolves. Perhaps they were too young.


    ¡°They are different from yesterday,¡± Imani said, when he pointed it out. ¡°Yesterday, well, we kept them in wooden crates. They didn¡¯t play, just tore everything they could reach apart."


    ¡°Weird,¡± Greg muttered.


    He probably should inform Prof. Audenne, but he didn¡¯t want the researcher all over his family. The scrutiny wasn¡¯t exactly comfortable.


    Still, there was much to learn. Morgulon was, as usually, less than forthcoming.


    Full moon is different, was all she said when he asked her after lunch the next day.


    ¡°You don¡¯t say.¡±


    In all honesty, he was a little bit bored. He had slept in late, eaten lunch, tried to talk to Morgulon... In a few short hours, the sun would set, but until then¡ªwhat was he supposed to do with himself?


    ¡°Well, what did you use to do?¡± Thoko asked back, when he tried to explain the feeling.


    Greg looked at her blankly. He probably would have read a book? Studied? But it was hard to concentrate with full moon barely over. The same went for chess or other games he might have played. Thoko would wipe the board with him if he tried that, and it was no fun when he could feel how badly he was playing. Nathan had gone for a ride, Bram and Andrew had gone to the palace, and Imani was visiting with some other lady. Thoko was halfway through getting her hair done: Yamikani had started the work yesterday, framing Thoko¡¯s face with strands of colourful silk, weaved into the finest braids Greg had ever seen.


    ¡°You could take a walk,¡± Thoko suggested when he didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Or play with the cubs.¡±


    But he was too restless for that. ¡°I think¡ªyeah, I think I might go for a walk.¡±


    He might have taken Dolly outside of the city, except he wasn¡¯t sure how he¡¯d get back in without anyone to vouch for him. He really wanted to talk to David and find out what was going to happen next to him and the pack.


    Tonight. He¡¯d ask him tonight.


    For now he just walked. People on the street greeted him, and that was nice. They didn¡¯t recognize him or possibly confused him for one of his brothers. Who expected a werewolf in the middle of Deva? Nobody.


    Greg didn¡¯t think about where his feet were carrying him until he stood in front of the deBire¡¯s estate. It probably shouldn¡¯t surprise him¡ªit was a route he had walked often and it wasn¡¯t far. Here he was, though.


    Should he knock? Just walk on? Would Gustave even be home? Surely, he was continuing his education somewhere? But now he was here, and they hadn¡¯t really talked two nights ago. Not about what had happened. To both of them. He might as well knock.


    The door was opened by the same somewhat grouchy servant they had met two nights ago. She glared at him but went to get Gustave. He poked his head out of the door a minute later. They stared at each other until Greg sighed.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be afraid of me.¡±


    Gustave¡¯s whole face wrinkled in annoyance. ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of you.¡±


    ¡°Really.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid of the thought of going for a walk with a werewolf. There¡¯s a difference.¡±


    Gustave¡¯s tone was rather acerbic on the last word. He straightened, and Greg was sure he saw him shudder.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the principle of the thing,¡± Gustave added, somewhat calmer. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s go, before I change my mind. Say, have you ever bitten anyone?¡±


    ¡°Would you even believe me if I said no?¡±


    His friend hesitated and stared at Greg, who tried to look guileless. But then Gustave shrugged, muttering to himself as he stepped outside: ¡°I guess. All right. Let¡¯s do this.¡±


    He shuddered again and didn¡¯t move until Greg took a step back. He didn¡¯t turn his back on him while closing the door, either, but then they were finally walking.


    ¡°So, uh, how was full moon?¡±


    Greg laughed despite the awkwardness of it all. ¡°Full moon sucks. Seriously. Can¡¯t really concentrate on anything. It¡¯s like¡ªimagine you haven¡¯t eaten all day. And you¡¯ve had way too much coffee. And you¡¯re angry for no reason. And it hurts. Changing shape, I mean. Fenn compared it to having your fingernails pulled out, only all over.¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°And you can¡¯t stop it?¡±


    ¡°Not on full moon, no.¡±


    ¡°But I heard some werewolves were able to turn into wolves on new moon?¡±


    ¡°Not me. Not for, oh, another ten years. And then I¡¯ll still need help.¡±


    Wait, was he even allowed to say that?


    Too late now. And he wanted Gustave to understand.


    ¡°So let me get this straight: because we kept killing them, the werewolves living in Loegrion never got old enough to deal with the Rot. So your brother sent you into the mountains¡ªtwice¡ªto find older werewolves who can.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Your brother. Who¡¯s famous for being the one who actually does the killing of all those werewolves.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And you really found people? Werewolves, I mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, David stopped hunting. The rest of my family, too. I think it helps, even. That they used to be hunters. It¡¯s like¡ªI¡¯m the living proof that they stopped. And that means it¡¯s not just academic¡ªnot some mad idea the duke cooked up. It¡¯s got support, even amongst professional hunters.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Gustave stretched the word. ¡°And what happens next? You guys helped build the railway, okay. But most of the country still isn¡¯t really safe from the Rot, right? So what are you doing here, rather than, at the rivers¡¯ wells?¡±


    ¡°David decides what happens next,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s a war coming, and people keep trying to kill us, so I think he wants us someplace close and safe.


    How about you? Mr. Higgins said you left the city for a while?¡±


    Gustave grimaced. ¡°My father and grandparents dragged the whole household south before d¡¯Evier even fled the city. Soon as word got around about what happened to Bishop Boyen at Eoforwic. Kept talking about how everyone who didn¡¯t take a stand was doomed to hell by association. When mother and I still made plans to go back, they put guards on us, threatened us. Said we¡¯d be homeless paupers, living on the streets. I told mother I¡¯d find a job and we pretended to change our minds, so father would stop watching our every move. One day we just ran for it.¡±


    ¡°But you still have the house.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Gustave buried his hands in his pockets. ¡°We got back here just in time, basically. There¡¯s a new law that disowns all the loyalists. Rumour has it all that land will go to the crown of Loegrion, once Duke George Louis resurrects it. Mother petitioned the palace to get the house and our holdings back. Well, we got the house. Everything else stays under royal stewardship ¡®until we prove our loyalty.¡¯¡±


    He glanced at Greg from the side. ¡°Say, think your brother could speak to the duke for us?¡±


    ¡°Maybe? No wait, have your mother write to mine. She¡¯s in contact with the viceroy¡¯s wife, I think it¡¯ll be more effective that way. David¡ªdoesn¡¯t really do politics.¡±


    Gustave¡¯s eyebrow climbed almost all the way to his hairline. ¡°Hell of a job he got himself into for someone who doesn¡¯t do politics.¡±


    ¡°Honestly? I think he hates it. He just can¡¯t get out of it right now.¡±


    They lengthened their strides as they reached the main road, waving mostly in silence through the dense traffic, towards the inner city.


    ¡°That girl who was with you at the theatre,¡± Gustave asked suddenly. ¡°Who is she?¡±


    ¡°Thoko? I told you, she worked at the railway with me. She¡¯s a friend.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re friends with a witch now?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, what?¡± Greg laughed. ¡°No! There never was a witch on the railway. We only said that so people wouldn¡¯t suspect a werewolf.¡±


    ¡°Really. What about that newspaper article about her? After your family got attacked?¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on. I don¡¯t like the Valoise either, but one against seven? Or was that all made up?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that.¡± Greg scratched the back of his head. ¡°It was mostly true, I guess. Except, you know, we left out that Morgulon killed four of them.¡±


    Gustave chewed that over. ¡°So that girl¡ª¡±


    ¡°Thoko.¡±


    ¡°Fine, Thoko. You¡¯re saying she killed three men. Armed killers. With her bare hands? And no magic at all?¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t use her bare hands, she had an axe.¡±


    ¡°One girl with an axe against three men with pistols and rapiers, of course. That¡¯s so much more believable.¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes. ¡°One girl who¡¯s worked on the railway felling trees with, yes, an axe for almost two years.¡±


    Gustave stopped. ¡°You don¡¯t think that¡¯s weird? Weirdly lucky, I mean?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s weird,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t turn into a giant wolf once a month because the laws of physics like me so much, Gustave, and I can¡¯t suddenly down a full pint of brandy in one go because I have such a great personal pharmacist. So yeah, there was magic involved, okay? A lot of magic. It just wasn¡¯t Thoko¡¯s magic. She¡¯s not a witch. Trust me, I¡¯d know.¡±


    ¡°She got into your bed?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Greg let the wolf¡¯s growl colour his own voice.


    Gustave ducked his head. ¡°Well, when you say it like that, you sound like you know her, you know, intimately.¡±


    ¡°I do know her really well. And I can sense magic, too.¡±


    He started walking again, hoping that the matter was closed with that.


    ¡°So you could like, sense a seduction?¡±


    ¡°Oh, for flame¡¯s sake, Gustave.¡± Greg threw up his hands. ¡°Seriously? Yes, I could! And it wouldn¡¯t work, in any case!¡±


    He was pretty sure, at least.


    Gustave closed up to him. ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    Greg buried his hands in his jacket pockets to stop himself from decking Gustave. ¡°It¡¯s harder to make magic stick on us, is all,¡± he grumbled, voice lowered. ¡°Healing too, for example. And that¡¯s pretty much why the Rot doesn¡¯t get us. Two Rot-queens together weren¡¯t strong enough to ensnare Morgulon, a human magician would never stand a chance of fooling her. She¡¯d let me know if anyone would try.¡±


    Gustave trailed after him in silence for a block.


    ¡°Maybe you should¡¯ve mentioned that somewhere,¡± he finally said. ¡°Lots of people remembered the rumours about unsanctioned magic when they saw those articles.¡±


    ¡°Like who?¡±


    Gustave waved his hands. ¡°No one you¡¯d know. Other students from the club. Dining club, from Deva University,¡± he clarified.


    ¡°So you did enroll.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, sure. Soon as we came back.¡± Gustave paused, and glanced over, as if he sensed how jealous Greg was about that. ¡°Hey, want to meet them? Our club meets just on the other side of the river. Think you can get us across safely?¡±


    Greg paused. ¡°Safe from what?¡±


    ¡°The Rot, genius.¡±


    ¡°Why would that even be an issue?¡±


    Gustave looked at him as if he had lost his mind. ¡°Because I¡¯m not a werewolf? What, you don¡¯t even know¡­ But the river was going bad before you left, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I thought it got better? That¡¯s why David sent Fenn after all.¡±


    ¡°Nah. I mean, the werewolf stopped it from getting worse. But it didn¡¯t go back to how it was before. Mother¡¯s going to throw a fit if she hears I cross over so late, but you can keep us safe, right?¡± He grimaced, and admitted: ¡°Can¡¯t really afford decent protection right now.¡±


    Greg hadn¡¯t even realised how low the sun stood above the roofs all around. How bad could it be, with Morgulon here in the city, and Pierre just a few miles outside?


    ¡°Yeah, sure, I can get us over the river.¡±

 Chapter 131

    In the the Inner City, even between the steam that rose from the piles of horse droppings on the road and the acrid smoke that rose from Deva¡¯s first motorised tramway, a fouler stench lingered. As they walked down the slope towards the White Torrent, a gust of wind carried it up from the river and Greg slowed his steps, trying to focus on the spoiled magic. He didn¡¯t sense any though¡ªnot Morgulon, just a mile or two away, nor did he have the headache that preceded the Rot. He thought there was the slightest pull towards the east, where Pierre and the others were, but that might have been just because he knew they were that way and expected the draw.


    He lengthened his strides to catch up with Gustave, who was busy telling him about the club he had joined at university and didn¡¯t comment on the foul odour riding on the breeze. Maybe it had just been a backed up sewer.


    Was something wrong with Fenn? But Morgulon was fine, there was no way the Rot would attack the city.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for what I said about your friend,¡± Gustave interrupted his own story.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Greg blinked slowly, then shrugged. ¡°I guess we should have expected people would think something like this.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re quiet, though.¡±


    ¡°I thought about the river,¡± Greg explained. ¡°I didn¡¯t think we¡¯d be able to smell it all over the city. I hope¡ª¡°


    He was being stupid, wasn¡¯t he? Deva used to stink before the Rot, all the time. Especially if the wind came from the wrong direction. In a city of this size, it was pretty much unavoidable.


    Foolish or not, he clearly wasn¡¯t the only one who thought of the Rot first. They rounded a corner, and the Torrent came into view, and one of the larger bridges. On four lanes, carts and carriages were crossing freely in both directions, but there were guards watching the waters even during the day and wooden barricades stood ready.


    ¡°Do they close the bridges at night?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Not every night. Only if things get bad.¡± Gustave slowed. ¡°Maybe tonight. It does smell bad, doesn¡¯t it? What do you think? Maybe we should go back?¡±


    Greg shook his head and gently grabbed his shoulder to push Gustave onwards, pretending that he didn¡¯t notice how his friend flinched at the touch. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Really. There¡¯s nothing short of a Rot-queen that¡¯ll dare climb out of the water with Morgulon in the city.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s back at your family¡¯s place though, isn¡¯t she? Is she really that powerful? There¡¯s a lot of river going through Deva.¡±


    Greg just grinned.


    Gustave mulled that over as they walked down to the river. ¡°If she¡¯s that powerful, why isn¡¯t she at the front, fighting the Valoise for us?¡±


    ¡°Different sort of fighting,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°She can¡¯t do much against an army. The Rot on the other hand is mostly magic, and that she can fight.¡±


    Despite the reassurance, Gustave still hesitated at the foot of the bridge, clearly uncomfortable with crossing the street. He tried to keep as much distance from the balustrade as possible¡ªjust as all the other pedestrians. Greg didn¡¯t fear the balustrade or the water underneath, but the long pikes with the silver tips and the helmets that the city guards wore made him uncomfortable, too.


    After the second time they had to stop because the person coming the other direction was refusing to make way, he grabbed Gustave by the sleeve and pulled him right up to the railing.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he grumbled. ¡°We haven¡¯t got all evening.¡±


    ¡°We do,¡± Gustave mumbled, but didn¡¯t resist when Greg towed him along. They still had to avoid the guards, who grunted at them, but then they were across, and could make their way up the hill towards the university.


    Wistfully, Greg stared up to the distinctive clock tower of the grand old building as they walked past. Would Smith¡¯s words ever come true? Would a werewolf ever be able to attend lectures here? And if so, would he ever be free to do so?


    Gustave didn¡¯t give him any time to wallow in self-pity, leading the way around the library and then away again from the university, into a side street lined with pubs and clubs on both sides. Groups of students were clogging up the alley. The stink of the sewer didn¡¯t reach here, instead it smelled of beer and tobacco smoke, and even though the sun was just setting, lines of drunken singing waved through the air. Shouts echoed around the corner, and Greg thought he heard the clash of steel on steel.


    This was where Greg would have been spending his nights with Gustave if it hadn¡¯t been for¡ªwell, everything. He could see himself sitting in front of a pub with Smith, or a group of engineering students, heckling the law students across the street¡­


    But he was just a guest here. An outsider.


    Gustave led the way to ¡°his¡± club, situated on the ground level of a narrow, ancient building. They had to climb down two steps to duck through the slightly crooked front door, and Greg almost hit his head on the low beams of the ceiling. The room was filled with cigar and pipe smoke so thick that it almost drowned out the alcohol fumes. The air was hot and stuffy, yet the amount of silver in the room sent goosebumps down Greg¡¯s arms.


    The tab room felt cramped, and not just because of the low ceiling: To one side was the bar, the rest of the room was filled with one long table that formed a U. In order for the servers to get around the room, it had to be so narrow that there was only one bench in the middle. It did feel quite cosy, giving the impression that everyone was sitting together, even in a group of what looked to be about twenty people.


    A shout went up when the other guests noticed Gustave, a loud cheer that turned into a jeer. Gustave dragged Greg with himself past all the people who wanted to clap him on the shoulder¡ªor possibly pour a pint of beer down his back, it was hard to tell with some of them.


    ¡°Made it across the river after all, have you?¡± they japed. ¡°Mummy let you go? And who¡¯s this?¡±


    The last question was repeated over and over, until Gustave stopped at the head of the table, in front of an older man. The stranger rose to give Gustave a hug, and then clapped his hands before he repeated: ¡°And who¡¯s our guest?¡±


    ¡°This is the Honourable Gregory Feleke, Dr. Mardis.¡±


    ¡°Of the Feleke Four? You¡¯ve been holding out on us, Gustave! You never mentioned you had such august friends!¡±


    Dr. Mardis thrust out a hand in Greg¡¯s direction. ¡°Which one are you? The Hero of Oldstone Castle, the crazy bastard who went after a Rot queen, or the werewolf?¡±


    He laughed as if that was an excellent joke, and before Greg could answer, he went on: ¡°Mardis is the name, Doctor Iuris Utriusque, it¡¯s an honour either way!¡±


    Greg never got a chance to say anything in response. More people¡ªmost of them only a little older than him¡ªcrowded in to shake his hand or slap Gustave on the back and complain that he hadn¡¯t been hanging out with them before. Everybody knew the name Feleke, and everyone just assumed that he had to be the fourth brother, the ¡°boring one¡± whom nobody had heard much about yet.


    Andrew wouldn¡¯t mind that, probably, to be known as the Boring One. Greg hoped his brother wouldn¡¯t mind the impersonation, either.


    He was given the place of honour right next to Dr. Mardis, Gustave on his other side. Drinks appeared in front of them before Greg could even order. Everybody demanded to hear stories from the ¡°forest front,¡± and the students laughed at the idea that he could be a werewolf. Everyone knew, after all, that werewolves were strange folks, not really human, even if they looked that way.


    For the first time, it bothered him. He felt like a liar, a fraud, even as he told his rapt audience nothing but the truth. Just not the whole truth. And the bit that was missing¡ªwell, that was important, wasn''t it? He was a werewolf. There was no denying that, no point in running away from it. More importantly, that fact had shaped¡ªhad changed¡ªwho he was.


    Should he tell them? Was it worth the risk? These were strangers, after all, people he was unlikely to meet again in the future. He couldn¡¯t even remember their names.


    So he told them stories of the navvies, of the sacrifices the crews had made, the cost of building the railway, until the stink of the sewers washed into the pub through the open door. Some students sneezed, and silence fell once the fits passed.


    Dr. Mardis pushed out of his chair. ¡°Smells like a bad night. We better walk with you, see if the bridge is still open.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope so,¡± Gustave sighed. ¡°Mother will kill me if I don¡¯t come home.¡±


    Greg grinned, and was surprised when the round of sniggers he had expected didn¡¯t come. Instead, the students filed out quickly, pressing their silver-adorned caps down onto their heads.


    Maybe he shouldn¡¯t have told so many stories of things going wrong. There was no danger at all tonight. Just a bad odour.


    Hopefully, the guards manning the bridge would know the difference.


    The street outside was packed with young men and a handful of women who all hurried to get home. They were sobering up quickly in the cold, stinking night air, still many of them could barely walk straight. There was a lot of yelling and pushing and almost no getting forwards.


    ¡°This is madness,¡± Greg complained. He pressed with his back against the wall to get out of the way of what looked like a whole wrestling team. Broad-shouldered as they were, the guys were pushing through the crowd away from the river.


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    Greg reached out for Gustave, who looked almost ready to cry. ¡°There¡¯s no Rot,¡± he yelled over the noise. ¡°It just smells bad!¡±


    He didn¡¯t catch Gustave¡¯s answer.


    At a glacial pace, they were pushed out of the alley. On the main street, it was easier to move, and once they made it past the university, the road cleared considerably. The group rounded the complex. They should have been able to see the White Torrent from here. All they saw, however, was the bank of fog that covered the valley.


    The students stopped. ¡°No way I¡¯m walking into that,¡± one of them muttered.


    ¡°You ever seen something like that, Greg?¡± Gustave asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s fog. Of course I¡¯ve seen fog before. Especially at Deva.¡±


    Behind him, somebody giggled nervously.


    Gustave didn¡¯t move. ¡°You said there¡¯s no danger.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fog,¡± Greg repeated. ¡°It¡¯s not dangerous. It just smells bad.¡±


    ¡°How can you tell the difference?¡± Dr. Mardis grunted.


    Greg looked over his shoulder at the older man. Seriously? He had just spent three hours telling them stories from building the railway.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never seen Rot-fog, or you could tell at a glance, too.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve had plenty of fog in the last year here in the city.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure. There¡¯s fog all the time around the White Torrent. Sometimes it smells bad. That¡¯s just weather, though. Sometimes it stinks to high hell, that doesn¡¯t make it dangerous; it used to do that five years ago, too. If that cloud was caused by the Rot, it wouldn¡¯t be white, for one. We¡¯d barely be able to see it in the dark. More importantly, if there was a Rot-creature around, one powerful enough to cause a fog bank that large, half of you would be puking your guts out right now. Trust me, it¡¯s not an easy thing to miss.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯d stake your life on that?¡± Mardis asked.


    ¡°My life, too,¡± Gustave added, quietly.


    Greg rolled his eyes. ¡°Yes.¡±


    He took a couple of steps down the hill, and when none of them moved, he added: ¡°I¡¯d be willing to stake my daughters¡¯ lives on it, too.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Gustave snapped, and stumbled after him. ¡°Your what now?¡±


    Greg smiled inwardly, ignoring the question. ¡°I¡¯m going home now, if you want to come, Gustave. If you want to explain to your mother tomorrow where you were...¡±


    He walked on, smiling grimly.


    ¡°Crazy, the whole family.¡±


    ¡°Course they are, got to be crazy to hunt werewolves.¡±


    ¡°Countess deLande will be in good company, then.¡±


    A pattering of footsteps interrupted the raillery.


    ¡°Gustave, don¡¯t...¡±


    Greg grinned wider when his friend caught up with him, holding onto his hat with one hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re really certain?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m really certain.¡±


    ¡°Why does it smell so bad, then?¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°Do you remember the big stink from three years ago, when the eastern main sewer clogged up?¡±


    Gustave slowed down as they neared the fog again, so Greg reached out to pull him along. It did smell bad, even worse than outside. Like spoiled milk, compost, and carrion. Gustave groaned and tried to cover his nose with his scarf.


    ¡°Are you really sure this is just normal fog? Because I am feeling a little sick.¡±


    Greg sighed. ¡°If this was the Rot, I¡¯d be struggling to keep my human shape right now,¡± he replied. ¡°And since I¡¯m not, yes, I¡¯m really sure it¡¯s just a bad smell.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Okay. Have you ever, uh, transformed when you didn¡¯t want to?¡±


    ¡°An elder werewolf could force me,¡± Greg explained. ¡°It¡¯s nothing you need to worry about, though. I might look different, but unless it¡¯s full moon night, I¡¯m still me.¡±


    He wondered how far their voices carried in the night. Gustave had an endless stock of questions, and he tried to answer him as best as he could. There was nobody else on the street, as far as he could see or hear.


    Were people really this scared of a cloud and some bad smell? He¡¯d have expected more from the citizenry of Deva. If David was right, the people of Mannin would be celebrating the night away right now.


    At the river, the barricades were up, blocking the road across. The guards with their silver helmets had abandoned the bridge and stood on solid ground behind the barriers, silver-tipped pikes in hand, as if they expected a horde of brutes to charge out of the waters at any moment.


    ¡°Well, crap,¡± Gustave muttered. ¡°Now what?¡±


    Greg didn¡¯t slow down. He tried to project confidence as he approached the small army guarding the perfectly harmless White Torrent. Gustave followed right behind him, still looking nervous. At least he didn¡¯t ask again if Greg was certain that there was no danger.


    They made it nearly up to the barriers before they were noticed. Two guards crossed their pikes to barr their way. ¡°Step back, citizens!¡± they yelled.


    ¡°I need to get across the river.¡±


    ¡°Are you mad, Sir? Didn¡¯t you notice the fog?¡±


    ¡°My name is Gregory Feleke. I am not scared of the weather, and my comrade and I really need to cross.¡±


    Two more guards came over, one of them holding a guttering torch, the other one with a sergeant¡¯s stripes on his uniform.


    ¡°I have to ask you to step away from the barricades, Sirs¡± the sergeant said. ¡°I have my orders.¡±


    Greg didn¡¯t budge. ¡°And I have mine. My brother wants me. Gregory Feleke,¡± he repeated.


    The sergeant narrowed his eyes at him. ¡°Follow me,¡± he ordered. ¡°We¡¯ll see what his Lordship says.¡±


    Greg sighed, but he trusted David to cover for him, so he went without resistance. There was a small watch house at the foot of the bridge. He hoped it had its own telegraph connection¡ªif they sent a messenger for David, it would take forever to get an answer. Imani wouldn¡¯t appreciate being woken that late, either.


    The watch-house was cramped, and filled with the sharp smell of silver-polish. An ancient tea-urn stood on a small burner at the wall, right next to a telegraph, manned by an older guard. Another wall was lined with lockers, the rest of the space was taken up by a table and seats for the guards to take their break.


    ¡°Any news from the palace?¡± the sergeant asked as soon as they all were inside.


    ¡°No, sarge, no news.¡±


    ¡°All right. In that case, send a message to the other guardhouses: tell them to inform his lordship, should he stop by, that his brother is here and wants to cross the river. Make sure you include which bridge the message is coming from this time.¡±


    ¡°Aye aye, sarge.¡±


    David wasn¡¯t home? He¡¯d just gotten back from Windish; they hadn¡¯t really dragged him out here for a bit of fog, had they?


    But of course they had.


    Greg and Gustave had barely had time to sit down when the telegraph began to move and a reply came: David was on his way.


    Someone really needed to learn to delegate.


    The news that David was on his way caused a flurry of activity amongst the guard troop. Boots were shined and helmets given a quick buff. A corporal inspected the results. It seemed like overkill to Greg, but at least the guards forgot their terror of the fog for a moment.


    When the clattering of iron-shod hooves on cobblestones became audible in the quiet night, the corporal had the men line up, leaving only a couple on each side of the bridge to watch the waters, while the sergeant stood ready to greet David. Greg wandered over to meet his brother, feeling out of place as the sergeant stood to attention.


    Watching his brother take the report in front of the small formation was weird. All the more so because David looked comfortable as the sergeant presented himself formally. Weary, yes, but unruffled at the military protocol. He even answered the snappy salute with one of his own, before nodding at Greg.


    ¡°Can I count on you tonight?¡±


    Of course David hadn¡¯t just come down here to pick him up and take him home. ¡°I¡¯m tired,¡± Greg wanted to say, but swallowed the words. David clearly was tired, too.


    ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± he said instead.


    David smiled briefly, then turned to face the line of guards standing to attention. ¡°At ease,¡± he ordered.


    It was just like after the fight against the Rot-queens, but seeing David in his new role as military commander was still odd. So unlike the David he used to know. Even his clothes were different: none of the grime from the forest in sight, or the comfortable vests David used to wear. Today¡¯s riding coat was a clear reference to the uniform, his boots shined. His posture was military straight, too.


    Not that David had ever been a slouch, but he used to hate speaking in front of groups. There was no hint of that now.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s a rough and smelly night. And I know there have been concerns raised about the distance to Windish. On the other hand, I also understand that not everyone here is comfortable with letting werewolves enter our fine city, no matter how dire the situation may be.¡±


    Greg did his best not to fidget. The soldiers were staring straight ahead, but it still felt like they were all looking directly at him. The sheer amount of silver all around wasn¡¯t helping to calm his nerves.


    ¡°I understand those concerns,¡± David went on. ¡°Deva¡¯s city guard has done a fine job keeping the citizens safe from rabid werewolves for centuries. You have heard the stories of the veterans, have perhaps lived through attacks yourself. Few of you will ever have encountered a rational, helpful werewolf. So I would like you to meet my brother, one of the werewolves protecting the city tonight.¡±


    Greg didn¡¯t quite manage a smile when he raised his hands in an awkward greeting. Maybe he should have saluted, too, but he probably would have messed that up.


    ¡°Greg has been a werewolf for a couple of years now, first working with the railway, then searching the Argentum Formation for others. Recently, he fought in the battle against the Rot-queen at the Savre camp.¡±


    The soldiers did stare at him now, most of all the sergeant. Not in a good way, either. Many of them shifted their grip on their pikes. If David hadn¡¯t been standing right there, Greg would have gotten ready to run.


    ¡°He will now be stationed here in Deva,¡± David went on, as if he hadn¡¯t noticed. ¡°One of two werewolves residing in the city. You will likely run into him from time to time. I trust there will be no problems arising.¡±


    He turned back to the sergeant. ¡°Carry on,¡± he ordered, as if nothing much had happened just now.


    ¡°My Lord,¡± the man replied with a salute, quite clearly in a state of mild shock. David walked off before he could gather his wits, and Greg hurried after him. Gustave, too.


    David collected his horse and approached the barricades to cross the bridge as if there was no way in the world the guards would try to stop them. Greg desperately tried to project the same kind of confidence, but was certain he failed.


    ¡°I bet they¡¯re really, really glad to see us go,¡± Gustave muttered, when the barrier was opened promptly for them.


    Greg hushed him. A shudder ran down his spine, and he wasn¡¯t sure if that was the stares or all the silver. He didn¡¯t want to look over his shoulder to see if they were staring.


    ¡°You up for doing that again?¡± David asked. ¡°It¡¯s time to get them used to the thought.¡±


    ¡°You should probably get them used to someone like Morgulon right away,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°But all right. Let¡¯s do it.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need me for this, do you?¡± Gustave asked. ¡°Cause, as interesting as that was, I¡¯d prefer to get home tonight.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re free to go home at any point,¡± David replied. ¡°Both of you. We won¡¯t be able to cover all of the postings tonight anyway. It just seemed like a good opportunity, since we¡¯re both here.¡±


    ¡°What were you doing out here, tonight?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°People are scared,¡± David shrugged. ¡°We both know that the smell and the fog aren¡¯t connected to the Rot, but I¡¯m supposed to reassure the men.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ll stay up all night? Again?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go along the river, yes. I certainly won''t say no if you want to come.¡±


    Greg looked at Gustave, who was clearly eager to get home, then at David''d tired face. ¡°Sure, I''m in.¡±

 Chapter 132

    Thank goodness the weather didn¡¯t last and the fog dissipated as soon as the sun rose. By the time David climbed into Antonio¡¯s carriage, stifling a yawn, the smell had mostly vanished, too. It was a little later than he would have usually gotten to work, but he thought he had earned it. Greg was still asleep after patrolling both shores of the inner city until the morning hours.


    David thought it had helped to have the river guards meet Greg, even if they''d have to do it again some night when he could safely transform.


    But merciful sun, he was tired. His legs were heavy, his hands stiff, and his head felt as if the fog hadn¡¯t dissipated in the sun but instead wormed into his brain. A few years ago, David wouldn¡¯t have batted an eye on pulling an all-nighter and then getting up after three hours of sleep for another day. He could still do it, but he hated the feeling.


    With full moon over, he had some hopes that today would be quiet. Greg would be staying in, introducing Gustave to his daughters sometimes in the afternoon, and the rest of the werewolves were settling in, too. Maybe he¡¯d even get in an hour of sword practice without being interrupted.


    He did a quick round of the cells, checking on the newest group of werewolves, distributing newspapers and some stationary. Grooch had a stack of orders for him to sign and a bunch of complaints about the issue of the werewolves in the city to ignore. He fielded one interview and General Clairmont dropped by for a chat, but all in all, it was a quiet day.


    So of course that meant that George Louis walked up to his office just as he left with his sword. The duke had an entourage, so David couldn¡¯t even get uppity at him. Two male and a female courtier followed him, and pressed to his father¡¯s side, Prince George.


    He really should stop getting his hopes up.


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± David greeted with a sweeping bow. ¡°My prince. How can I be of service?¡±


    At least the duke didn¡¯t pretend that he was here merely by accident.


    ¡°George and I were hoping to join you at the fencing hall,¡± George Louis said.


    At those words, the lady following him gasped dramatically. ¡°Will we see another display of His Lordships skills?¡±


    ¡°Unlikely¡± George Louis replied. ¡°Lord Feleke has been teaching my son in Eoforwic. I was simply hoping he would be willing to continue the lessons.¡±


    David smoothly stepped aside. ¡°Lead the way, Your Highness.¡±


    He should have specified where George Louis should lead the way to. The bachelors in the main fencing hall glared at him while the ladies batted their fans at the duke¡¯s entrance excitedly. Some of them likely still had hopes that the duke might choose them as his queen.


    David pretended not to notice the excitement all around him. He was getting good at that. Prince George appeared to have some practice, too.


    ¡°Do you think I have mastered the basics by now?¡± he asked while warming up, as if it was just the two of them.


    ¡°We shall see,¡± David replied.


    He tried to remember what they had worked on during their few lessons in Eoforwic. It seemed like it had been ages ago, but it was less than a year.


    Before Oldstone Castle.


    George was still a pale and rather thin boy. Small for his age, too. His arms looked like they would barely be able to lift the foil, but he was deceptively quick. Undeniably, he had worked hard since they had trained together in Eoforwic. He was also eager to impress with his improvement, and visibly preened when David complimented his progress.


    David really wished he hadn¡¯t been as tired. He strained to keep one ear out to try and figure out what George Louis¡¯s game was here, but all he heard was a lady enviously telling her friend how lucky Countess deLande was to snatch a man who wouldn¡¯t need to rely on tutors to educate his own son.


    Maybe he and Lane would adopt.


    And where in the five frozen hells had that thought come from?


    As if to remind him that he wasn¡¯t on top of his game, Prince George scored a hit against his arm and asked: ¡°Have you been out hunting werewolves again, Lord Feleke?¡±


    David rubbed his wrist. ¡°Quite the contrary, Your Highness, I was up all night patrolling the shores of the Savre with my brother, the werewolf.¡±


    The prince drooped his head. ¡°I still haven¡¯t met a real one,¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t be much longer now,¡± David sighed. ¡°Greg will come into the palace soon, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    He remembered too late that the boy had probably been told ¡°soon¡± a lot in the past year.


    ¡°Father should marry again,¡± the prince grumbled darkly. ¡°It¡¯s no fun, being the only heir. Everyone is always so damn careful.¡±


    ¡°I am fairly certain that your father would be careful with your life if you had siblings, too.¡±


    ¡°Your father wasn¡¯t.¡±


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    Someone in the audience gasped, and someone else sniffed ¡°how rude.¡±


    ¡°Even if it¡¯s true,¡± another voice opined. David didn¡¯t bother looking around to see who it was.


    The prince ducked his head and quickly muttered: ¡°I apologise. I shouldn¡¯t have said that, Your Lordship.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, Your Highness,¡± David said aloud. ¡°It¡¯s a common mistake at court. My father did not want me to go hunting on my own, much less did he force me to. It was simply a necessity at the time. In fact, the first time I went, I ran away, stealing my father''s crossbow.¡±


    Let them add that to the rumours about him. At least this bit was true.


    They spent over an hour at the training hall, until George Louis had accomplished whatever he had dragged them here for, or at least had decided that they had kept up the ruse long enough. Or maybe he had really wanted the prince to have some lessons with him?


    But surely, there were more experts at the palace? People who had made it their life¡¯s work to teach young hopefuls? As much pride as he had in his skills, he wasn¡¯t a teacher.


    ¡°I was hoping to ask you for a favour,¡± George Louis said as soon as they were as alone as one could hope to be in the palace.


    David yawned. ¡°Colour me surprised.¡±


    George Louis ignored his comment. ¡°I was hoping you would allow my son and I to accompany you to Windish on your next visit. Or perhaps even bring the lady werewolf here into the palace.¡±


    ¡°Morgulon¡¯s here in the city,¡± David replied, before his brain caught up with what George Louis was saying. He rubbed his forehead. ¡°You mean the other lady werewolf?¡±


    ¡°I mean the other lady werewolf.¡±


    ¡°If you think that¡¯s a good idea, sure. I¡¯ve been introducing Greg to the city guard last night. I¡¯ll be glad to bring a werewolf or two into the palace. Are you certain you want word to get out about what happened, though?¡±


    ¡°I was given to understand by Duke Desmarais that she spends most of her time in her wolf-shape.¡±


    ¡°That she does. And I can ask her to appear like that, but she might have her own opinion on the matter.¡±


    Not that he did think it likely that Annabelle would want to enter the palace looking human. Still. She might want to talk to her son.


    ¡°Perhaps it would help if you talked to her in private first,¡± David went on. ¡°Clear the air, as it were. I will be going to Windish tomorrow, and the day after, or perhaps on half moon, we can bring a delegation here into the palace.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªwill defer to your expertise on the matter.¡± George Louis visibly shuddered. ¡°When will you be leaving for Windish tomorrow?¡±


    ***


    Since the poisoning of Count Rover, George Louis never went anywhere outside the palace without an entourage. David hadn''t quite appreciated how annoying this was until he spotted the dozen guards surrounding the duke at the railway station the next morning.


    ¡°She won¡¯t speak to you like this,¡± he warned.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be trusting in your skills when it comes to the werewolves,¡± George Louis replied. ¡°But better to take precautions.¡±


    Taking precautions meant that they had a whole waggon of their own, too. Their compartment was the middle one, with the guards filling the two adjacent ones. It left them free to talk in a resemblance of privacy, but not so private that George Louis tried more than a couple of double entendres which David pretended not to notice.


    He was getting good at that, too.


    At Windish, they had to greet Duke Desmarais¡¯s family and make nice for a bit. The princess insisted they stay long enough for a cup of tea¡ªto David''s disappointment, even the viceroy¡¯s family had either no coffee left or wasn¡¯t serving it for such a minor occasion.


    At least they left the guards behind as they left the manor. George Louis apparently felt safe enough on Desmarais¡¯s lands with only David at his side.


    To get to the house where the werewolves had been put up, they had to cross the whole estates, past the stables and workshops and farmhouses, the pastures and fields, up the hill above the little stream that made the lands fertile. As soon as they passed the last house, David could spot the werewolves. First one, then three, then the whole pack was flanking the path. They stayed far enough away that it wouldn¡¯t have been an easy shot, but they watched with interest.


    It was probably a relief for them to have distraction, even if that distraction was him. What else was there for the werewolves to do out here? At best, they patrolled the area, but that was hardly interesting. Since they were in the middle of the heartlands, their radius of movement was limited to the lands Desmarais¡¯s guards secured against unlicensed hunters.


    David clearly had better eyes than George Louis. They were halfway up the hill to the house when the duke''s head snapped around and he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are they¡ªis the whole pack watching us?"


    ¡°Relax,¡± David said quietly. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°I wish I shared your optimism. Didn¡¯t you say it¡¯s dangerous to deal with multiple werewolves on your own? Shouldn¡¯t you have a team of hunters on stand-by, in case the pack changes their minds about helping us?¡±


    David looked around at the wide-open country-side, rubbing his neck. ¡°You sure picked a great moment to panic about this.¡±


    He wondered if the wolves had heard the duke. Would it help to remind them that they were as scary for most humans as he was to them?


    ¡°Funny," George Louis growled. "Have you ever seen a werewolf jump out of the forest and rip someone you know out of the saddle in front of your very eyes?¡±


    ¡°Really, George?¡± David frowned, but the question had apparently been a serious one. ¡°Yes, I have. More than a dozen times. I lost a good friend at the hunt when Greg got bitten.¡±


    ¡°Then how? How do you face them, knowing what they are? What they do? How do you talk to them like they¡¯re real people?¡±


    David thought he saw the werewolves bristle. ¡°The same way they talk to me,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Between my fourteenth birthday and the day we realised that Greg had been turned, I¡¯ve been involved in killing a werewolf twice every three months. More, if you count those hunters who got bitten in front of my eyes, who begged me to let them go. For fifteen years, nearly any werewolf I came across was a dead werewolf. You¡¯ve seen one attack once. They¡¯ve seen me kill a hundred times. Of the two of us, you have far less to fear from them.¡±


    George Louis stared down at his feet. ¡°You must think I¡¯m such a coward.¡±


    What a weird thing to take away from his words.


    ¡°By that standard, everyone would be a coward,¡± David pointed out. ¡°I was scared, too, when I went after the two who attacked the railway, before Oldstone Castle.¡±


    ¡°You hid that well.¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°We all have to play our role, don¡¯t we?¡±


    George Louis looked up at him, then nodded slowly. ¡°Right.¡± He rubbed his hands nervously. ¡°Right. Do you think they¡¯ve seen us?¡±


    David looked back towards the pack, still watching them from the distance. ¡°I¡¯d reckon they did.¡±


    ¡°Then we probably shouldn¡¯t keep them waiting,¡± George Louis said, but still didn¡¯t move.


    David nodded and walked ahead. The werewolves jogged ahead towards their home. After a couple of steps, he heard the duke move, too.

 Chapter 133

    When David and the duke arrived at the old farmhouse where the werewolves had been put up, the door stood open. The whole pack was assembled inside the only room, clearly waiting for them, forming a half circle around the door. They were all in their human form, albeit in different stages of ¡°fully dressed.¡± Pierre wore one of his nightgown-dresses, a look he shared with Gertrude, Estelle, and Annabelle. Leon and Alister hadn¡¯t bothered with more than a pair of pants, while Remy was closing the buttons on his jacket and looked ready to do a press interview. The others ranged somewhere in between.


    Annabelle¡¯s eyes were fixed on George Louis, but the rest of the pack was more focused on David, only glancing at the duke. Had they heard them talk on the way?


    ¡°Your Highness, may I introduce Pierre, leader of this pack,¡± David said. He named the other werewolves, before adding: ¡°I believe you all heard of Duke Stuard by now?¡±


    Pierre nodded slowly. A faint smile crept onto his face, and he stepped forwards and offered his hand to shake. ¡°Pierre deChamps, to be precise, Your Highness.¡±


    David was pretty sure he could see the werewolves gloat as George Louis pressed his lips together. Maybe there was even a hint of respect when the duke reached out anyway for the briefest of handshakes.


    So they had heard their conversation outside.


    ¡°It¡¯s our honour,¡± Pierre said, smile widening. ¡°But may I ask what brings you out here, Your Grace?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to meet our newest allies, of course,¡± George Louis said, visibly catching himself. ¡°And I was hoping to speak to Annabelle.¡± He finally glanced in her direction. ¡°Since Lord Feleke talked about bringing her to the palace around half moon.¡±


    ¡°Annabelle?¡± Pierre frowned. ¡°Why her specifically?¡±


    George Louis paused, looking from werewolf to werewolf. ¡°She¡ªdid not tell you?¡±


    ¡°Tell us what?¡±


    Before George Louis could answer, Anabelle ducked her head: ¡°He. My husband,¡± then corrected herself: ¡°Was. My husband.¡±


    Alister growled at Annabelle¡¯s word, and the rest of the pack stared at her in shock. George Louis took a step backwards and David, too, lightly touched his thumb and middle finger together, trying to hide the instinct of going for the crossbow on his back. He had expected them to know.


    Remy was the first to find his voice. ¡°You never mentioned you were that high nobility,¡± he complained.


    Pierre ran a hand through his scarce hair and sighed. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell us you used to be a hunter until you had known us for over a year, Remy,¡± the elder pointed out. ¡°I suppose I¡¯m glad we¡¯re finding this out here in private. Am I correct in assuming that this isn¡¯t something you want to become common knowledge, Lord Feleke?¡±


    David glanced at George Louis. He half expected the duke to complain about not being the one asked this question, but George Louis just pressed his lips to a thin line, fists clenched behind his back.


    ¡°Ideally not, no,¡± David said. ¡°At least not right now.¡±


    He looked from face to face, but it appeared the human politics weren¡¯t all that interesting to the werewolves. They looked at Annabelle with envy instead.


    ¡°Who else are you taking to the palace on half moon?¡± Leon asked. ¡°Just her?¡±


    ¡°I was thinking R¨¦my and Annabelle on half moon, maybe one more. Then another two or three a couple of days later, and the rest of you on new moon. I was also thinking about taking some of you into the city at night, to patrol with the city guard perhaps, but I¡¯m still working on that bit.¡±


    He stepped forwards, further into the room to discuss who exactly would be going when. Annabelle headed for the door, but George Louis followed David, moving in so close their shoulders brushed.


    David frowned at the duke, who stepped awkwardly from one foot to the other, but made no move to go with Annabelle. ¡°Are you waiting for me?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m waiting for fairer weather. Of course I¡¯m waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± David sighed and managed not to roll his eyes. ¡°All right, I guess we¡¯ll talk about the details later.¡±


    As soon as he moved, the duke hurried past him out the door, onto the little path they had just walked up. Annabelle followed more slowly. She kept a few steps of distance from David, but asked: ¡°My son?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see him at half moon, if all goes to plan.¡±


    As a she-wolf.


    ¡°We can possibly arrange a meeting at my family¡¯s home afterwards, so you can talk to him. If George Louis agrees, that is. We could have all the Feleke Four there, though,¡± he added louder.


    ¡°I was expecting them to be in attendance at the palace, anyway,¡± George Louis sniffed.


    He slowed down enough for them to catch up, but kept his distance, just like Annabelle. David went down the middle of the road, with the other two of them just barely staying out of the ditch. He wondered what they would look like for the uninformed watcher. The old farmhouse the werewolves had been given sat at the very edge of the Demsarais holdings, next to wide pastures currently lying fallow. Still¡ªthere were people working on the fields in the distance.


    He swung down towards the little stream running through the estate, further away from the people. The rich plantations had reminded him of what his father had said in Eoforwic a while ago.


    ¡°That¡¯s an option, of course,¡± he said. ¡°However, you¡¯re only paying one of us so far. You might want to remedy that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me.¡±


    ¡°We did lose our main source of income a couple of years ago,¡± David pointed out. ¡°And Andrew wanted out of the business even before then. You want his time, you won¡¯t go amiss with offering an incentive.¡±


    ¡°Is that why I have seen so little of your family, really? Money?¡±


    ¡°What were you expecting? We have lives outside of your grand plans. Father is keeping an eye on his grandchildren. And Nathan has always hated the palace. ¡±


    ¡°Grandchildren,¡± George Louis repeated. ¡°What? Which one of you¡ªand who¡¯s the mother?¡±


    ¡°Greg and Morgulon.¡±


    ¡°They good?¡± Annabelle asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re doing fine, yes, thank you for asking.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re pulling my leg,¡± George Louis complained.


    ¡°Not at all.¡±


    David caught the ghost of a smile on Annabelle¡¯s face. He felt like he was going to get a kink in his neck, looking back and forth between them. Neither of them was looking or talking directly to the other.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    They weren¡¯t going to get far this way.


    ¡°Look, if you two want some privacy¡­¡± he tried again.


    ¡°No,¡± George Louis snapped, in the same instance as Annabelle said: ¡°yes.¡±


    She glared at her husband¡ªex-husband. ¡°I. Don¡¯t bite. Why so scared?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you weren¡¯t scared when that thing attacked you. And you¡¯re¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Annabelle barked the word, halting a step, closing her eyes. David could only imagine how hard this was for her. ¡°I. Am nothing. Like that monster,¡± she finally spit out.


    ¡°You are a werewolf.¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯s a hunter.¡± She pointed at David. ¡°Werewolf hunter. I am scared. Yes. Everyone. And we still. Still help you.¡±


    David buried his hands in his pockets as they snapped at each other across the path. At least they were talking now. Sort of.


    ¡°Why come at all?¡± Annabelle growled when George Louis didn¡¯t react. ¡°Want my son. Not you.¡±


    ¡°You will see him,¡± George Louis said promptly, to David¡¯s relief. ¡°He wants to see werewolves, so you will.¡±


    ¡°So. Why come?¡± Annabelle asked again. ¡°You hate us.¡±


    ¡°I do not hate you.¡±


    ¡°Called me a monster.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not¡ªyou¡¯re scary, you have to see that. But I¡¯m not stupid. You are our best hope of surviving the Rot. And the Valoise.¡±


    ¡°Funny. How you say please. And thanks.¡±


    George Louis took a deep breath. ¡°Your parents are still alive,¡± he changed the topic abruptly. ¡°They¡¯ve been on the fence, biding their time. Unwilling to commit to either side.¡±


    ¡°Talk to them?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve talked to them.¡±


    ¡°I think she¡¯d like to know if you want her to,¡± David interceded.


    Annabelle nodded.


    ¡°No. No, I do not want you to talk to them. I don¡¯t want them to see you like this. I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll help, for them to learn what happened. Why it happened.¡±


    ¡°Countess Brigelda,¡± Annabelle sniffed. ¡°Her husband? Don¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°Her husband, but anyways¡ªyes.¡±


    Annabelle slanted her head. Suddenly, she frowned, pointed at David. ¡°Him?¡±


    Geoge Louis threw up his hands. ¡°What about him?¡±


    ¡°We haven¡¯t been seeing each other since before you two married,¡± David explained.


    Annabelle nodded at David with what looked like grudging approval to him. ¡°Smart. He cheats.¡±


    Geoge Lois glared at her, but didn¡¯t deny the accusation. He did stop and turned to David to ask: ¡°Maybe you could give us some space after all.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± David asked, which earned him a glare, too.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be over there.¡± David pointed towards an old tree in the middle of the pasture they were walking along, with roots big enough that he could sit on them. As soon as he started walking, he heard Annabelle say: ¡°You. And the Relentless?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about this, Annabelle.¡±


    ¡°He say no?¡±


    ¡°Do you want to see George or not?¡± George Louis snapped. David almost turned around. Annabelle laughed, though, so he kept going.


    ¡°A killer. Bad fit. I thought. But you use my son for blackmail. So yes. Good fit indeed.¡±


    ¡°Noone has done more for your kind than David.¡±


    ¡°Or killed so many.¡±


    ¡°What if he changed?¡±


    ¡°What then? The dead come back?¡±


    David smiled bitterly when George Louis had no answer to that. He liked Annabelle. A shame they had to meet like this. She even might have been an ally in dealing with the palace intrigues.


    He sat down on a large root, swung the crossbow off his back, and leaned against the trunk. When he looked up, Annabelle¡¯s wide eyes were fixed on him, so he slowly put the weapon down into the grass.


    Geoge Louis was staring at his feet. He had to know that they weren¡¯t out of earshot in the quiet spring morning, especially not while they were talking to each other across the road. But he didn¡¯t move further away, either. Finally, he looked at Annabelle and said: ¡°David¡¯s your best chance at a future.¡±


    Annabelle shook herself. She threw one more glance in David¡¯s direction, and started walking again. ¡°George. He know? About me?¡±


    George Louis followed her, but kept his distance. ¡°No, he thinks you¡¯re dead.¡±


    ¡°Warn him?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t talked to him about it yet.¡±


    ¡°You will?¡±


    George Louis didn¡¯t answer right away, so Annabelle pressed on: ¡°Want to talk to him. Tell him.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªyes, I¡¯ll tell him,¡± George Louis said, slowly. ¡°If you agree not to reveal yourself to your parents. Or anyone who might tell them. At least not until the war is over.¡±


    David rested his chin in his hand. No wonder George Louis didn¡¯t want him to listen in, if he had truly considered not telling the prince who Annabele was.


    ¡°You. Always a price.¡± She tossed her hair back. ¡°Fine. Your coup. Your rules.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Annabelle laughed at that, too, a bitter sound. ¡°New Queen?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Sorry? Loegrion doesn¡¯t have a queen. The Roi Solei¡ª¡±


    ¡°You,¡± Annabelle interrupted him. ¡°Marry?¡±


    ¡°Did I marry again? No. There are some mistakes I¡¯d rather only make once.¡±


    David frowned. Way to turn up the charm, George Louis.


    ¡°Hated me. So much back then?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t hate you at all,¡± George Louis claimed. ¡°If it had been about you, Annabelle, I could have just started over with someone else. But I don¡¯t think I could ever be happy, bound to a woman like that. Any woman,¡± he added. ¡°I¡¯m sure it wasn¡¯t a pleasant time for you, either. And I¡¯m sorry for that¡ªthat I couldn¡¯t be a better husband to you. You did deserve better.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± David muttered to himself. He hadn¡¯t expected the duke to actually apologise. A fairly good apology, too.


    Annabelle seemed similarly surprised. By the time she had an answer, they were far enough away that David barely caught her words: ¡°Got married for politics. Not happiness.¡±


    If George Louis said anything in reply to that, David didn¡¯t catch it. He watched as the two of them walked down the winding path that led to the little river of the estate. He settled in to wait, quite relieved that George Louis had found his nerve to talk to Annabelle alone after all.


    For a minute or three he closed his eyes, simply enjoying the spring sun.


    The distinct honking sounds or migrating geese woke David. He glanced up. High up in the sky, a flock on their way further north approached.


    David¡¯s fingers twitched at the sight. He stared down the hill, but Annabelle didn¡¯t look in his direction. So he picked up his crossbow, and quickly took the silver bolts out of the action, replacing them with steel tipped ones. The geese were coming right his way.


    Black-neck geese, if he wasn¡¯t very much mistaken. Good eating. The werewolves might appreciate the meat?


    As they passed by overhead, his crossbow sang twice, and two birds fell down. The rest of the swarm honked even louder and fluttered away in sudden fright.


    Too late he realised that just because Annabelle wasn¡¯t looking in his direction, that didn¡¯t mean that no other werewolf was. As he got up to collect his prize, he saw two giant wolves race away at speed.


    Ah well. Maybe this hadn¡¯t been his best thought-out idea. Though it wasn¡¯t, strictly speaking, a bad thing for the elders to be a little fearful of him, given that they had no reason to love humanity and little to fear from regular guards.


    Really not his best idea. As he picked up the geese, it occurred to him that he hadn¡¯t talked to Desmarais about hunting rights on his lands, either. Not that he thought the duke was likely to complain. And if so, he could just pay him back.


    David pulled the dowels out of the flesh and since he had gotten up already, went to tag after Goerge Louis and Annabelle. They were still walking a few yards apart from each other, but as he approached, they stopped at the point where a narrow walkway crossed the creek. It was a slow-flowing current, and the waters underneath the bridge were green with duckweed. David grinned: George Louis was clearly trying to figure out a way to climb onto the planks without getting too close to Annabelle.


    ¡°Would you mind?¡± he finally asked. She tossed her hair again and retreated another couple of yards.


    David thought she muttered the word ¡°coward.¡± Neither of them appeared to have noticed him yet.


    Annabelle stood perfectly still, hands curled into fist, as George Louis stepped onto the wooden planks. When he was almost halfway across, she quickly stalked after him. David realised her intent just as she reached the duke: With a good push, she shoved him right over the edge.


    David had to applaud her timing: George Louis had just enough time to yell in surprise and windmill with his arms fruitlessly, before he went over the edge arse first with a big splash. Right into the weeds and the water lilies. A bunch of frogs hopped out around him and a dragonfly buzzed by. His head only went unter for a brief second, then he pushed himself out of the shallow water and into a sitting position, arms raised as if expecting an attack. A couple of water lily leaves covered his shoulders like epaulettes.


    At the sight of his face, Annabelle started laughing so hard she went in on the other side of the bridge. The duckweeds were disturbed even more, and when she came up, she was in her wolf-body, still laughing¡ªwheezing, whining¡ªso hard she staggered like a drunk, even on all fours.


    When George Louis lowered his arms, blinking around owlishly at an attack that wasn¡¯t coming, David lost it, too.

 Chapter 134

    The next day, George Louis was still mad at him for laughing. David could tell, because at their daily meeting, the duke manoeuvred him right into the arms of Lady Pettau, who was organising a ¡°little soiree to honour the defender of the country."


    It was an invitation he would have needed to be exceptionally rude to refuse. He was probably still less than graceful in his acceptance, if Lady Pettau¡¯s pout was anything to go by.


    The only person possibly even more angry at him was Grooch, once he broached the subject of bringing Annabelle and R¨¦my into the palace on halfmoon.


    ¡°This halfmoon?¡± the secretary asked. ¡°As in, next week?¡±


    ¡°Is there a problem? You won¡¯t have to talk to them.¡±


    ¡°Nonono, that¡¯s not the issue at all. But Your Lordship, do you have a room? Did you talk to the Steward? The Master of Ceremonies? Are the kitchens informed?¡±


    ¡°The kitchens?¡± David asked. ¡°Why would I tell the chefs? It¡¯s only two werewolves, and it¡¯s not like it¡¯ll be full moon.¡±


    ¡°What about refreshments?¡±


    ¡°For two werewolves?¡±


    ¡°For your guests, Your Lordship! Pardon me.¡± Grooch pushed himself out of his chair and went to sort the mail in his orderly in-trais. The action visibly calmed him down. ¡°You didn¡¯t mean to bring the werewolves here, did you?¡± he finally asked, then clarified: ¡°Into the office, I mean.¡±


    To be perfectly honest, David hadn¡¯t considered that an issue at all. ¡°What about the Grande Galerie?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Taken,¡± Grooch said at once.


    ¡°Taken. What do you mean, taken?¡±


    ¡°Lord Picot, by going through the proper channels, has claimed the Galerie for that night.¡± Grooch¡¯s tone was edging on acerbic by now.


    ¡°Fine then. How about one of the salons? There¡¯s got to be a hundred of them in the palace. Hell, I¡¯ll happily take the fencing hall. You can¡¯t tell me there isn¡¯t a single room in the palace that¡¯ll fit two werewolves and Prince George that¡¯ll be free that night.¡±


    Grooch spun around. ¡°The Prince? The Prince will be attending?¡±


    The secretary rubbed his face. ¡°Please tell me that¡¯s a joke, Your Lordship.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± David said slowly. ¡°He¡¯s the whole reason for this?¡±


    ¡°So you mean to tell me, you want to stage an event, attended by Prince George, and I presume by extension Duke Stuard, in the fencing hall?¡±


    ¡°I told you, I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re thinking this is such an issue. The prince wanted to see some werewolves, I¡¯ll bring two werewolves. It¡¯ll be half moon. It¡¯s not going to be a big deal.¡±


    ¡°Of course it¡¯ll be a big deal,¡± Grooch whimpered. ¡°Your Lordship, any event attended by Duke Stuard¡ªwho is about to crown himself king, as you might remember, and also, not to put too fine a point on it, widowed¡ªis, by definition, a ¡®big deal¡¯. Add in the prince, and you better expect every mother who has a daughter to marry off to be there! Never mind the refreshments, we¡¯ll need music! A herald!¡±


    That wasn¡¯t at all what David had had in mind. R¨¦my would probably love to have a party thrown in his honour, but how was Annabelle supposed to meet with her son like this?


    ¡°Mr. Grooch, we¡¯re talking about two werewolves here,¡± he changed tactics. ¡°They¡¯ve both been living outside of ordinary human civilization for more than a decade, have never even come close to the palace. I do not believe it to be a smart idea to overwhelm them with the whole pomp and procedure of what you appear to be envisioning right now.¡±


    Grooch blinked owlishly at him, but nodded. ¡°I see. Of course, Your Lordship. But still¡ªno, especially in that case¡ªyou need to have a room reserved, guards to keep out any nosy courtiers, a guestlist. I can only ask you to think very carefully on who else you might allow to attend¡ªif nothing else, staging this on half moon, when he¡¯s booked the Grand Galerie, is sure to snub Marquess Picot. Who did bet heavily on you in the fight against Count deVale.¡±


    ¡°Who manoeuvred me into the fight,¡± David growled. But then he sighed. In a twisted way, Picot had probably done him a favour¡ªunless he had meant to get him killed.


    And given that he still hadn¡¯t caught the traitor, the last thing he wanted was to put Annabelle and R¨¦my in a room where he couldn¡¯t keep track of everyone coming and going.


    Why did everything in the palace have to be so damn complicated?


    He didn¡¯t have time for their stupid politics. He already had enough on his hands with organising Rust¡¯s return, for which he had a meeting with the commander of the City Watch in an hour, then another bloody interview afterwards, and in the afternoon, he had to escort their new werewolves who were finally ready to leave their damn cells to a fort outside the city.


    And anyway, he was bad at bloody politics.


    He held up his hand before Grooch could say anything more. ¡°Fine. You¡¯ve made your point. I¡¯ll have someone deal with Picot. And organise the rest.¡±


    ¡°You will?¡± Grooch asked. ¡°You will organise it, or have someone else do it? And who?¡±


    ¡°I believe I already mentioned I was going to bring in my brothers to help out?¡±


    Not that George Louis had made any mention that he was finally going to pay them during this morning¡¯s meeting. But maybe Greg could deal with that, too. Or he¡¯d suggest to Nathan to breach the issue with the duke himself. If nothing else, that should be entertaining to watch.


    ¡°Ah. May I ask which ones?¡±


    David grinned, possibly with a little more teeth than necessary. ¡°You¡¯ll have the honour of being the first in the palace to meet a free werewolf,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll send Nathan, too, so don¡¯t worry.¡±


    It was high time Grooch was getting over his worries. It was stupid to have a head secretary for the Office of Werewolf Relations who was scared of werewolves. He¡¯d have raised the issue already, had he had any hope of finding a secretary more eager.


    If even Greg couldn¡¯t charm the man, well, maybe it would be time to find someone else.


    ¡°I better get going now. I¡¯ll swing by the house and brief them on my way back from  meeting Commander Bacrot.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    At least it was on the way.


    ***


    ¡°So let me get this straight,¡± Nathan asked, on their way through the city. ¡°You want me to stand behind Greg with a loaded crossbow so your secretary will work with him to organise this event? For how long?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to stand behind Greg, and I don¡¯t care if you load your crossbow. I want you to be in the same room as Greg and Grooch while I give another damn interview, and then I want you to come along as I escort the werewolves from the cells to Fort Brunich. Tomorrow you can then meet the newest round of convicts, get to know them a bit, so you can take over dealing with them if I have to leave the city for whatever reason.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s face lit up at that, but Greg didn¡¯t feel particularly reassured. ¡°What if this Grooch still doesn¡¯t want to be alone in the room with me once the interview is over?¡±


    ¡°I guess then your first job will be finding us a new assistant,¡± David shrugged.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you worked with this Grooch ever since Oldstone Castle?¡±


    ¡°I have,¡± David confirmed. ¡°And he¡¯s a good secretary, but if he can¡¯t work with you, how is he supposed to be of help in the future? I¡¯ll be bringing in more werewolves, not less.¡±


    Greg nodded slowly. He almost wished David hadn¡¯t told him about Grooch¡¯s reservations. If he hadn¡¯t known, he would have looked forward to helping out.


    ¡°But I¡¯ll be working at the palace for now?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Unless you want to go back into the mountains?¡± David asked. ¡°Pierre is certain that Edith is still alive, and that she¡¯s somewhere to the north, but that¡¯s all he could tell me yesterday. So I¡¯m thinking about sending another envoy into the Argentum Formation, west and south, probably.¡±


    Greg shuddered. ¡°I¡¯d rather not.¡±


    ¡°I figured,¡± David said. ¡°And mother will kill me if I make you go, anyways. I was thinking Dale, once he¡¯s back.¡±


    ¡°Dale¡¯s an elder,¡± Nathan objected. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s overkill?¡±


    ¡°After they tried to rip out Greg¡¯s throat?¡± David leaned back in his seat, grimaced. ¡°I figured, Dale being an elder, he¡¯d be safe from attacks like that. And it might look good, given that he has children, you know? If I give him a ¡®safe¡¯ job.¡±


    ¡°Only if you tell him that¡¯s why you¡¯re sending him,¡± Greg pointed out.


    ¡°Thank you, I sort of figured that out myself.¡±


    ¡°What about payment?¡± Greg asked. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly great fun to run that far, even in the summer.¡±


    David sighed. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to come along when I try and wrangle more of a budget out of George Louis.¡±


    ¡°Depends on how that ¡®wrangling¡¯ is going to look like.¡±


    Nathan snorted with laughter.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you hilarious today,¡± David said drily.


    ¡°What¡¯s the budget for half moon?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± David sighed. ¡°Figure something out with Grooch, but slow him down a bit, will you? When I first brought up the matter, he wanted to throw them a whole ball, or something.¡±


    ¡°R¨¦my would love that. Pierre won¡¯t say it, but I bet he¡¯d love that, too. And you could use the excitement to cover up the time when Annabelle talks to the prince.¡±


    ¡°Not you, too.¡± David¡¯s head fell back against the walls of the coach so hard there was an audible thump. ¡°No, you know what? Whatever. Do what you think is best. If you can get it organised, I¡¯ll back it. But I don¡¯t want to have to do more than sign the papers.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°Here we are.¡±


    They had indeed reached the palace, but David remained seated, head still resting against the wall of the coach, until Antonio, the driver, came walking around to open the door. Greg watched with some concern as David straightened up a second before he did, and managed a mostly believable smile. He climbed out of the coach and marched straight past the journalists outside as if he could neither see nor hear them clamouring his name.


    ¡°Think you can help out here?¡± Nathan whispered to Greg as they followed more slowly. ¡°He sure looks like he needs a hand.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡±


    Nathan patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Better you than me.¡±


    As they were about to enter the palace proper, Greg hesitated.


    How many times had he walked through those ornate, wide open doors? Often enough that he hadn¡¯t even noticed the splendour anymore, the imposing facade, the overwhelming riches all around. The effect did hit him now, no doubt just as the architect intended. He felt small, climbing the steps and looking up at the columns flanking the entrance, vulnerable. Even with Nathan at his side, he slowed down when the guards stared past him.


    Not that they really looked at him. Not while David was right in front of him and Nathan at his side. They probably just assumed he was the last Feleke. He resented that, too. It used to be the other way around. He used to be a regular at the palace. People used to know him, to greet him with a smile. David used to be the one they glared at, the outsider.


    But he was here to work. To help. So as they crossed the entrance hall, lined with statues and more guards and filled with petitioners, he tried to keep his head up, to walk like he belonged here still. And who knew? Maybe, one day, it wouldn¡¯t be so scary, to have a werewolf walk these halls.


    David¡¯s office was smaller than Greg had expected, given all the responsibility the duke had piled up on his shoulders. There wasn¡¯t even an anteroom to make visitors wait in. Just two desks¡ªone quite a bit nicer than the other. Against the smaller one leaned a man with greying hair in grey robes.


    ¡°Mr. Grooch,¡± David introduced the man. ¡°My brothers, Nathan and Gregory Feleke.¡±


    Greg offered his hand, mostly to see how the scribe would react. Given what David had said about him, it surprised Greg when Grooch did nervously reach out. His fingers were inkstained and his grip clammy, but he did shake Greg¡¯s hand.


    That was a good sign, wasn¡¯t it?


    ¡°Well met,¡± Nathan said, offering his hand as well.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you introduce my brothers to your underling,¡± David said with forced cheerfulness. ¡°I believe the reporter should be here any minute for the interview.¡±


    ¡°Underlings?¡± Greg asked as Grooch ushered them through the side door. The room behind was equally small, and home to another couple of desks.


    Both of them were deserted.


    ¡°Mr. Howell will be bringing up the reporter,¡± Grooch explained. ¡°And we do not currently have a second undersecretary. Not since His Lordship has stretched our budget to include the monthly bonus for the werewolves.¡±


    That was very typically David. Grooch didn¡¯t comment on it, but it was clear that he would have preferred the second secretary.


    ¡°It looks like you would have enough work for two more,¡± Greg commented, pointing at the papers on the desks.


    ¡°Easily. The bloody paper money alone is a pain to implement. I do believe His Lordship has spoken to Duke Stuard on the issue, but so far, no solution has been forthcoming.¡±


    ¡°So I take it the budget for half moon is going to be another issue?¡± Greg rubbed his hands together, not quite able to hide his excitement. ¡°Could you call us a messenger?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Grooch said and went to draw one of the strings that would ring a bell in another room. ¡°But what good will that do?¡±


    Greg smiled at him. A moment later, one of the boys running messages through the hallway knocked on the door. Grooch opened it, then beckoned at Greg.


    ¡°Please run to His Highness, Duke Desmarais¡¯s office, and inquire if he would be available to see the Honourable Feleke this afternoon,¡± Greg said. It was rather informal to send a verbal request rather than a written missive, but he thought David probably would have done it the same way.


    ¡°I quite believe his Lordship is busy today,¡± Grooch sniffed, once the door closed.


    ¡°Which is why I didn¡¯t specify which Feleke.¡±


    ¡°You¡ªyou want to talk to His Highness? He will never¡­¡±


    ¡°Duke Desmarais is no coward. I was a guest of his months before the High Inquisitor was run out of the city. I¡¯m quite confident he¡¯ll talk to me.¡±


    ¡°To what end, though, if I may ask?¡±


    ¡°Two dukes are better than one,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°If Duke Stuard hasn¡¯t had time to review the budget issue, perhaps Duke Desmarais will be more helpful. If he isn¡¯t, we¡¯ll have to involve Marquess Picot, but I¡¯d prefer not to do that.¡±


    ¡°Marquess Picot?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think that if we tell him what we want to stage in direct competition to his own happening, he might be amenable for a collaboration? In the meantime, may I see what money is allocated to my brother?¡±


    Grooch ran his ink stained hands through his hair, and then he smiled a surprisingly wide smile. ¡°You do know how the palace works. I¡¯ll pull the ledgers right quick.¡±

 Chapter 135

    Just as Greg had hoped, Duke Desmarais sent the messenger back with an invitation for tea. David¡¯s interview was long over by then. ¡°Good luck,¡± he said. And then he left with Nathan to deal with the unsettled werewolves in the cells.


    Grooch didn¡¯t seem to mind that he was being left alone with a werewolf. He was quite happily showing Greg all his ledgers, the reports from Rust¡¯s group, and all the journals from the university. Mr. Howell pitched in with an overview on the press situation and then both in unisono moaned about all the grief the paper money was causing them, from outright forgeries to the trouble of administering a working system of recourse.


    ¡°We should have a clerk just for this job, better two,¡± Grooch sighed. ¡°And at least one auditor to visit the camps.¡±


    All in all, Greg felt he was fairly well prepared by the time he went to call on the duke. Still, he was shaking with nerves as he presented himself. The two guards standing outside in the corridor didn¡¯t help calm him. At least they didn¡¯t carry silver.


    Even without silver weapons, this whole experiment might have taken a rather unpleasant turn here for him, had the butler greeting him recognized what he was. Fortunately, the man led him through the little waiting room and into the office proper right away.


    The duke, however, took one look at him and said:


    ¡°You¡¯re the werewolf.¡±


    ¡°Your Highness.¡± Greg bowed in reply.


    He could feel the servant¡¯s stare in his back, and heard him stutter: ¡°Your¡ªYour Highness¡ªshould I call¡­¡±


    The man trailed off when Duke Desmarais raised his hand. He thought for a moment, clearly choosing his words with care. ¡°I expected your brother. But take a seat, Lord Feleke. I take it you were the one who sent the message?¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness,¡± Greg said, breathless with relief. ¡°You are too kind.¡±


    He had hoped¡ªhe¡¯d been fairly certain¡ªthe duke wouldn¡¯t turn him away, but he hadn¡¯t quite dared to hope he¡¯d address him by his proper title. And in front of a witness, too.


    He had to fight down a mad grin as he picked one of the plush armchairs. There were four of them, forming a little seating group around a coffee table almost overflowing with the duke¡¯s usual generosity when it came to food. Today, it was all sweet: tiny cakes, candied fruits, biscuits, pastries, chocolates and a plenty of things that Greg didn¡¯t even recognize.


    ¡°Have some tea,¡± Desmarais said, settling down himself. ¡°And some cake. Or would you prefer something savoury?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Greg said. He waited until the duke helped himself, then filled one of the offered little plates with confections.


    Desmarais watched him try one of the round little chocolate balls. When Greg involuntarily smiled, he shook his head. ¡°Who¡¯d have thought a werewolf would have a sweet tooth.¡±


    ¡°We enjoy sweet treats just as much as anyone else, Your Highness,¡± Greg replied. ¡°It¡¯s just really hard to get sugar in the wilds. I was lucky Pierre¡¯s pack had access to honey. It was the only thing they could feed me after that other she-wolf tried to rip my throat out.¡±


    Desmarais smiled wryly. ¡°Reminding me how much you risked for all of us, huh? Well, I suppose I knew you weren¡¯t calling on me to catch up. Out with it then. What brings you here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m actually here to talk about food,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Well, colour me surprised. I do enjoy talking about that. What do you need?¡±


    ¡°David intends to bring several werewolves into the palace this coming half moon,¡± Greg explained. ¡°The prince has been asking to meet us, and I¡¯m sure you are aware that he¡¯s not the only one interested in seeing a ¡®real life werewolf.¡¯ I suppose I don¡¯t count,¡± he added, which earned him a chuckle.


    ¡°You do sometimes make it rather hard to believe. But I fail to see the issue?¡±


    ¡°The interest being what it is, and with war looming above us, it does not seem sufficient to start small and slow,¡± Greg explained. ¡°So what we would like to do is a little garden party. Bring in the whole pack from Windish, but keep it in the fresh air so they won¡¯t feel crowded. Give the werewolves room and the court an opportunity to meet them. However, with our current budget, the best we could manage for refreshments would be some soup, perhaps some bread. Which doesn¡¯t seem quite¡ªappropriate, given the situation.¡±


    Duke Desmarais helped himself to another piece of cake. ¡°I¡¯m aware of your current budget,¡± he said slowly. ¡°I find it hard to believe that a bit of soup is the best you could manage with that. Where¡¯s all that money going? Last I was informed, your brother only employs two scribes. His monthly allotment should allow him to host a feast every other week with what is left.¡±


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    ¡°Your Highness, are you aware how many werewolves my brother¡¯s office is supervising right now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m reckoning a few hundred?¡±


    ¡°Quite so. And each one of them receives what they call the ¡®new moon special¡¯¡ªone silver worth in paper vouchers. That bonus, being the only payment the werewolves fighting for Loegrion currently receive, has proven a positive influence not only on morale, but also recruitment. Obviously, when my brother¡¯s budget was drawn up, nobody expected that werewolves would be audacious enough to demand payment beyond food and clothes, but here we are. Once you detract the new moon special, there¡¯s just about enough left to pay the two secretaries that make up the total of his staff and the newspapers David gifts the werewolves in the cells.¡±


    Desmarais stopped eating to stare at him.


    ¡°David has brought up the issue with Duke Stuard,¡± Greg went on. ¡°And I¡¯ll be pressing the matter, too. But I doubt we¡¯ll work out the details within the next few days, so I¡¯m here to ask you, Your Highness, as lord of this castle, for your help in getting something decent out of the kitchens. Something that¡¯ll impress on the werewolves that we do feel grateful for their help, and something the lords and ladies will enjoy.¡±


    Desmarais chewed industriously on his cake, swallowed, and suddenly smiled. ¡°And if I do help you with that, I¡¯ll condone in the same action the fact that your brother is spending most of the money he¡¯s been alloted on this ¡®new moon special¡¯ rather than human employees. Quite clever.¡±


    Well, it had been too much to ask for the duke to miss that part.


    So Greg said: ¡°Thank you. I even think you should raise the special. No soldier would ever risk his life for a single silver per month. You don¡¯t want your regular troops to fear they might be replaced by cheaper werewolves, do you? Especially not right now?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t cut yourself,¡± Duke Desmarais warned. He dabbed at his lips with a napkin. ¡°I would ask you how a common soldier would ever come to think they might be replaced, but I hear from Duke Stuard that you are quite adept at handling the press, too.¡±


    The duke chased a piece of cake around his plate, chuckling softly to himself. ¡°A simple budgetary allocation. Yet such a complex issue. We allow your brother to pay your fellow werewolves, and we not only have to drum up the money in the future, we also set a precedent that werewolves may own property. Which I¡¯m not saying is a bad thing,¡± he added, before Greg could defend the point. ¡°But it will upset a lot of people.¡±


    Desmarais looked up to scrutinise Greg. ¡°I suppose my question is why did you bring this issue to me, today. Surely, our soon-to-be king would be equally capable of organising dinner? And it would be him who will have to defend the decision, even if I¡¯m willing to back it up.¡±


    Greg hesitated. George Louis probably wouldn¡¯t like the true reason getting around. But he didn¡¯t owe him anything, did he?


    ¡°It seemed rather rude to pass you over,¡± Greg said. ¡°Especially given the fact that this is in no way the final decision on any of the matters you mentioned. For the moment, it¡¯s just about one meal, and this is your castle, Your Highness. Moreover, this was about my own comfort. I¡¯d have had to wait for David to finish his other duties, since our soon-to-be king is terrified of being alone in the same room as I. It¡¯s not generally conducive to a conversation if one party can barely breathe for panic. Nor would it have been enjoyable for me.¡±


    Desmarais almost spit his tea across the table. ¡°Five frozen hells, you¡¯re serious. What about the summer solstice? He even brought his own werewolf that day.¡±


    ¡°Duke Stuard is capable of quite surprising feats when the crown is on the line. And he does trust in my brother¡¯s skills.¡± Greg picked up his own tea cup. ¡°He might have talked to me, but I didn¡¯t ask. I knew he certainly wouldn¡¯t invite me in for tea.¡±


    Desmaras chuckled darkly. ¡°I suppose that explains why the Honourable David Feleke constantly looks like he wants to strangle someone when His Grace is around. Mind you, he¡¯s always rather stiff in public. Which is just as well. The ladies are chasing him as it is, if he were more of a conversationalist, Countess deLande might have to worry.¡±


    ¡°Oh, she really doesn¡¯t,¡± Greg said, and couldn¡¯t quite stop himself from grinning.


    ¡°They are quite well matched. I don¡¯t suppose there is a date yet?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll set a wedding date until the war is over, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Countess deLande did say that already.¡±


    ¡°Just for clarity,¡± Greg changed the topic, ¡°may I ask if we can count on your support in the upcoming event?¡±


    Desmarais waved at him. ¡°Will my word suffice or do you want something written down?¡±


    ¡°I would never doubt your word, Your Highness. But I would like to have it stated clearly.¡±


    ¡°Ha. You are a smart kid. Fine. Yes, you and your brother can count on my support for your little get together.¡± Desmarais leaned back and fole his hands over his round stomach. ¡°I have to say, I¡¯m surprised your brother ever sent you into the mountains in the first place, let alone that he did it twice. Clearly, he could have used your help here earlier. You mentioned he is busy. Will he be by later, or is this on your shoulders?¡±


    ¡°Thank you very much, Your Highness. David is currently on his way to Fort Brunich, escorting some werewolves who were released just today. From tomorrow onwards, he¡¯ll be busy settling in the new convicts, so it¡¯ll mostly be me.¡±


    ¡°Splendid. Before you leave, tell me more about what you¡¯re planning,¡± Desmarais said. ¡°You mentioned a garden party? And please, have some more tea. And cake, have some cake. Or some chocolate. It¡¯s hard enough to get these days. ¡±


    Greg gladly helped himself, and began to explain what he had envisioned. When he left more than an hour later, his pockets were filled with the biscuits the duke had pushed at him. They were quite excellent and made it easier to pretend that he didn¡¯t notice the way the guards were looking at him. The butler had clearly told them about him.


    In fact, it wouldn¡¯t have surprised him if the whole palace knew by now that Duke Desmarais had received a werewolf. Hopefully, the word had spread.

 Chapter 136

    Greg softly cursed himself for agreeing to do the tour of the dungeons with David and Nathan the next morning. There was plenty to do in the office, yet he followed David across the parade-ground, to a narrow little door most people probably never noticed. David had a key.


    He went first, too, stepping onto the dingy hallway. A cool gust of wind blew into Greg¡¯s face, carrying the acrid smoke of cheap torches.


    ¡°Home sweet home,¡± Nathan commented.


    Greg could only guess that they had taken some kind of back entry. The hallway was rather narrow, and he couldn¡¯t see any guards. The torches guttered in the breeze as they passed. Still, even given the poor ventilation, there was a lot of smoke in the air. Greg''s eyes watered already.


    When they reached an intersection, David pointed through the portal and confirmed Greg¡¯s suspicion: ¡°Down that hall and up the stairs you get to the prison proper.¡±


    He reached into his pocket and pulled out three kerchiefs. ¡°Here, better cover your faces. It¡¯ll get worse down there.¡±


    The fabric only helped a little. Greg tried to breathe flatly and felt his head swim. He knew fire could hurt a werewolf. Could smoke? It certainly didn¡¯t seem like it would net them healthier werewolves.


    ¡°Did the university ever get around to testing if the environment is a factor in how a newly bitten werewolf turns out?¡± Greg asked as they reached a staircase. ¡°Would it be worth trying to get them some place nicer? Perhaps some place with fresh air?¡±


    David laughed softly. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to go to town on the palace bureaucracy, Greg. I¡¯m glad if I can get the kitchens to turn out enough food to feed everyone over the three days of full moon.¡±


    Right.


    Now that they were getting closer to the cells, he could smell blood, too, not to speak of the other bodily discharges, even over the smoke that came rising up the stairwell.


    Desmarais might be able to help with this, too. But he¡¯d have to find a way to deal with George Louis.


    ¡°These people are convicts,¡± David reminded him. ¡°If you want to make it a scientific experiment, be my guest. Just keep in mind that they¡¯re getting off lightly here, and they are used to worse. Asides, the air is going to get better.¡±


    ¡°Only if they don¡¯t turn mad,¡± Greg muttered.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if David heard him. His brother had reached a landing. A couple of guards stopped in struggling to get bales of straw through the doors to let him and Nathan pass. Greg let the guards finish their work before following. He could feel the silver on the wooden door from a half dozen yards away.


    Behind the gate were the cells where the werewolves were kept. A dense haze filled the air, making Greg cough despite the kerchief. At least now he could see where all the acrid smoke came from: About a dozen of the cells were empty, and in different stages of cleaning. The guards were burning out the ones in the very back. Nathan and David were already inspecting their work.


    The next empty one right behind the entrance was done and getting a fresh bale of straw.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother adding a second one,¡± one guard grunted as Greg passed them. ¡°That cell is cursed. Never seen a werewolf make it out of there alive.¡±


    ¡°Same amount of straw in all the cells,¡± David promptly called.


    He was introducing Nathan around. There currently were twenty-two werewolves on this corridor. Chalk marks on the walls above their cells showed how many full moons since they had been bitten. From one to four months, all stages were present. Apparently David replaced the ones he had to execute with new convicts right away.


    The thought made Greg¡¯s skin crawl.


    He tried not to look at them too closely, didn¡¯t try to remember the names David told Nathan. He¡¯d rather not know them as people. He¡¯d rather not know them at all.


    How did David deal with that? With killing not strangers, but people he was familiar with, even discussed the daily crossword with?


    He killed them, and then he just started over with new werewolves? Like one started over with new chickens when they stopped laying eggs.


    Like today.


    As soon as the smoke had cleared a little, and all the cells had straw and fresh buckets inside them, a shout came from the entrance. ¡°Lord Feleke? Delivery for you!¡±


    Greg was sure he saw David roll his eyes at that. His brother did turn around, striding towards the entrance. ¡°I¡¯m here, Mr. Lagall. Did you bring their files this time?¡±


    A portly man in a black uniform stood in the entrance. Behind him, there was a line of shackled people wearily eyeing the cells. When he craned his neck, Greg saw more guards.


    ¡°Yes, of course, Your Lordship,¡± the leader said. ¡°I still got no idea why you want to know so much about the sorry bastards, but I¡¯ve got them all today. I just need your signature right here, and then they¡¯re your problem.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that,¡± David said, taking the documents the man handed him.


    It was a surprisingly lengthy process. David asked each of the prisoners for their names, checked them against the files, checked their crimes, too, before he signed for each one separately. Only then were they taken off the chain that connected them and led to a cell, where the manacles were removed as well.


    Most of them were convicted for theft, then there were a couple of smugglers and also two embezzlement cases. One man had been sentenced for fraudulently impersonating a priest¡ªwhich earned a bawdy cheer from the werewolves already in the cells.


    The only woman in the group was stick thin. She kept her head down and her eyes closed throughout the whole procedure. When he got to her file, David for once didn¡¯t read the charge out loud. Greg only saw it when he passed the papers onto Nathan: Prostitution and endangering public health.


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    Greg couldn¡¯t help but wonder which important official she had created an expensive and embarrassing healer¡¯s visit for.


    Finally, there were two men left, one charged with piracy and one with highway robbery.


    These last two, David questioned about the details of their crimes. He didn¡¯t look happy when both men swore they had never killed anyone, but in the end, he did sign for them, too.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to talk to the professor again,¡± he muttered, as the last prisoners were dumped in their cells and their shackles taken off.


    ¡°Who bit them?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°Nobody yet,¡± David replied. ¡°I did consider having it done in the regular prison, but seeing how they are apparently unable to send me only non-violent criminals, I reserve the right to send them back. Can¡¯t do that if they have already been bitten.¡±


    ¡°Really. You sometimes¡ªwhat, just go nope, not taking them?¡±


    ¡°Since I keep getting killers, yes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not making Greg do it, are you?¡± Nathan asked, looking over his shoulder at him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± David grumbled. He glanced at a pocket watch. ¡°Lafayette and Porter should be here in a moment.¡±


    The woman charged with prostitution had ended up in the ¡°cursed¡± cell, right behind Greg. It still had slightly less straw, but if she had noticed, she gave no sign.


    ¡°Does it hurt?¡± she asked softly. ¡°The first full moon?¡±


    Greg considered pretending that he hadn¡¯t heard her, or that Nathan had talked about somebody else. But when she kept staring at him, he replied: ¡°It does hurt. Not just the first time. But it gets better as you learn to go through the transformation faster.¡±


    ¡°If we live long enough,¡± the man in the next cell muttered.


    As if on cue, a hunter walked in, followed by a giant wolf and a very tall, very slender young man with a small suitcase. Greg knew two of them¡ªLafayette had helped out with the Lackland Company, and Porter was of course the same one he had met in Sheaf. The last one he couldn¡¯t place.


    Porter promptly trotted over to the ¡°cursed¡± cell. His tail wagged lazily, bumping into Greg¡¯s shoulder in greeting. When David moved to open the first cell, Greg hurried out of the way.


    Not that he could walk far. He balled his fists nervously, but then couldn¡¯t look away as Porter quite gently bit the woman in the arm. The strange young man with the suitcase ducked in afterwards, to bandage the wound.


    Greg still stared at the strange woman as she collapsed into her straw, arms folded around her head, and tried not to flip the coin in his mind. Too late now, it was already flying high. All they could do was wait for it to land. Heads or tails, which would it be for her? For the next guy? For any of them? It was out of their hands now.


    He glanced over at David, at Nathan, whose faces were set. Not even without pity, just unwavering.


    Relentless.


    They both had done worse. Greg had known that, intellectually, but it was weird to witness it now. Suddenly, he understood much better the fear just naming the two of them caused amongst older werewolves.


    Luckily, they didn¡¯t linger in the cells after the procedure.


    ¡°I¡¯m not killing any of them,¡± Greg said, as soon as they were back outside. ¡°I don¡¯t care how they¡¯re turning out. I¡¯m not doing that again.¡±


    He expected a rebuttal, expected either of his brothers to point out that that was the whole point of the job. That to protect the people they had to kill the monsters.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± David said instead. ¡°I can deal with that part myself.¡±


    Which was worse than a reprimand, in a way. Inadequate, that was what it made him feel. A very familiar feeling in David¡¯s presence. His brother would never shirk his duties so, would never refuse to do what was necessary.


    Greg still didn¡¯t take back his words. He was done with the killing.


    He was glad that he had stated it so clearly, too. He didn''t think he''d have been asked, in any case. But still: In the office, Grooch hovered around the door, looking unhappy. ¡°Urgent telegram from a Captain Fletcher, currently of Deeshire, Your Lordship. He''s requesting a hunter.¡±


    ¡°Does the telegram say why?¡±


    ¡°Only if the word ¡®spreader¡¯ means anything to you.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Yes.¡±


    ¡°This Fletcher, he knows what he''s talking about?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°He should. He was at Oldstone Castle, I explained some things, and he talked to Andrew, too. Has been responsible for the army''s dealings with werewolves in the north-east ever since.¡±


    ¡°Well then. Just that one spreader?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°I don''t suppose he mentioned how long it has been active?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately not, milord.¡±


    David held a hand out for the slip of paper, but looked at Nathan. ¡°Can''t risk you going alone,¡± he said.


    ¡°Really. Want me to take Lane?¡±


    ¡°No. I''ll check where Ronon is at right now. Worst case, you''ll have to take the circus act.¡±


    Nathan groaned. ¡°Oh, come on! You sure I can''t take Lane? I mean, Big Bart is fine, but damn Little Roy? Don¡¯t we have anyone better?¡±


    ¡°You,¡± David shrugged. ¡°And Ronon. But if I''m not mistaken, he''s down at Southshire. Andrew, if you can convince him to come.¡±


    ¡°Damn. We need more hunters.¡±


    ¡°Do you know anyone decent?¡±


    Nathan groaned again. ¡°Fine. Whatever. If Roy starts with his self-made gadgets again, I''m punching him.¡±


    ¡°Well, I won¡¯t be there to stop you,¡± David said. ¡°Just be careful.¡±


    ¡°Me? I¡¯m always careful.¡±


    Greg listened to the banter, stepping from one foot to the other. He hadn¡¯t gotten around to requesting a room and a desk for himself and Nathan yet. But then, it looked like Nathan was about to leave.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be next door?¡± he asked David.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be working on the half moon thing?¡± David asked back. ¡°Let me know if you need anything from me.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    Mr. Howell helped him clear off the second desk. Just as he was done setting it up, Nathan walked in. ¡°I wanted to say good-bye,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll be on my way to Deeshire by the time you finish here. Via Northwold, to pick up the clowns.¡±


    ¡°Have fun at the circus,¡± Greg said, leaning back in his chair.


    ¡°Screw you,¡± Nathan replied cheerfully, but patted him on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m glad someone¡¯s staying here to help David. And I¡¯m double glad it¡¯s not me.¡±


    Greg squeezed his hand. ¡°Take care?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I will. You too, though.¡±


    With that, Nathan hefted his walking spear, striding out of the room. It was weird, looking after him. For the first time, Greg was glad that he hadn¡¯t even been asked to go on a hunt. He had work to do.


    Howell had a copy of all the officially scheduled events in the palace. The garden was taken for a game of hide and seek, but only in the afternoon. So Greg wrote a request to book it for dinner and the rest of the night, and added a formal apology for the short notice.


    Grooch offered to pass the papers on to David to sign, and didn¡¯t quite manage to hide the fact that he just wanted to read them first.


    The secretary handed the pages over without comment, so he apparently approved of both the text and Greg¡¯s penmanship. David barely even glanced at them before he signed them both.


    Greg bit his lips, and briefly wondered what else he could make his brother sign.


    Not that they had time to fool around. Still, given David¡¯s current authority, it was a little tempting.

 Chapter 137

    Nathan took the twelve o¡¯clock west, riding with Bairn in a livestock compartment. He sat on the ground, with a bale of straw as his backrest, both legs stretched out in front of him. The sight of the wooden foot was still a little disconcerting, but he was starting to get used to it. The pain he would never get used to. It was a dull, throbbing ache today, sapping his energy. Not debilitating, but exhausting. He had never understood before losing his leg just how tiring pain could be.


    He shifted around a bit, which caused a flare¡ªlike a needle, jabbing up the remaining lower leg. Nathan gasped and reached for the bottle of opium tincture, even though he didn¡¯t like the dizziness it brought. Maybe it was the new movement that did it, but the jabbing subsided before he had the bottle open. He froze in an awkward position, leg half propped up. His head fell forwards and he took a few deep breaths, steeling himself for another attack as he slowly straightened out again.


    But nothing more happened, so he put the bottle away again and moved the spear that leaned against his shoulder into a better position. His crossbow rested on the ground next to him. He hadn¡¯t bothered with provisions. David had made arrangements for him to get those in Deeshire.


    For now, he was travelling in the opposite direction, to get himself some backup.


    Secretly, Nathan had hoped that the circus act wouldn¡¯t show, but by the time the train trundled into Northwold¡¯s only station, Big Bart and Little Roy were waiting on the plattform. Both of them looked needlessly surprised when he stepped onto the ramp. Yes, it was a bit slippery under his wooden foot, but he had his trusty spear to lean on. It wouldn¡¯t have been a problem if Big Bart hadn¡¯t been trying to be helpful and in reaching for Bairn¡¯s reins, spooked the stallion.


    ¡°Back off,¡± Nathan growled at Little Roy, who was really working hard at being ever more useless than his companion and trying to take the spear out of his hands. Nathan almost did slip then, but managed to wrench the spear free and regain his balance.


    ¡°Five frozen hells, stop trying to help, you suck ass at it.¡±


    At least Big Bart backed up at Nathan¡¯s swearing. He had probably hurt the big guy¡¯s feeling, judging by his face. Not that Nathan gave a damn. He managed to calm his horse, and finally made it onto the safe grounds of the plattform.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± he commented. With both feet on solid ground, he could switch the reins to the hand holding the spear. ¡°Exactly how I wanted to start this off. I¡¯m Nathan Feleke. Yes, I¡¯m the one who got injured at Oldstone Castle. No, I don¡¯t need help. I¡¯ll need even less help if you don¡¯t try to take the spear out of my hands, thank you very much.¡±


    When the two other hunters just stared at him, he held out his hand. ¡°Nathan Feleke,¡± he repeated. ¡°Hello. Can we get moving? I¡¯d like to reach Deeshire today, and we won¡¯t unless we catch that train.¡±


    He waved at the other rail track.


    ¡°Your Lordship,¡± Roy said, as if he still couldn¡¯t quite believe it.


    Nathan sighed. Bart and Roy were part of the reason why city people had such a warped idea of werewolf hunters. The circus act loved to talk to the press and they loved to claim that werewolf hunting was a ¡°noble¡¯s occupation¡± only sometimes taken by common folks.


    ¡°Call me Nathan,¡± he said. The other train whistled loudly. ¡°Can we get going? Do you have everything you need? I¡¯m assuming my brother¡¯s telegram rached you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it did,¡± Bart said.


    Nathan started moving before he had finished speaking.


    ¡°A suspected spreader,¡± the large man went on, as if he needed to prove they had gotten the message. ¡°Northern Lowlands. We¡¯re supposed to investigate and take the appropriate steps.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Nathan headed down the platform at just short of a run. The train whistled again. Northwold only had two lines, but they still had to get off the platform, and then onto the other one. It seemed needlessly complicated, but then, people probably didn¡¯t change trains in Northwold often.


    They stashed the horses and had the conductor glare at them as they climbed into a passenger waggon. Nathan wasn¡¯t sure if the train would have waited for them if he hadn¡¯t waved the pass David had given him.


    ¡°Your brothers won¡¯t join us?¡± Roy asked as they settled down.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only, one doesn¡¯t hear of the Feleke Four hunting alone.¡±


    Nathan settled into the cushions and sighed. ¡°Of the ¡®Feleke Four¡¯ one has retired, one is running half the war effort, one is a werewolf, one is undecided, and one is right here. Why did you think I came all the way out here to pick up you two?¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t a werewolf excel at hunting their own kind?¡±


    ¡°We barely have enough werewolves to fight the Rot, why would we waste one¡¯s time, doing what a human can do?¡±


    Why would they risk Greg, one of their older, more experienced ones?


    But if he told the two clowns about the age-thing, he might as well shout it off the rooftops. Rambouillet would know within a week.


    It was a long, long ride. Roy wanted to know everything about what was happening at the palace, which Nathan didn¡¯t know much about, and Bart wanted to know about the war, which he couldn¡¯t really talk much about, either. Switching trains in Eoforwic interrupted the two for a moment, and then they were finally on the last stretch towards Deeshire.


    The city had a big recruitment office of the army, to which currently one Captain Fletcher was attached. Apparently, the villages and small towns bordering the northern wilds were prime recruiting grounds for werewolves. Given how much time he had spent hunting werewolves in the very same area, that was somehow both surprising to Nathan and not.


    The line from Eoforwic to Breechpoint stopped twice at Deeshire: the smaller plattform sat right outside the western gate, where the line swung south to run around the city. A larger station sat next to the eastern gate. Here, a second, newer line had started construction. Once finished, it would carry the lumber from the forests south of the Hafren to Eoforwic and beyond. Possibly, it would run all the way to Mannin one day, too. Right now, it didn¡¯t even come close to the forests, and mostly carried farmers and their produce.


    It would also get Nathan and the circus act within ten miles of the village that had reported the spreader.


    Captain Fletcher waited for them at the plattform. Nathan didn¡¯t remember him from Oldstone Castle, but he knew enough about the army to recognize the rank insignia, and how many captains were likely to hang around the station?


    ¡°Lord Feleke, I presume?¡± the man asked, as soon as the three hunters got off the train.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Nathan could tell he almost bowed.


    ¡°My men have prepared supplies for you,¡± the captain added.


    ¡°Thanks. Is there anything else we should know, or did you come to sightsee?¡±


    ¡°No, Your Lordship.¡± The captain paused again. Nathan reckoned the officer was probably younger than he was.


    ¡°I¡¯m no hunter,¡± Fletcher went on just before Nathan could prompt him again. ¡°But I think there¡¯s something off. The original description I received matched exactly what I was told about spreaders, but when I attempted to get more information from the villagers, very little was to be had.¡±


    ¡°Contradictory, too, huh?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°No, Sir. That¡¯s what made me wary. All three villagers I spoke to gave the exact same story, almost verbatim. I still don¡¯t know much about werewolves, but I do know my men only ever agree on how a fight started if they all rehearsed the story.¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± So the young man wasn¡¯t entirely inexperienced. ¡°Yes, that is somewhat concerning. Not too unexpected, though. My brother sent us to investigate before taking any action. So I reckon we¡¯ll get on with that.¡±


    The captain¡¯s words didn¡¯t really concern Nathan. Farmers sometimes rehearsed their stories, fearing that the powers that be wouldn¡¯t take them seriously otherwise. Or maybe there really wasn¡¯t a spreader. Maybe it was just a wild dog. Or maybe this was David¡¯s lucky day, and they were about to run into an elder werewolf that had ventured out of the forest and run afoul of a particularly recalcitrant village.


    Nathan didn¡¯t care. As long as it got him out of Deva for a week, he was happy to chase will-o''-wisps around the countryside.


    Though he would have preferred to do it with a different company.


    Big Bart took his sweet time picking supplies, so even though they had arrived at Deeshire with plenty of time, they had once again to hurry to make their final connection. The words ¡°hunters travel light¡± also didn¡¯t seem to mean much to him.


    Nathan felt a little sorry for the man¡¯s horse. Not enough to dampen his mood, though. He hummed tonelessly to himself as they climbed aboard the last train that left Deeshire. It was packed full with farmers returning from the city markets¡ªor possibly from Eoforwic¡¯s and Breachpoint¡¯s more lucrative markets¡ªand Nathan didn¡¯t even bother with trying to get a seat. He stayed right with Bairn.


    Night was falling by the time they reached the end of the line. Calling it a station was generous: Just a bit of raised ground, a farm track leading away, thriving wintercorn all around. Not the mingy, deformed little plants Nathan would have expected elsewhere. Even on the field¡¯s borders, where the alchemy tended to thin¡ªif the farmer could afford a treatment at all¡ªonly showed bright green rows of healthy seedlings.


    Deeshire and the surrounding lowlands¡ªall the way to the Hafren¡¯s shores and King¡¯s Haven¡ªhad always been the country¡¯s breadbasket. And a good place for a werewolf hunter to establish himself.


    No doubt the two facts were connected.


    A cold breeze blew into his face, and Nathan smiled. He spurred Bairn to go as fast as Bart¡¯s horse could possibly follow, his heart beating wild in excitement. Part of him hoped that it was a mad werewolf, a real monster. He was yearning for a good hunt, just him and the beast. Something simple, uncomplicated by moral quandaries. A killer, please, give him one of those.


    ¡°Want to bet on what it¡¯s going to be? Two silvers say it¡¯s a killer.¡±


    Roy apparently was losing some of the class conceit. ¡°I¡¯ll take that bet, milord. I¡¯ll say it¡¯s just some spooked kid that killed some livestock.¡±


    Oh, please. Please not.


    ¡°Well, that doesn¡¯t leave me much options. Let¡¯s see.¡± Bart stared up into the darkening sky, as if the first starts rising there had an answer. ¡°I¡¯ll say it¡¯s both. There was a spreader, but it moved on and left a few new bites behind. They just went through their first full moon and killed some sheep and now the villagers got spooked and want them dead.¡±


    ¡°Damn, that¡¯s specific,¡± Nathan said. ¡°I¡¯ll take it. Again, two silvers, how long until we find tracks? Closest guess wins.¡±


    ¡°Midnight,¡± Roy said at once.


    Bart stared into the heavens again. ¡°Two hours.¡±


    ¡°Okay, then I¡¯ll go with dawn.¡±


    Bart won the second bet about an hour later. They had just lit their torches when a trail parted the field, ran across the dirt path, and down the other side. The tracks could have been drawn with a ruler.


    What not even Bart had predicted were the other sets of prints almost covering up the werewolves tracks. At least two riders had followed the quarry.


    ¡°Will you look at that,¡± Nathan muttered. ¡°Great. We¡¯ve got competition.¡±


    So much for simple.


    ¡°Do we follow the trail, or do we continue to the village?¡±


    ¡°Trail,¡± Nathan replied. He suddenly saw Greg in front of his inner eye, running scared and alone across what had to be the least modern area north of the White Torrent. Whoever these other hunters were, they probably wouldn¡¯t stop to check what they were dealing with.


    The church had never been driven out of Deeshire, had they?


    And it didn¡¯t even look like this was the spreader. The trail was dead straight. Mad werewolves didn¡¯t move like this. Not often, at least.


    Damn it, he had wanted something simple. A nice, straight forward killing spree, was that really too much to ask for?


    Well, there might be one if the farmer caught them cutting straight across his rye.


    As the circus act struggled to keep up with him, Nathan once again wished he had someone, anyone else, by his side. He¡¯d never make another joke about Andrew being too slow if only he could get his brother to go with him next time. Maybe his brother would even be here with him right now, if he had kept his mouth shut a little more often.


    Hindsight and all that.


    The trail just went on and on, nearly as straight as an arrow¡¯s flight, across the field, a pasture, through a forest, across creeks and roads. The only time it veered off was to avoid trees or other obstacles.


    Straight north.


    ¡°Your Lordship, do you reckon it¡¯s a sane one?¡± Roy asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nathan growled. He didn¡¯t reckon. He could tell. A creature in full flight didn¡¯t run in a line this straight unless it was running towards something, right? This wasn¡¯t just one sane werewolf. Whoever it was, they had to be sensing an elder, or possibly something else that drew them into this direction.


    An elder would be nice, but if they wanted to win them over, they better save whoever was fleeing towards them.


    ¡°Let¡¯s rest the horses,¡± Nathan growled. Bairn could probably go a while longer, but Big Bart¡¯s gelding certainly needed a breather.


    ¡°Bart. Anything you can leave behind? We need to travel light. You¡¯re not going to need a pan to fight some poachers, are you?¡±


    ¡°No, but¡­¡±


    ¡°But what? There¡¯s an innocent¡¯s life on the line. You¡¯re not going to tell me that some cast iron is more important than that, are you?¡±


    ¡°¡­no, your Lordship.¡±


    ¡°Good. Then start getting rid of anything you won¡¯t need to fight. We can come back to pick it up later.¡± Nathan disconnected his own saddle packs. He could fight on an empty stomach, if need be. Worst case, he might have to leave Bart and Roy behind.


    After half an hour, they walked on, leading the horses. Nathan wished he had brought his other foot for his wooden leg. This one worked better with the stirrups, but made walking harder.


    Still, it wasn¡¯t him slowing them down.


    Mithras¡¯s flaming torch, how did these two ever catch up with anything?


    As the moon set, he gave up. David would kill him, but goddamnit.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait for you two,¡± he growled. ¡°Turn around and see what you can find in the village. We have to make sure that there wasn¡¯t a spreader in the area after all.¡±


    With that he took off, as fast as his legs would carry him. Bairn followed him; he needn¡¯t have held onto the reins. He didn¡¯t look over his shoulder as Bart and Roy yelled after him. He could hear them stumble around in the dark, protesting and trying to catch up to him.


    ¡°Your Lordship, you¡¯ll never make it at this pace,¡± Bart protested, panting just from the effort of walking and talking at the same time.


    ¡°I can keep this up all night,¡± Nathan gave back. He could. He had. In the cold, too, with his leg freezing off. Hell, a year ago he would have been jogging all the way.


    And while he was terrified at the thought of being too late, of only finding a cold, skinned and headless corpse, he was also glad. So very glad at the wind in his hair and the endless sky above him. This was the moment he lived for.


    Let David yell at him when it was all over.

 Chapter 138

    Nathan walked, leading his horse, until he found fresh horse droppings on the ground, still warm to the touch. At that point he climbed into the saddle, driving Bairn in a last effort. They were crossing through a light forest at that point, so he heard them¡ªheard someone screaming, hidden in the underbrush¡ªbefore he saw the light of their torches: two men, no longer on horseback, that was all he could tell in the predawn gloom. One had his crossbows out, the other bent over a brush with a knife.


    Another wail, high pitched and scared.


    As soon as he had a clear line of sight, Nahan slowed his stallion down to a smoother, ambling gait and fixed the spear to the saddle. Then he swung the crossbow off his back. It didn¡¯t look like he was going to kill a werewolf tonight, yet he didn¡¯t bother with replacing the quarrel. The nice thing about silver bolts was that they killed humans just as dead as werewolves.


    The stranger bending over whatever hid in the brush never had a chance. He probably wasn¡¯t even aware that Nathan was there when the bolt hit him in the back. He staggered, trying to look over his shoulder, trying to reach for the silver.


    Good luck with that.


    Nathan watched, crossbow raised, as the man coughed and swayed. Waited for the second hunter to turn to him or to help his comrade, so that he¡¯d present his back or front for a second shot. Unfortunately, the man was smarter than that. He jumped behind a tree, out of sight, out of the line of fire.


    ¡°Cease fire!¡± he called. ¡°It¡¯s not what it looks like!¡±


    ¡°Really! So you two aren¡¯t unsanctioned hunters killing a werewolf without a crown warrant?¡±


    The high-pitched voice whimpered again somewhere in the shadows. The werewolf in question, Nathan hoped. Then at least they were still alive.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± the stranger whispered, then added louder: ¡°You¡¯re one of the crazies? You really think the monsters will save you? She¡¯s cute now, but you just wait till your back is turned!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Nathan Feleke,¡± Nathan called back, mostly for the werewolf still hidden in the dark. ¡°My brother is a werewolf.¡±


    ¡°Mithras have mercy,¡± the hunter interrupted him. ¡°Are you that infidel who killed the High Inquisitor?¡±


    ¡°You heard about that, huh? No, that was my other brother. But if you¡¯d like to join your dear Inquisitor in his watery grave, I¡¯m sure I can arrange that.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t quite enough to make the other hunter leave his hiding place. Shame.


    Nathan climbed out of the saddle and, keeping Bairn¡¯s body between himself and the stranger, replaced the missing quarrel with a steel-tipped one in his crossbow. The sound of the lever pulling the string echoed loudly between the trees.


    ¡°Want to do this the easy or the hard way?¡± Nathan called. And then he waited. He wasn¡¯t good at waiting, so he counted, slowly, to a hundred in his head, listening for any move.


    When he got to a hundred, he smiled. ¡°I had hoped that would be your answer. It¡¯s a child, isn¡¯t it? The werewolf you were about to murder?¡±


    ¡°A monster,¡± the other hunter growled.


    ¡°See, I doubt that. Children don¡¯t turn into monsters so easily. That¡¯s what the professors at the university think, at least, and they know how to make the numbers dance and sing.¡±


    That was for the kid again, wherever she was hiding.


    ¡°I think I just shot a monster. Your companion. Think he¡¯s dead? Slowly bleeding out? I hope so. I don¡¯t think there should be room in this world for grown men who stalk little girls.¡±


    ¡°That is not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it? How old is she? Naked, too, after running as a wolf, isn¡¯t she? What did you feel when you saw her turn human, you sick bastard? How holy were your feelings?¡±


    Everyone had a trigger point. If he could figure out the stranger¡¯s¡­


    Unfortunately, the other hunter wasn¡¯t stupid. ¡°You won¡¯t goad me like that. I¡¯m on the righteous path. She killed her father and bit several honest folks, three days after new moon. Tell me how that doesn¡¯t make her a monster, go on!¡±


    Nathan¡¯s heart sank, right until he heard the sobbing. Mad werewolves didn¡¯t sound like that. David would have long since broken if they cried like that.


    But then why?


    ¡°What happened?¡± he asked. ¡°Hey kid. I can hear you. I can hear you cry. Rabid werewolves don¡¯t cry, except in fury. So tell me. What happened?¡±


    He waited, but all there was was a sniffle, a stifled sob.


    ¡°Did they do stuff to drive out the demon after you got bitten? To cure you? Did they hurt you?¡±


    No reaction.


    ¡°Did they hurt someone else perhaps?¡±


    Another sob, louder this time.


    ¡°A friend of yours? Someone who sheltered you?¡±


    He held his breath, held it until it became painful. And finally, there was a whisper. ¡°Gramps.¡±


    Nathan exhaled softly. ¡°He, your gramps, he was helping you? Hiding you?¡±


    ¡°Granny. Gramps didn¡¯t know. But he helped. When dad and the bad men came.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your gramps now? And your granny?¡±


    ¡°They hit him. Dad brought a flail. He hit gramps. And then granny.¡±


    Nathan decided not to ask again if they had survived. It was almost funny: One man killed, several more bitten, probably, three days after new moon? If you left out the grandparents and the flail, it sounded like so many other spreaders starting their killing sprees.


    ¡°You heard her,¡± Nathan called out to the hunter. ¡°That¡¯s self defence in my book.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s lying.¡±


    Nathan smiled grimly. ¡°I thought you¡¯d say that. I¡¯m even somewhat glad. If you¡¯d turned out to be a reasonable fellow, I¡¯d have felt bad about killing your comrade.¡±


    He swung the crossbow back onto his back and loosened the spear from the saddle. ¡°Last chance, man. Drop your weapons and come forwards, hands raised!¡±


    He counted to thirty this time, that was as long as his patience lasted.


    ¡°All right then.¡±


    He slapped Bairn¡¯s flank with a flat hand. The stallion neighed and bolted, right past the tree the bastard was hiding behind. Nathan jogged after the horse, but took the other side of the tree. The stranger¡¯s pistol barked like thunder. Bairn reared, screaming, hooves flashing, kicking at the hunter. The man cursed and realised just a second too late that there was nobody in the saddle. He whirled, bringing the pistol around, but lost his nerves and fired blindly. The shot went wide and the pistol was empty.


    Nathan smiled grimly. The other hunter stumbled backwards, but his spear snaked forwards, goring the man like a boar. In through the stomach and out the back, shattering the ribs.


    ¡°Should have come quietly,¡± Nathan muttered. He pulled the spear back slowly, to stop it from splattering the man¡¯s guts all over himself. It didn¡¯t make much difference. He still ended up covered in blood.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered. He¡¯d look really reassuring when he found the kid.


    Over Bairn¡¯s pained snorting, he couldn¡¯t hear her.


    The bastard had shot the stallion. Bairn was still up and moving, but there was blood running down his chest.


    ¡°Fucking asshole,¡± Nathan muttered. ¡°David better spring for a healer. Come here, Bairn, lemme see¡­¡±


    To his relief, the blood didn¡¯t come from the chest, but further up. A clean through and through, tunnelling the thick muscle of the stallion¡¯s neck. Better than the chest, at the very least.


    ¡°Bloody idiot.¡±


    Nathan sighed and put down the spear, then the crossbow, too. ¡°Hey kid. You still there? I¡¯m not going to hurt you.¡±


    He took a step forward, then checked himself. After all the things he¡¯d just hurled at the dead hunter, he probably should keep some distance. Some clothes would be great?


    ¡°Hang in there, kid. I¡¯ll be back in a moment. Let me see if I can find something for you to put on that isn¡¯t covered in blood.¡±


    The two hunters had come on horseback. A spare shirt would do, for now, right? Hells, he¡¯d take a horse rug.


    The animals hadn¡¯t run far, and even better, they had stuck together. Yet when Nathan returned to the site of the fight, there was no child in sight. Only a trail leading further north. Now that they weren¡¯t trampled over by hooves, and dawn was coming, it was quite obvious that they were smaller than regular werewolves¡¯ tracks. But the most notable thing was the limb.


    ¡°Hey kid!¡± he called out. ¡°Do you have a plan? I can get you to a safe place.¡±


    There was no answer. He hadn¡¯t really expected one, but it would have been nice. ¡°Sorry, Bairn,¡± he muttered. ¡°Job¡¯s not done yet.¡±


    He climbed into the saddle of what he judged to be the fitter horse of the dead hunters¡¯, leading the second one along. Bairn followed like the well-trained animal he was. And on they went.


    ¡°Where¡¯s David when you need him?¡±


    He could really use his brother¡¯s stoic patience right now. Where did the girl think she was going?


    Hells, Andrew would have been complaining for the past three hours, but at least he would have some food to share.


    ¡°Food would be nice right now. Shouldn¡¯t have left all the provisions behind.¡±


    It took him a minute before he remembered that he had now two fully packed horses. He stared down at the saddle bags. ¡°Damn, I¡¯m an idiot.¡±


    Maybe it was time for a break. His head felt all foggy. How many hours was he up now? He¡¯d feel better once the sun rose all the way, but right now it seemed like a tricky task just to get the saddle bags open and check for food.


    ¡°Dry bread and mouldy cheese. Great. So bait is out, too.¡±


    He started whistling to himself, just to stop his head from dropping down onto his chin.


    ¡°No wonder David hates going out alone. Nobody to stop you from falling out of the saddle. Fuck.¡±


    The girl was still running in a straight line. It looked nearly as unnatural as the zig-zagging of a werewolf fighting itself. Something was surely drawing her in, and he could only hope that it really was an elder. Maybe he should rearm his crossbow with silver.


    But if it was an elder, that wouldn¡¯t be helpful, would it? And a Rot-queen wouldn¡¯t be impressed by a bolt, either.


    He checked the weapon anyway. One silver bolt, one steel. It would have to do. It wasn¡¯t like he wanted to shoot anyone else.


    Maybe he¡¯d catch up with the girl before they reached whatever was out there.


    Just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard a loud bark echo through the trees. It sent a jolt through his whole body, a bolt of energy. Stronger even than really good coffee. His head snapped up, his back straightened, and his eyes no longer wanted to fall shut.


    ¡°Right. That¡¯s an elder. Awesome. I probably smell like blood and death a mile against the wind. And there Andrew keeps saying I don¡¯t know how to make a good first impression.¡±


    He spurred the horse on. Time to get this over with. Before he did fall asleep in the saddle.


    A minute or two later, he saw movements through the light trees, huge, dark shapes moving around something in their middle. The werewolves spotted him at the same moment. Again, that magical bark sounded, and the horse bucked under him in sudden terror. Nathan lost the one he¡¯d been leading as he fought to stay in the saddle. Even Bairn bolted, but slowed quickly. As quickly as the echo faded, the horses¡¯ panic subsided again.


    A powerful elder. Rumour had it that no dog would ever hunt Morgulon, but Nathan had never seen Bairn flee from a werewolf. Why hadn¡¯t it driven them further away, though?


    Nathan clung to the saddle, waiting for another bellow of magic. His bad leg cramped up painfully, trying to make up for muscles that weren¡¯t there anymore as his whole body awaited the next magical bellow.


    It didn¡¯t come.


    Breathe in, slowly. Exhale. Count to three. Breathe in. His hands slowly unclenched around the saddle horn, until he could rub his thigh. He glanced up, looked around. The strange horse snorted and danced nervously under him. The werewolves were still where he had first seen them.


    Had the kid told them he wasn¡¯t after them? But Greg had said it took months, even years, for a werewolf to learn to communicate in their other body.


    So what were they waiting for? If they had wanted to attack him, they could have done that already.


    Nothing for it but to ask.


    By the time he managed to regain control over his mount, catch the one he¡¯d been leading, and whistle to Bairn to come back to his side, the werewolves had formed a line. There were ten of them standing shoulder to shoulder, one gangly cub in their midst, and a final one standing a few steps in front of them. All of them stared at him warily as he prompted the horses towards them, but they didn¡¯t move and he didn¡¯t reach for his crossbow. If this pack wanted him dead, he didn¡¯t have a chance in hell anyway.


    The lead wolf took another step forwards, into a patch of light. It looked much like the others, brown and grey, a lighter shade at the belly and darker at the back. Still, there was something about it¡ªthem, Nathan reminded himself¡ªsomething familiar?


    Wait a second.


    ¡°Lee? Is that you?¡±

 Chapter 139

    The werewolf nodded, exaggerating the motion as if he were unsure Nathan would recognize it. When he grinned, Nathan thought the werewolf was just as relieved as he was.


    ¡°Five frozen hells,¡± Nathan sighed, swinging out of the saddle. ¡°Lee, man, I could hug you right now.¡±


    Lee teetered a step backwards, stiff-legged and shaking himself, tongue lolling out of his mouth.


    ¡°Did you eat a clown on your way? I know what I look like. You going to turn human so we can talk, or are we going to do the whole mime thing?¡±


    Lee wagged his tail, but didn¡¯t turn.


    Nathan leaned heavily onto his spear. ¡°Suit yourself. How¡¯s the girl?¡±


    A full body shrug.


    ¡°Right.¡± Nathan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His bad leg hurt, and he really, really wanted a break. ¡°Where did you mean to take your new friends? Eoforwic? Deva?¡±


    Neither one got a clear response, so he tried: ¡°Did you have a plan yet?¡±


    Lee looked over his shoulders, then shook his head.


    ¡°I see. Morgulon and the cubs are in Deva, Pierre and his pack are at Windish, right outside. If you do go to Eoforwic, I reckon they¡¯ll ship you down there, anyway. We only have a token staff at Brines right now,¡± he added. ¡°Laurent is there, though, so if you want to test the waters, it¡¯s not a bad call.¡±


    Lee looked over his shoulder again, then stepped forwards far enough to poke his nose into Nathan¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Sorry? Oh, what about me?¡±


    Lee and several of the new werewolves nodded.


    ¡°Ah yes. I need to figure that out myself. I was sent out here to deal with a spreader which may or may not exist but I¡¯m pretty sure isn¡¯t standing between your lot right now. I got Big Bart and Little Roy hanging around in the area, so I need to keep them out of trouble, and I need to sort out a village that may or may not have murdered a man in cold blood when he protected a newly bitten werewolf.¡±


    And now he also had to deal with a pack of nine werewolves unaccustomed to civilization.


    Those should probably take priority, right? Couldn¡¯t risk letting them walk into Deeshire¡¯s more conservative quarters unguarded?


    But he still didn¡¯t know who had bitten the girl, and having a spreader roam the area unchallenged probably wouldn¡¯t look good in the papers, either?


    ¡°You don¡¯t happen to know if there really is a spreader around, do you?¡± he tried.


    All he got in answer were a lot of shaking heads.


    ¡°Well, it was worth a try.¡±


    Spreader first or pack first? Or go to the village first, sort out a bunch of murderers?


    And how many of the attackers had the girl bitten?


    His head and leg ached. Maybe rest first was the way to go?


    The werewolves looked at him expectantly, and the only thing he knew for sure was that he was tired and hungry.


    What would David want him to do if he were here? Probably rest first. The last thing you wanted was to fall asleep in the saddle in a forest infested with werewolves. Even if they were nice werewolves, what would that look like?


    And afterwards¡­


    He turned to Bairn, and began to take the saddle off, which surprised Lee so much he staggered into his human form. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m taking a nap. I bet the girl is tired, too. The hunters who were after her have really shitty provisions, but if you want some of it, be my guest.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to take a nap. Right here. Right now.¡±


    Nathan shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve been up all night, cut me some slack. Want me to make a fire first?¡±


    Lee looked over his shoulder, nodded. ¡°We¡¯ve got some meat,¡± he said. ¡°A fire would be good. You got any spare clothes?¡±


    ¡°I dropped all my stuff in a field back that aways,¡± Nathan replied. ¡°Haven¡¯t searched all the saddle bags of the other horses yet.¡±


    Lee turned around once more, probably to confer with the rest of the group. Some of the werewolves retreated when Nathan produced a lighter and cinder for the fire. They came back before he had even started building the fire in earnest, and there was a tension in the air, a current, something he couldn¡¯t quite name, as the werewolves transformed around him all at once. They searched the saddles and found clothes enough to get everyone¡¯s unmentionables covered, the girl almost vanishing in a white men¡¯s shirt.


    Only Lee turned wolf again.


    Nathan blinked after him as the lone wolf loped off in what looked like a hurry. ¡°Where¡¯s he going?¡±


    He didn¡¯t really expect an answer, so he jumped when an older man settled down at the wood he had piled up. Somewhere in his later fifties, Nathan guessed, maybe early sixties. He couldn¡¯t tell if the stranger¡¯s hair was turning naturally grey or if that was due to him being a werewolf. His eyes were large and animal-shaped, with no white showing.


    ¡°Getting your stuff, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s awfully kind of him.¡±


    ¡°Your horse is hurt.¡±


    ¡°Yes. One of the bastards that was after the girl shot him. She¡¯s all right, yes? She was screaming when I got there.¡±


    The older man nodded slowly. ¡°Probably had some fun with her before killing her. Nothing silver, though. Monroe¡¯s the name.¡±


    ¡°Nathan Feleke.¡±


    ¡°Related to the two Feleke brothers?¡±


    Nathan paused. ¡°The two¡­ Who? No wait. Sun, I¡¯m tired. You¡¯re talking about Bram and Gregory Feleke, right? Bram¡¯s my father. Damn, you¡¯ve been a werewolf for a long time if you remember uncle Gregory. He¡¯s been dead for, oh, twenty years now.¡±


    ¡°They had just taken over the family business when I got bitten.¡±


    Nathan paused, struggling with the maths. ¡°Uh. Thirty-six years? Round about?¡±


    The elder shrugged. ¡°Sounds about right. Didn¡¯t really keep track of the years.¡±


    ¡°Thirty-six years in summer,¡± a new voice said. A woman settled down next to Monroe. She was tiny, slender, probably of a similar age as he. Her skin was only a little bit lighter than Nathan''s own.


    ¡°Malinda,¡± she said. ¡°Thirty-five this summer. Took him a year to come back to me.¡±


    ¡°My wife,¡± Monroe added. ¡°I bit her.¡±


    ¡°I asked him to.¡±


    Nathan had to remind himself to close his mouth. Now this, this, the papers would love. Talk about a romance for the ages.


    ¡°Is this your pack? Family?¡±


    The two of them shook their heads. ¡°It was just us,¡± she replied.


    ¡°I was a hunter,¡± Monroe added. ¡°In this area, actually. Nothing like your family, but I had managed to make a bit of a name for myself. Packs in the forest didn¡¯t receive me too warmly.¡±


    ¡°So we went far, far north.¡±


    ¡°Morgulon came to find you?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°In the middle of a snowstorm, six years ago,¡± Malina replied. ¡°I hear that¡¯s late.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t speak to that,¡± Nathan yawned. ¡°Glad Lee could drag you back. We can certainly use the help.¡±


    He finally got his fire going. When the flames licked at the tip of his wood pile, Monroe and Malinda shifted uncomfortably. But they apparently had one last question.


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    ¡°Lee says Morgulon had children?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Five cubs.¡± Nathan couldn¡¯t stop himself from adding: ¡°From at least two fathers.¡±


    Malinda sighed. ¡°Any chance we¡¯ll get to see them?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t see why you wouldn¡¯t, though.¡± He yawned again. ¡°Bet you¡¯re gonna end up at Deva sooner rather than later anyways.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you the one taking us there?¡±


    Nathan rubbed his eyes. ¡°Do I look to you like I¡¯m in charge of making the important decisions? Like, yeah, I might end up taking you to wherever you end up going. Not my call, though. If I were the one making decisions, we¡¯d all retreat across the Argentum Formation, drop a body into every river, let the Rot-queens sort the loyalists out.¡±


    His yaws cracked in another yawn. ¡°Fire¡¯s ready, guys. Don¡¯t let it go out, I¡¯m going to sleep. Somebody wake me at noon.¡±


    The werewolves stared and whispered as he checked on Bairn¡¯s injury¡ªnot that he could do anything for the stallion¡ªand made sure that the new horses were tied up so they could graze, before resting his head on the saddle in the grass.


    Nathan didn¡¯t hear what they said. As soon as his eyes closed, he was asleep.


    ***


    The pack was still around when hunger woke Nathan right around noon. That was nice. He had been a bit worried, but he had hoped that having a hunter go to sleep right in their middle would be novel enough to make them stick around.


    Even better, they were kind enough to share some of their meat around. It was a bit burned in places, and lacked seasoning. Lee grumbled a bit about running into the only Feleke who didn¡¯t bring salt on hunts¡ªwhich was news to Nathan. He had thought Andrew was the only one who did that.


    He should have brought Andrew. At least then they could have split the blame of him running after the girl on his own.


    He still didn¡¯t know her name.


    Lee crouched in front of him as he had some cold lunch. ¡°You figure out yet what¡¯s going to happen next?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Nathan said, relishing the word a little. ¡°So my suggestion is you all come with me to the building site of the railway.¡±


    Lee frowned. ¡°Which railway?¡±


    ¡°The new  line north from Deeshire. Where they have a telegraph link in case of trouble.¡±


    ¡°And then we do what?¡±


    ¡°We make it David¡¯s problem. Dump the whole situation on his desk, and wait for him to decide where he wants each of us.¡±


    Lee nodded slowly. ¡°I bet you¡¯re his favourite brother.¡±


    ¡°I absolutely am.¡±


    Right until David learned that he had ditched the circus act. But that was a problem future-him would have to deal with.


    Some of the werewolves dithered at the idea of contacting ¡°the Relentless¡± directly, but Monroe and Malinda were unbothered. They had to have lived really isolated. Either that or they were just really good actors.


    Nathan didn¡¯t think so.


    Before they got moving, he checked on Bairn again. The wound was hot and a bit swollen, but the stallion didn¡¯t seem feverish yet. Maybe he could find a healer in Deeshire? With the army, perhaps? Or maybe the werewolves could take him to Deva?


    He¡¯d have to message David about that, too.


    ***


    The work on the railway had progressed a few miles farther than the line was running. With an injured horse and a child in their group, they still didn¡¯t get there before midmorning the next day. The girl¡ªRosie¡ªrode the last few miles on the other horse Nathan had taken from the dead hunters.


    Maybe he should have ridden ahead: the men working on this side-line weren¡¯t real navvies, nothing like the hardened men working along the Savre. They didn¡¯t even have a werewolf protecting their crew, and there was a moment of wild panic as the large pack broke out of the trees.


    Once Nathan had made himself heard over the commotion, they were all too glad to let him use their telegraph¡ªeverything that got them all out of their neat little camp.


    Not that Nathan and the pack were moving anywhere fast. First Nathan had to come up with the most succinct way of summarising what had occured and his options going forwards, then the operator had to send that, and finally, they needed to wait for an answer. Barring some emergency at the palace, Nathan was fairly certain that David would receive the message within a few minutes of him sending it. How long it would take his brother to come to a decision¡­ Well, they¡¯d see.


    Not long at all, as it turned out. And they were good orders, too. Short and simple.


    ¡°Escort werewolves to Cpt Fletcher afap STOP


    Continue spreader investigation STOP


    Fletcher and watch to deal with village STOP¡±


    ¡°This is why you¡¯re the boss,¡± Nathan muttered to himself. It honestly hadn¡¯t occurred to him that it needn¡¯t be him who dealt with the whole mess of the murderous villagers.


    Probably shouldn¡¯t be him, in fact.


    ¡°All right, gang, Deeshire it is.¡±


    ¡°Deeshire, really?¡± Lee asked. ¡°Aren¡¯t they a bit, you know¡­?¡±


    ¡°Backwards? Hidebound? Inquisitorial ass-kissing?¡±


    Lee grimaced, and looked around at the workers. Too late, Nathan remembered that a lot of them probably were from Deeshire.


    Ah well. What were they going to do, attack a pack of ten werewolves with their shovels?


    ¡°There¡¯s a large recruitment office of the army in Deeshire,¡± Nathan explained for the werewolves. ¡°Currently attached to that office is a Captain Fletcher. I think you might have met him at Oldstone Castle, Lee. He¡¯s been in charge of the werewolf recruitment this side of the Savre ever since the battle. I¡¯ll take you there, and then he¡¯ll have orders where you¡¯re all supposed to go. It¡¯ll still come down to Eoforwic or Deva, and he¡¯ll make sure you all get there safely.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t be coming?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯ll take another stab at figuring out if there is¡ªor was¡ªa spreader in the area. From what Rosie told me, we can¡¯t disregard the possibility.¡±


    She had been bitten nearly exactly a month ago, right before half moon, while out late playing with a friend. It was unusual for a spreader to bite one girl and not the other, but not unheard off. And the werewolf had vanished into the dusk.


    The main thing that concerned Nathan was that Rosie hadn¡¯t heard of any further attacks in the area recently. Nothing had happened until Rosie had tried to defend her grandparents. That bit was damn weird.


    Unless there were more unsanctioned hunters in the area? Unless the villages had hushed up a spreader so they wouldn¡¯t need to bother with a crown warrant?


    What a bloody foolish risk to take though.


    Well, he¡¯d find out.


    ¡°What about the village?¡± Lee asked. Rosie¡¯s story hadn¡¯t been well-received.


    ¡°Captain Fletcher and the watch get to deal with that. I guess they might need your testimony, Rosie. They might need you to tell them what happened,¡± he added, since she looked at him blankly.


    She didn¡¯t look thrilled. ¡°Told you,¡± she pointed out.


    ¡°Yes, and¡ª¡± He tried to scrape together his half-remembered lessons. He had hated all that legal crap. ¡°It might be enough,¡± he caved. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Just, don¡¯t be surprised if they ask you again.¡±


    The workers were still eying the pack warily. The werewolves were expectantly looking up at Nathan, which was disconcerting in a very different way. He didn¡¯t want to be in charge of these many people.


    ¡°David wrote that we should get moving as fast as possible,¡± he told them. ¡°So I¡¯d say we walk for another hour, have lunch, and hopefully we¡¯ll catch a train to Deeshire in the afternoon?¡±


    Nobody protested, so he took point, out of the little camp, along the route the workers had cleared. Nathan thought some of the werewolves looked uneasy at the destruction of the forest all around, but they did follow him. Followed him all the way to the end of the working line and the platform there. The few travellers waiting there screamed at the sight of the pack, and most ran away.


    ¡°Ignore them,¡± Nathan said. ¡°More room on the train for us.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure glad you aren¡¯t in charge of public relations,¡± Lee teased.


    Nathan laughed. ¡°Nobody in my family is that crazy. Hells, Duke Stuard isn¡¯t that crazy. And let me tell you, he¡¯s plenty crazy.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t we all supposed to be working for him?¡±


    ¡°Nah, we¡¯re the lucky few. You and I and the rest of the werewolves are working for David, and he gets the unenviable job of filtering the crazy for us. Which is why you lot aren¡¯t being recruited for a battalion of werewolf cavalry, wielding guns with silver bayonetts, or whatever it was the duke imagined.¡±


    Was he allowed to say this? But he didn¡¯t really care right now. He was standing still again, and he hated that. He wanted to be moving.


    ¡°You¡¯re joking, aren¡¯t you?¡± Lee asked.


    ¡°Nope. Werewolf cavalry, armed with silver. I guess the duke thought you wouldn¡¯t be able to fight properly without a rider, or something. David shot the idea down, so don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re allowed to talk about that?¡± Lee asked.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I? That¡¯s what the duke hired David for, after all. As an expert in werewolves.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think the duke will mind?¡±


    Nathan considered that. The werewolves looked concerned at him. Maybe he had taken this conversation in the wrong direction. He¡¯d tried to diffuse their fears of ¡°the Relentless,¡± but giving them new nightmares wouldn¡¯t help.


    ¡°You mean will he mind that I called him crazy?¡± Nathan asked after a moment. ¡°What else would I call a man brave enough to challenge the Empire? He might¡¯ve even made a decent hunter.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll appreciate that compliment,¡± Lee said dryly.


    Nathan restlessly stepped from one foot onto the other. He wanted a bed. A proper bath. To take off the peg leg and treat the skin to some of the doctor¡¯s ointments. Or failing all that, he wanted to be back in the forest. With Bairn healthy and hale, not a borrowed horse he had known for all of two days, with the bloody circus act as his only backup. Chasing a spreader. Or possibly something even worse.


    A spreader didn¡¯t often bite one girl and leave the other one unmolested. And a spreader never ever just vanished into the woods¡ªwest of Northwold, maybe. Out in the mountains. But not here, not where there were so many other villages around. They weren¡¯t that smart, and that wasn¡¯t what they did.


    He sat down on the bricks forming the plattform. They needed to have seating at these things. Maybe some shade. Like the big stations did. A store would be nice. His water bottle was empty again.


    Hopefully, Captain Fletcher would have more provisions for him at Deeshire. Otherwise, he¡¯d have to waste time buying stuff.


    Finally, the train arrived. The werewolves were nervous about entering, and Lee asked about tickets. Nathan shrugged. ¡°The army will take care of it.¡±


    He hoped so, at least. He hadn¡¯t really considered that issue.


    One especially brave conductor walked up to the cattle wagon the werewolves had climbed into, demanding they buy tickets. Nathan showed him the telegram David had sent instead. Apparently, that sufficed to let them ride for free, though the conductor returned at Deeshire, as if worried they wouldn¡¯t get off the train. Or maybe to quench the rising panic? Not everyone reacted well to the werewolves disembarking.


    Once again, Captain Fletcher was waiting for them. With great foresight, the officer had brought the manpower to both clear a path for the werewolves and make sure nobody fell into the tracks or got trampled. As Fletcher greeted Lee, a Corporal dealt with the conductor and their fares. And yes, they had more supplies for Nathan. They took Bairn of his hands, too.


    Suddenly, all he had to do was settle down in one of the comfortable seats in front of the little caf¨¦ that belonged to the station, and wait for the train that would take him back north. His replacement horse¡ªthe fitter gelding of the hunters he had killed¡ªwas waiting in a rented box with fresh water and oats. Nathan instead had tea¡ªlike every other place in Loegrion, the caf¨¦ didn¡¯t sell any actual coffee. He flipped through the pages of the folder Fletcher had provided, but there was nothing in there that told him what he was getting into.


    He let his head fall back and napped a little.

 Chapter 140

    Greg watched as the palace servants set up the tables both for sitting at and the buffet on the terrace. A couple of canopies had already been hung above. He nervously tugged at his sleeves, praying to whichever god would listen that he had thought of everything. David was already on his way to pick up Pierre and pack, it was too late to back out now.


    His whole family would be there, both sides¡ªwell, everyone except for Nathan, who was still stuck someplace outside of Deeshire. Bram, Andrew, and David would be there as ¡°security¡± to put Duke George Louis¡¯s mind at ease, supported by Lane, Ronon and Lafayette. Imani had been going over the outfits she had picked out for his daughters when Greg had left the house. Their brothers had turned wolf at noon, as soon as the half moon rose, they¡¯d come with Morgulon, too. And then there¡¯d be Pierre¡¯s pack, and if the rumour mill was anything to go by, every noble in residence at the palace, Deva, or within three days of travel.


    ¡°The event of the month, possibly the season,¡± Duke George Louis voiced what Greg had been worrying about. He kept just out of arm¡¯s reach and emanated the cold of a lot of silver. ¡°Feeling prepared?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± Greg lied. ¡°Duke Desmarais kindly helped with wrangling the kitchens, so we¡¯ll have good food at the very least. The rest should fall into place.¡±


    George Louis managed not to glare at him, but Greg thought it was a close thing. ¡°How very kind of him. I hope your brother knows my door is always open?¡±


    Greg folded his hands behind his back and had the slim satisfaction of seeing the duke twitch at the movement. ¡°I¡¯m sure David is aware. He wasn¡¯t involved in planning this event, though, and I didn¡¯t feel the same offer extended to me.¡±


    This time, the duke was ready, smiling at him with just the right mix of bafflement, disbelief, and insult. ¡°I have no idea how you would come to that conclusion. I hope it wasn¡¯t something I did or said.¡±


    The night you made me sit in a stinking cell was a bit of a hint, were the words Greg was really tempted to say. The silver you carry is another.


    What had the man done? Padded his vest with coins? Silver coated chainmail? How much did that cost? Either way, it must have been done by an expert tailor, it didn¡¯t detract from the fit of his clothes at all.


    The silence stretched between them and that servant had been polishing the same table ever since the duke had stepped outside. And George Louis was clearly waiting for a reaction.


    ¡°I feel it¡¯s generally safer for me not to assume hospitality from higher born nobles or go where I haven¡¯t been invited,¡± Greg finally said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to upset someone.¡±


    He hated himself a little for that, for wasting his breath on giving the duke yet another way out of a sticky place where he had firmly put his own backside. But he still needed to deal with the man, somehow, fear and silver and everything else.


    Could he get burned by the cold across the distance? It certainly felt like he might.


    Still, he didn¡¯t move.


    Your turn, George Louis. What¡¯s it going to be? Extend me an invitation? Pretend I didn¡¯t say anything? Give me some excuse?


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s a rather wise move given that we still haven¡¯t caught the people attempting to kill our werewolves,¡± George Louis said.


    Greg was tempted to call him a coward for that nothing-answer. ¡°Thank you, Your Highness,¡± he said instead, as artificially genuine as he could manage. ¡°I¡¯m glad you approve.¡±


    Which had the beauty of not being an insult while meaning almost the same thing to the experienced spy.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m going to leave you to your preparations,¡± George Louis said. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to seeing the results.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness,¡± Greg repeated, and as the duke turned away, he couldn¡¯t stop himself from adding: ¡°If I may be so bold, nobody will be expected to pay for their food. You won¡¯t need to bring so much silver.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Though I don¡¯t suppose I will have to worry about pickpockets, either, will I?¡±


    ¡°No, Your Highness, you won¡¯t,¡± Greg admitted, hoping that his grimace would pass for a smile.


    Look at us, the werewolf and the duke sharing a joke.


    He stared after George Louis as he walked away before turning back to the working servants. They had finished putting the table linens on, and were now placing the flowers that would go in the centre of the buffet. He hoped that Pierre would appreciate it. Annabelle probably would.


    Desmarais had helped with that, too. Their budget hadn¡¯t improved yet. It was annoying, but Greg didn¡¯t think it would be worth raising the issue until they had drummed up some more support.


    Which of course was why he was standing out here, watching the servants. In an hour he¡¯d get into his brand new best suit and attempt to gladhand Loegrion¡¯s remaining nobility while also trying to reassure Pierre and his pack and giving Annabelle her promised moment with her son. With George Louis and his damned silver lined suit standing next to him.


    He was almost done getting changed when he heard someone knock on the door to the main office. A moment later, Grooch poked his head in: ¡°A message from Duke Stuard.¡±


    It was a sealed envelope. Addressed to ¡°the werewolf.¡± Inside, there was only a slip of paper.


    After seeing the preparations, it is my belief that tonight¡¯s entertainment will be enough to satisfy my son¡¯s curiosity. I do not wish to add any further risk to the event. Please inform the werewolf upon its arrival.


    The short missive crumpled in Greg¡¯s grip as he swallowed about a hundred curses. That damned coward! That was the whole point, to give Annabelle a chance to meet her son! Uninterrupted, not in the middle of a crowd of people!


    Greg was quite positive that it would not satisfy George to talk to just any werewolf. Not after being promised¡ª


    He stared down at the few lines of text. Would young George even want to attend under these circumstances? Or was the duke planning on him just forgetting about his promise? Worse, was he counting on the prince¡¯s good manners to stop him from throwing a tantrum in front of the guests? He didn¡¯t expect Greg to frame himself as the ¡°bad guy¡± who didn¡¯t plan out the event?


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    Or maybe the duke really did expect that of him.


    Arsehole.


    And no way. If George Louis wanted to cancel on his son, he could damn well do so himself. All the preparations were done. If the prince did show up to the party¡­


    George Louis would kill him, wouldn¡¯t he, if he snuck young George and Annabelle out, all on their own?


    This was ridiculous, though. What was he supposed to tell Annabelle? The other werewolves? This was jeopardising all the work David had done in the past few months. All because the damn coward had cold feet at the last moment.


    It really was the last moment. There wasn¡¯t even time to talk about this. He needed to get going.


    ¡°Trouble?¡± Mr. Grooch asked as Greg walked into the main office.


    ¡°You could say so.¡±


    ¡°Anything I can help with?¡±


    Greg chuckled darkly, offering the short note. ¡°Duke Stuard is trying to go back on his word. Unless you can make him see sense¡­ I might need someone to bail me out tomorrow.¡±


    Grooch took the paper, his frown deepening as he read. ¡°I shall prepare a missive to Duke Desmarais regarding the situation, just in case,¡± he promised. ¡°I take it you are not going to follow this order?¡±


    ¡°I might not,¡± Greg said.


    If the prince didn¡¯t show up at all, he would have to. But otherwise? No. No, he wasn¡¯t going to follow this order.


    He left Grooch behind and hurried down the stairs, taking his position on the terrace, heart and thoughts racing. The guests were arriving, and he made an effort to unclench his fists.


    Smile.


    The prince beamed at him, walking at his father¡¯s hand. No sign that he knew that George Louis was trying to back out of his word.


    The sight made the fury in Greg¡¯s veins boil over. Screw the duke and his stupid fears. He could still do this. He just needed to get the timing right. And hope that George Louis didn¡¯t have him arrested.


    He really wished he had a god to pray to.


    He did get to watch Thoko saunter down the steps of the terrace in a flowing new dress just as the sun was setting over the park, and there was divinity right there, in the way she carried herself, head held high, a smile on her face as she met his eyes. The white fabric danced around her wrists, flattering her dark skin.


    The sight distracted him so much, he missed Morgulon¡¯s arrival until Thoko joined her. Lane and Imani hadn¡¯t bothered taking her through the palace. Instead, they slunk out from between the hedges and flowerbeds of the park.


    Greg did not miss Pierre¡¯s arrival a moment later. The elder¡¯s presence nearly knocked him off his feet. Then Morgulon barked, and he stumbled again as Pierre¡¯s influence abruptly cut off. The downside was that they were now surrounded by a lot of half-panicked nobles.


    ¡°Ladies and Gentlemen, please. Countenance.¡±


    David¡¯s call cut through the gaggle of voices. He sounded wearied, even bored, and Greg wasn¡¯t sure if that was natural or deliberate, or if David had aimed for something else entirely and missed. In any case, it worked quite well: people calmed down quickly. Nobody wanted to be seen as a sissy, not while the expert on the matter was so clearly unimpressed.


    ¡°Thank you. Since I have your attention, I believe some introductions are in order.¡±


    David turned to Desmarais, sweeping a bow. ¡°Duke Desmarais, Your Highness, first of all, allow me to thank you for permitting us to stage this little party here tonight, and for your continuing support in the fight against the Rot. Your presence at this humble soiree is an honour.¡±


    Greg thought he almost stumbled over the word ¡°humble.¡±


    Duke Desmarais waved at the congregation with a grandfatherly smile. ¡°It was the least I could do, Lord Feleke.¡±


    David inclined his head, then turned to the other duke. Greg thought his brother was trying to suppress an eye roll or maybe an embarrassed smile as he did, but he could see how someone might get the impression that David wanted to strangle him. His bow was much stiffer than before.


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± he said. ¡°Prince George. I welcome you both in the name of my family and the werewolves gathered here.¡±


    Without waiting for a reaction, he turned and stepped over to where Morgulon stood between Lane and Imani, the children in a padded basket at her feet.


    ¡°Your Highnesses, esteemed peers, ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you the Morgulon, whose efforts we owe our victory at Oldstone Castle to. Her children¡ªthe first werewolves born in Loegrion in a generation¡ªtook their first breaths during that very battle. Morgulon herself was born a werewolf and will not turn human tonight. Please, don¡¯t let that stop you from asking questions. Other werewolves can translate.¡±


    Morgulon didn¡¯t look exactly eager, Greg thought. She largely ignored the crowd staring at her, so David turned back towards the terrace.


    ¡°May I further introduce Pierre deChamps, former priest of Mithras,¡± he continued. ¡°Pierre, thank you for agreeing to join us tonight.¡±


    Pierre did take a little bow, his hands folded like a priest¡¯s at the altar. ¡°We thank you for the invitation,¡± the elder said.


    David proceeded to introduce the other werewolves who had come from Windish, before adding: ¡°Together with the navvies stationed there, they recently fought two Rot-queens at the Savre Railway Camp.


    Finally, I would like to introduce my brother, the Honourable Gregory Feleke, who not only travelled to the Argentum Formation twice to drum up support in the fight against the Roi Solei, but also kindly volunteered to organise this little get-together.¡±


    Greg felt the heat creep up in his face when there was a smattering of polite applause. He bowed as well while some of the others waved. He should have been more prepared for this. He had written the bloody introductions, after all. David had rolled his eyes at him and complained about his lack of trust, and he could have been a little more energetic in rattling off the text. On the other hand, given what Desmarais had said about his court appearances, people probably expected the stiffness.


    David turned around, arms spread. ¡°Your Highnesses, Ladies and Gentlemen, be welcome. I hope you will all enjoy this opportunity to speak to our newest allies. I am here tonight to personally guarantee that there is no danger coming from our werewolves guests, nothing to fear. I do hope you will be able to quench your curiosity and that all your questions will be answered to your full satisfaction.¡±


    He bowed one final time, and then there was applause. Greg shuddered and couldn¡¯t tell if that was caused by his own emotions or someone else¡¯s.


    ¡°I notice he didn¡¯t say that he¡¯ll guarantee our security,¡± Pierre grumbled.


    Greg ducked his head, embarrassed. ¡°Should I have put that in there?¡±


    ¡°You wrote that speech?¡±


    ¡°Mostly. I didn¡¯t plan for Morgulon¡¯s barking, so he sort of improvised the beginning. He forgot a line addressing Duke Stuard, too. Or maybe he left it out on purpose.¡±


    Greg sighed inwardly and straightened up as Andrew approached them. The Marques of Southshire followed him, accompanied by his daughter. Time to dance. After all, that was why they were all here.


    ¡°Lord de Burg. Milady. I hope you are enjoying yourself.¡±


    He was glad to see that Pierre followed his example and bowed.


    ¡°It¡¯s a most remarkable gathering,¡± de Burg said. ¡°I am given to understand that these many werewolves in one place are highly unusual.¡±


    ¡°Uncommon, yes. But less unusual than most people think,¡± Greg replied.


    He let Pierre talk about his pack, and how there used to be ten of them before Greg had disrupted their group. How his wasn¡¯t even the largest pack out there.


    More nobles wandered closer, people whom Greg recognized and people he didn¡¯t know. Sticking to the werewolves who had a hunter with them, a minder. Ironically, that meant that Morgulon and Lane were right in the thick of it.


    Greg left Pierre with Andrew and swung by the buffet before checking in on them. R¨¦my was happily playing translator. Imani and Thoko each held one of his daughters. Greg ran a hand over their foreheads, more to reassure himself that all was well than them, and went to find Annabelle.


    She was watching her parents. In her wolf shape, but close enough to listen in on them. They were both tightlipped and didn¡¯t look in Annabelle¡¯s direction. It felt deliberate to Greg, the way they ignored the huge she-wolf standing just a few yards away.


    Greg took a deep breath, pushing down his doubts.


    ¡°Give me an hour?¡± he said softly. ¡°Maybe a little longer to make nice? Then I¡¯ll see if I can pry the prince away from his admirers.¡±


    Annabelle nodded, eyes fixed on her mother.

 Chapter 141

    Prince George stood with his father and David in a ring of the many nobles who were either too fearful to approach a werewolf directly, or preferred to use the opportunity to jockey for the future king¡¯s attention. Or possibly the favour of his right hand man. David had that strained look on his face again and he kept glancing over in Lane¡¯s direction.


    Or maybe the latter was just because of the young woman who was hanging onto his arm, leaning in to accentuate her ample decollete.


    David¡¯s eyes were firmly fixed on her face.


    ¡°Berenice!¡± Greg interrupted her cheerfully. ¡°Or should I say Lady Pettau? It¡¯s so good to see you again, it¡¯s been such a long time. I do hope you¡¯re enjoying yourself?¡±


    She turned around to him, surprise and shock and fear flashing across her face so fast he only spotted it because he had expected it. A heartbeat later, she batted her eyelashes at him. ¡°Gregory! I feel marvellous, thank you so much! I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯re alright! This is all so exciting!¡±


    ¡°Care to join me?¡± Greg said, offering her his arm with a flourish.


    Berenice glanced up at David. ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t want to be a bother,¡± she claimed. ¡°I¡¯m sure everyone wants to meet you tonight!¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡± Greg pretended to hesitate: ¡°Perhaps you could re-introduce me? It¡¯s slightly embarrassing, but many of the young lords seem afraid to speak to me without a chaperone. You don¡¯t seem scared at all.¡±


    He did not look in the duke¡¯s direction as he said that, even though he really wanted to. Just as he worried that Berenice would disappoint him, she chuckled and accepted his proffered arm.


    ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    Not quite where he had planned to start, but the fleeting look of utter relief on David¡¯s face was worth it.


    ¡°I hope your family is well?¡±


    ¡°Thank you for asking, yes, they¡¯re quite well,¡± Berenice said. ¡°My brother is at the siege, leading a regiment, it¡¯s very scary, but we get regular telegrams, so that helps a lot. I don¡¯t even want to think about how horrible it would be if we¡¯d have to wait a week for every letter.¡±


    Greg nodded sympathetically, when she blurted out:


    ¡°Say, are you really a werewolf?¡±


    She blushed when Greg raised his eyebrows at her, nestling with her fan. ¡°I¡¯m not doubting your brother¡¯s word, I¡¯m not,¡± she hurried to add. ¡°It¡¯s just so hard to imagine, seeing you here, looking like, you know, you.¡±


    ¡°I really am,¡± he said. ¡°If you had some silver on you, I could show you.¡±


    He paused, looking her up and down. ¡°But you don¡¯t. Huh. I think that makes you the only person here who isn¡¯t wearing at least a sun-amulett at their neck.¡±


    Berenice touched her throat, framed by artfully styled brown curls. She did wear a delicate gold chain with a single ruby pendant. Not magical, as far as Greg could tell.


    ¡°It seemed rude,¡± she said. ¡°To bring silver here, of all places. And it¡¯s not like there¡¯s any danger, is it?¡±


    ¡°I thank you for your forbearance,¡± Greg said. ¡°No, there is no danger. Nobody else seems to trust in my brother¡¯s word quite as much, unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°How can you tell?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like a flame,¡± Greg explained. ¡°A sort of radiance, only a cold one. As if everyone carried buckets of ice around. Only, I¡¯ve never touched ice as cold as silver.¡±


    He pulled his sleeve up an inch to show her the goosebumps on his arm.


    ¡°I¡¯m very sorry. Now I¡¯m doubly glad I didn¡¯t bring any.¡±


    ¡°We were all aware that this would be happening,¡± Greg said, pulling the sleeve down again. ¡°Would you like to meet my fianc¨¦e?¡±


    ¡°Your¡ªoh, who is she? Is she a werewolf, too?¡±


    Greg winked at Thoko as he led Berenice over, straight into the arms of Lane and his mother. Perhaps that would stop her in the future from leaning quite as heavily onto David. And if she suspected he had put her into that situation on purpose, well, she had been excited to meet Thoko.


    He glanced at Thoko, to see if she wanted to walk with him, but she seemed quite happy to stay with Morgulon and the babies. So Greg moved over to the buffet on his own.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure the Lady Pettau was just dying to meet your brother¡¯s fiance¨¦,¡± Gustave commented, materialising next to Greg at the canapes.


    ¡°It looked like she was interested, didn¡¯t it?¡± Greg agreed. ¡°How¡¯s your mother?¡±


    ¡°Shocked,¡± Gustave shrugged. ¡°Also, livid.¡±


    ¡°At whom?¡±


    ¡°At me. For not telling her about you earlier. Also, for going out with you even though I knew. Oh¡ª¡±


    Greg spun around when he felt a wave of silver bearing down on him.


    ¡°Hello, mother,¡± Gustave sighed.


    ¡°Lady deBire,¡± Greg said with a bow, before she could say anything, giving her his best smile. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you are doing well. Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps someone I could introduce you to?¡±


    It slowed her down, like it so often did. Smile brightly and speak in a cheerful voice, forming complete sentences, and people couldn¡¯t reconcile the picture of a werewolf they had in their head with the person standing right in front of them.


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    ¡°You,¡± she started, but it sounded weak. ¡°You¡¯re a werewolf?¡±


    ¡°If you give me one of the coins you¡¯re carrying, I¡¯ll be happy to prove it,¡± Greg replied. ¡°Or perhaps the magic amulet in your pocket?¡±


    ¡°How do you know what¡¯s in my pockets?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just a little party trick,¡± Greg said, keeping the smile in his voice. ¡°We can sense both silver and magic, it wasn¡¯t hard to figure out. Mind you, I¡¯m not very good at it. Pierre could probably tell you what the magic is for, too.¡±


    He looked around. ¡°Pierre deChamps, I should say. He¡¯s over there, talking to the Marques of Southshire, if you¡¯d like to meet him.¡±


    He smiled innocently as he watched her struggle with the decision. Meet a werewolf more powerful than him? But meeting the Marques could only benefit her.


    ¡°That would be quite welcome,¡± she finally said.


    So he led her over, introducing her as the mother of his best friend to the group. Gustave followed him around, so he made him take the lead in approaching some other young nobles they had grown up with. Once the ice had broken, he waved Gertrude over.


    It was mix and match. Find the right werewolf for each group. Make sure everyone was comfortable around each other, and move on. Make sure to check on David and George Louis and the prince. Pretend he didn¡¯t notice the way the duke stared at him. Get the timing right.


    The prince understood noblesse oblige a lot better than many of the adults, but he had been promised to not only meet a random werewolf, but also his mother, so it was understandable that there was a limit to the socialising he was willing to waste time on.


    It made Greg want to bite the duke for going back on that promise.


    However, there was a chance. If Greg could get the timing and everything else right¡­ He had all the cards he needed in hand, didn¡¯t he? If he played them right, Prince George might meet Annabelle in actual privacy, without his father interfering.


    Greg crossed his fingers at the thought.


    Just as he had anticipated, a little over an hour into the party, Lord Picot appeared with his own guests¡ªnot that there were many left. Which didn¡¯t put the Marques in the best of moods. But that was exactly as Greg had expected. Had counted on, in fact.


    He had kept an eye on the palace doors just for this moment, so that he could be the one to greet Picot.


    He bowed deeply. ¡°Welcome, Lord Picot. Please, accept my humble apology for the unfortunate timing of this event. We did push it as late as we possibly could.¡±


    The marques harrumphed in answer. ¡°You might have picked a different day altogether,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we couldn¡¯t have done that, Milord,¡± Greg said, bowing again. ¡°It was important this happens on half moon, you see, and it did not seem prudent to wait another couple of weeks, given the tight schedule.¡±


    He hoped that Picot would buy the bullshit about half-moon. It was true that George Louis wanted a big event for the press when Rust and his companions returned next week. A public celebration of the cleansing of the Stour.


    ¡°It will be good to present a victory to the public,¡± Picot allowed. ¡°I¡¯ll expect a warning next time.¡±


    ¡°I am very sorry,¡± Greg repeated. ¡°Let me walk you to my brother,¡± he added. ¡°I do believe His Highness is with him.¡±


    For a second, he thought Picot would refuse to be escorted, but then the Marques gave him a surly smile. ¡°Lead the way, Lord Feleke.¡±


    Greg went. He managed to catch Annabelle¡¯s eyes, and she prowled after him and the marques, all the way to where David, the prince and George Louis stood. He smiled at the prince, before dumping Picot on David, who fumbled through a greeting. Helpfully, George Louis inserted himself into the conversation, as Greg had hoped he would. At the same time, the prince sidled over. Greg bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning in triumph.


    ¡°Is it time?¡± young George whispered hopefully.


    Greg nodded, praying that the fuming marques would distract the duke just a few seconds longer.


    And it worked!


    They ducked out of the gathering as inconspiciously as a prince could duck out of anything. Annabelle followed at a bit of distance. It helped that David had followed the original plan and pulled the duke and the rest of the group right next to the garden hedges. They only had to walk a few steps to leave the light of the lamps, and a few more to vanish behind a row of shrubbery.


    Of course, in the original plan, David and the duke would have been there.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± the prince asked as darkness closed in around them.


    ¡°The smaller of the Sun Pavilions, my prince. I hope we¡¯ll be uninterrupted there. At the very least, it should be easier to notice any eavesdroppers.¡±


    The pavilion he had picked had only one, rather small room, and there were no service-corridors, either. As long as he circled the building, it should be impossible for anyone to sneak up on them.


    George Louis might try to kill him, of course, for stealing his son away, but he¡¯d have to take that risk. Annabelle deserved a chance to speak to him. And the prince deserved a chance to talk to his mother.


    And he didn¡¯t exactly care about the duke¡¯s feelings, either.


    ¡°We¡¯ll let her go in first,¡± Greg said once they reached the brightly lit pavilion. ¡°I¡¯ve had clothes brought out for her.¡±


    Thank you.


    Annabelle prowled inside, and Greg closed the door after her.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± the prince said as well. He looked down at his feet. ¡°You know, my father won¡¯t be happy. Your brother was supposed to be here. So that there¡¯d be a hunter. It¡¯s safe though, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m not scared,¡± he added, before Greg could say anything. ¡°Father says she¡¯s my mother. He lied to me. He said she was dead.¡±


    Greg ached for the kid, for the confusion and hurt on his young face, and decided not to tell him what else his father had tried to pull tonight.


    ¡°Annabelle is your mother,¡± he confirmed. ¡°And she has come all the way from the Argentum Formation for a chance to see you. I believe you deserve a chance to talk to her alone. And no, there is no danger here. Hopefully, your father will be less mad at me for stealing you away once you¡¯re safely back with him.¡±


    Or maybe David would have to bail him out of whatever the duke dreamed up for him. Desmarais would help, too, wouldn¡¯t he?


    ¡°If you would prefer to wait, I doubt that it¡¯ll take long for them to find us,¡± Greg added. The last thing he wanted was for the boy to feel pressured into this.


    Young George looked over his shoulder, down the way they had come, clearly thinking about it. But then he shook his head, squaring his narrow shoulders..


    ¡°He lied to me,¡± he repeated, just as Annabelle opened the door. She had put on the simple dark green dress Greg had placed for her, but forgone the shoes. Her long, black and grey and brown hair framed her face like a storm cloud. With her golden-brown wolfish eyes, she looked every bit like the werewolf from a story.


    Prince George reached for Greg¡¯s hand, staring up at her. When she offered him her hands, too, he reached for one of them, but tugged Greg along.


    So much for standing guard outside.


    Greg let himself be pulled into the pavilion, but gently freed his fingers to close the door behind them. When he turned around, Annabelle and Prince George were awkwardly looking at each other. He could see her throat working, but no sound came out.


    ¡°My prince, this is Lady Annabelle de Tury,¡± Greg said. ¡°Like for many werewolves, it¡¯s hard for her to speak sometimes. I hope you will be patient with her.¡±


    The prince bowed in reply, and Greg thought the formality of the introduction helped calm them both, so he added: ¡°Annabelle, Prince George.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± the boy said, very, very softly.


    ¡°Hello. George,¡± Annabelle finally spoke. ¡°I am glad. To see. You.¡±


    It was soft, and halting, but there were tears in her eyes, and when she reached out to him, the prince took a step forwards, and another one, and then another one, until he could sink into her arms. Greg smiled a little and ducked outside again.


    Annabelle¡¯s joy was glowing and warm like a fire behind him.

 Chapter 142

    Greg¡¯s efforts bought mother and son ten minutes at best. He hoped they made the most of the time. Standing under the pavilion''s gas lamps, he heard people coming for them before he saw them. Shoes crunching on the gravel and voices in the dark. Duke George Louis was snarling: ¡°So Mithras help me, if you¡¯re running me in circles, David, I will have you stand in front of a wall.¡±


    David¡¯s voice followed promptly. ¡°I¡¯m not running you in circles. Also, I can see Greg, so I reckon we¡¯ve found them.¡±


    The steps quickened, and Greg felt the wave of cold hit him like an avalanche as the coward approached. It made his teeth ache and his heart beat faster. The wolf growled in the back of his head and he sensed Annabelle¡¯s frustration in answer.


    ¡°I¡¯ll remember the bit about the wall, though,¡± David added, and then Greg could see the two of them, stepping out of the shadows into the halo of light around the pavilion. David was walking in front, raising his hand in a brief greeting, the duke following on his heel. George Louis¡¯s face was thrown into stark relief by the lamplight, twisted further by the snarl on his lips.


    Just what had David ever seen in that jerk?


    George Louis kept marching forwards, pointing an accusatory finger at him. For a second, Greg wondered if the duke would be brave enough to hit him. And what he¡¯d do if that happened.


    ¡°You!¡± Duke Stuard snapped at him, stopping abruptly. ¡°Werewolf! Are they in there?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡± His hands clenched into fists as he fought not to growl the title at him.


    ¡°You left my son alone with her? I swear, if she so much as upset him¡ª¡±


    ¡°Her? Upset him?¡± Greg wasn¡¯t sure if it was just his own fury coursing through his veins, or Annabelle¡¯s, too. For once, he didn¡¯t care. The duke had treated him like an animal long enough, had gone over too many bodies to accuse them¡ª


    ¡°After you lied to him for years?¡± Greg snapped. ¡°Told him she was dead? I would be worried about him if he wasn¡¯t upset after that, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°And what would you know about raising a child?¡± the duke hissed. ¡°A human child at that?¡±


    ¡°I was a human child, until a couple of years ago,¡± Greg replied. In the back of his mind the monster roared. ¡°And it seems I remember it better than you do. No child enjoys being left in the dark about their own family. Let alone being lied to about their mother¡¯s fate.¡±


    Maybe he sensed it, or maybe the anger was written so clearly onto his face. In any case, David stepped between them, interrupting them:


    ¡°And no father enjoys being lectured on how to raise his son, Greg. George Louis, I need to get back to the party, so let¡¯s get this over with. Unless you want to talk to them without me.¡±


    The duke shuddered, which Greg thought was rather ironic, given the cold radiance that still burned on his whole body.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on Annabelle talking at all,¡± he warned. ¡°I can barely stand to be this close to so much silver, and she¡¯s likely to be more sensitive.¡±


    George Louis ignored that, pushing past him for the door. Greg made no move to stop him.


    For a brief moment, he saw them sitting side by side on one of the benches, staring out through the windows into the darkness of the park. The boy was leaning into Annabelle¡¯s side and she had wrapped an arm around him. As George Louis stormed inside, his son jumped up and hugged his father, but the smile on his narrow face was tense when he dragged him over to the bench.


    ¡°Can she come home with us?¡± he asked, just as Annabelle struggled to put as much distance between herself and her erstwhile husband as possible.


    ¡°No, George. She¡¯ll return to Windish with the other werewolves.¡±


    The duke¡¯s voice didn¡¯t really allow for an argument, but the boy tried anyway. ¡°Then can we stay here a bit longer?¡±


    ¡°No, George,¡± George Louis repeated, sharper. ¡°We need to go back to the party.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t, do I? And there¡¯re so many werewolves! Nobody will notice if one is missing!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not safe for you to stay here, all on your own,¡± George Louis said. ¡°You know that. And we can¡¯t let your guards find out about this, remember? And Lord Feleke will have to return with me.¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡± Prince George pointed at Greg.


    ¡°He can¡¯t guard you,¡± George Louis snapped.


    ¡°Why not? Werewolves are dangerous, you said so! Surely, only a hunter could get past a werewolf on guard? And all the hunters are at the party, too.¡±


    ¡°No, George,¡± the duke said again. The prince pushed his lower jaw out. Greg expected a comment about how werewolves couldn¡¯t be trusted, but the duke changed tactics. ¡°He organised the whole event, George, of course he¡¯ll need to be in attendance.¡±


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    The prince¡¯s face fell. ¡°What about another werewolf? ¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, George, it¡¯s not that simple.¡±


    It surprised Greg how unwilling the duke was to just come out and straight up say he didn¡¯t trust them.


    The prince seemed to think similarly. ¡°Why not?¡± he asked, crossing his arms in front of his narrow chest. ¡°Because they¡¯re monsters?¡±


    Instead of giving an answer, George Louis glared at Greg, and then Annabelle. Finally, he turned to David, clearly expecting him to take his side.


    And after a few seconds, David let his head fall forward. He straightened again with a sigh.


    ¡°It is not just your safety that is at stake here, my prince,¡± he said. ¡°We still do not know who has been harbouring unsanctioned hunters. I would prefer not to take a gamble tonight. If these insurgents manage to hurt you or a werewolf, here, on the palace grounds¡ªor worse, manage to make it look like a werewolf hurt you¡ªwell, I¡¯m sure you can imagine the ramifications. However, with your father¡¯s permission, I would be happy to escort you to Windish, or organise another meeting at my family¡¯s home here in Deva.¡±


    So the prince turned back to his father. ¡°Promise?¡± he asked.


    ¡°We can discuss that at a later time,¡± George Louis said.


    The prince stomped his foot. ¡°Promise!¡±


    The duke once again glared at Greg, as if this was in any way his fault. When Greg glared back, George Louis turned to Annabelle, who was busy shrugging out of her clothes.


    ¡°Are you turning my son against me now?¡± he accused her.


    ¡°No.¡±


    With that word, she gave up on the underdress, and just turned wolf in a cloud of shredding fabric. Prince George watched, looking excited. Right until it dawned on him that there was no more talking to her now. She padded over to the door. Greg felt compelled to open it for her.


    He didn¡¯t resist.


    Annabelle ducked outside and quickly vanished in the shadows beyond the building. Greg took a deep breath of the fresh evening air. He didn¡¯t notice that the prince had followed to stare after her, too, until he turned around. There were tears running down the boy¡¯s face but he made no sound at all.


    Greg had no idea what to say. Was it even his place to say anything? But it didn¡¯t look like George Louis was going to, either.


    The prince ran a sleeve over his face. There was no way to do that surreptitiously, but his father still didn¡¯t react. Annabelle was the one to move first, whining softly in the dark.


    Greg looked up. ¡°She didn¡¯t go far,¡± he relayed. ¡°She¡¯s asking if you¡¯d like a ride back to the party, my prince.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± hissed the duke.


    Prince George already skipped away, pulling Greg with him.


    Annabelle was pacing up and down the path, just outside the halo of light from the lamps. When she saw the prince, she lowered herself almost down to her stomach.


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± George Louis bellowed.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± David sighed. ¡°And it¡¯s a great cover, too, if anyone wonders where we went.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever done this, David?¡±


    ¡°No, but Greg carried Thoko all the way to the Argentum Formation. Morgulon has carried Lane like this, too. It¡¯s no big deal. He¡¯s had riding lessons, hasn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Of course he¡¯s had¡ª¡±


    ¡°Well then,¡± David said.


    The prince carefully stroked Annabelle¡¯s flank, hesitating. Less because of his father¡¯s refusal, Greg thought, more because Annabelle was quite different from a pony, whatever David had said. He offered the boy a hand, lifting him up onto his mother¡¯s back.


    ¡°You can hold on here,¡± he said, ¡°grip the fur tightly, it won¡¯t hurt her.¡±


    Annabelle waited until he had dug his fingers into the mane on her back before she straightened. George Louis jumped forwards, then froze as if he¡¯d walked into a wall. David strolled past him.


    ¡°You¡¯re good up there, my prince?¡± he asked. ¡°Let¡¯s go, then.¡±


    When Annabelle trotted ahead, David lengthened his stride, keeping level with her. ¡°Hold on with your knees, too, my prince. Just like a horse.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t want to hurt her,¡± the boy muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll let us know,¡± David assured him. ¡°Or Greg will.¡±


    Annabelle snorted.


    ¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± Greg translated. ¡°Just hang on tight.¡±


    George Louis didn¡¯t say anything, but Greg could hear him breathing unevenly, labouredly. Greg thought the duke almost choked when the princes asked: ¡°Can we go faster?¡±


    ¡°A little bit,¡± David said. ¡°Keep level with me, Annabelle. I¡¯m not Nathan, but we can give them a bit of a show.¡±


    ¡°David¡ª¡± George Louis started, but Annabelle already trotted ahead, David jogging along.


    ¡°Mithras damn you all,¡± George Louis cursed, then took off after them. Greg grinned and walked more sedately back towards the party. It didn¡¯t take him long to catch up with the duke, who had run off too fast and was holding his sides now.


    The prince¡¯s laughter echoed between the hedges.


    ¡°If anything happens to him, I swear¡­¡± George Louis trailed off, rubbing his ribs.


    Greg walked past him, annoyed, not slowing down. ¡°Sounds to me like he¡¯s having fun. Such a dangerous thing for a child.¡±


    When Greg returned to the party, the burn of silver right behind him, there was polite applause as Annabelle walked in a circle around David, the prince waving graciously from her back.


    Pierre was annoyed at the display, but Greg thought the other werewolves didn¡¯t mind too much. Morgulon certainly didn¡¯t.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t play donkey for a grown man,¡± Greg heard R¨¦my say to some noble. ¡°But a little boy or girl, sure. Kids should get to have fun.¡±


    Daisy ran around Annabelle, tail wagging excitedly, as if to prove his point.


    ¡°Not that many children are as brave as his young Highness.¡±


    George Louis harrumphed, but as the nobles joined in on praising the prince, he accepted it gracefully, never showing how worried he had been just a moment ago. He still glared at Greg as if this was all his fault when the prince refused to come down from Annabelle¡¯s back.


    Greg wished he could take credit for this. Nothing he had done all evening made the assembled werewolves look more harmless than Annabelle prancing like a good circus pony around David, the child laughing on her back.


    Of course, most of the other nobles thought this was due to David¡¯s mystic powers over the monsters, or some bullshit like that. Still, it was a good start.


    Or a start, in any case.

 Chapter 143

    George Louis was waiting for him in his office when David returned from his morning round of the cells. Given what Greg had told him after the party last night, David was surprised to see him.


    Less surprising was that the duke was sitting in David¡¯s own chair. He didn¡¯t even try to hide the fact that he had rifled through all the papers on the desk.


    Grooch was nowhere in sight, and the duke made no move to get up. David rolled his eyes and closed the door behind himself, then leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest.


    ¡°Came to apologise?¡± he asked. ¡°Or to drag me in front of the firing squad?¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up, David. I¡¯m not in the mood for what you call humour. You know I won¡¯t have you shot.¡±


    ¡°Mhm. How about Greg? Or Annabelle?¡±


    George Louis hefted the letter opened in one hand as if he was considering to throw it. ¡°They are both unharmed and back where they belong, are they not? So kindly stop pretending I¡¯m some kind of blood-thirsty tyrant. You¡¯ve got a letter from one.¡±


    David ignored that last bit. ¡°Why even sent that note to Greg then? Five minutes before the party?¡±


    ¡°I do not trust them. Excuse me for worrying about my son¡¯s health and well-being.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t warn George, though.¡±


    ¡°I simply did not wish to upset him. If your brother had followed orders, the party would simply have passed. Nothing would have happened.¡±


    ¡°Except for your son¡¯s disappointment. And going back on our word like that doesn¡¯t exactly endear us to Annabelle¡¯s pack, either.¡±


    David paused, looking the duke up and down. ¡°Nothing happened in any case, except that George had a great time.¡±


    George Louis sniffed, still playing with the letter opener. ¡°Fine. Whatever. I overreacted. I¡¯m sorry. Can we get to the issue at hand now? You¡¯ve got a letter from the Emperor!¡±


    He actually said sorry. Huh. ¡°That¡¯s the second time this month you said that word. Are you sure you¡¯re feeling well?¡±


    George Louis finally did throw the opener at him. David caught the long piece of metal without bruising his fingers¡ªwhich surprised him more than the duke.


    ¡°Will you please focus, David?¡±


    David pushed away from the door, to have a look at the envelope the duke held out. It really did bear the seal of the Roi Solei, already broken.


    ¡°The Sun King himself?¡± David turned the envelope over, but it had no markings beyond the seal. ¡°What does he want?¡±


    ¡°Your head.¡±


    ¡°Should I pretend to be surprised?¡± After he had killed the High Inquisitor he hadn¡¯t exactly expected an order of merit. ¡°Bit of a waste of paper, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s sending his son to collect it.¡±


    That did give David pause. ¡°He cannot possibly be that stupid.¡±


    ¡°Stupid how?¡±


    David stared down at the heavy paper of the envelope again. Surely, the Roi Solei wouldn¡¯t risk¡­. ¡°Wait, which son is he sending? Not the crown prince?¡±


    ¡°The very same. Likely a measure to strengthen the prince¡¯s position at court. Recapturing Loegrion, that¡¯s the sort of thing Rambouillet admires.¡±


    Politics, of course. Still. That didn¡¯t seem like a smart move.


    ¡°So you want me to kill the prince?¡± David asked. ¡°Capture him? Sounds like he¡¯d be quite a bargaining chip.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± George Louis sneered, waving the letter. ¡°He¡¯s going to be surrounded by an army at all times. I don¡¯t want you near him. I just wanted you to know that there¡¯s money on your head. They¡¯re making you a scapegoat. The Church has declared you an Enemy of Mithras, there¡¯s general absolution to be had for the man who kills you, and a million gold pieces for anyone looking for a more worldly incentive.¡±


    David froze in reaching for the message itself, pulling up his eyebrows. ¡°One million gold pieces?¡± he repeated. ¡°For little old me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not taking this seriously,¡± George Louis growled.


    ¡°Well, no,¡± David admitted. ¡°That number makes me think they aren¡¯t serious, either. There¡¯s no way they¡¯ll pay that much money for my corpse. In fact, I seriously doubt the crown has that much money lying around. They could buy a fleet with that.¡±


    ¡°I would think the number is symbolic, yes, to illustrate how very badly they want you dead. That doesn¡¯t make it less dangerous.¡±


    ¡°How so? If there¡¯s no real money to be had¡­¡±


    ¡°I bet there¡¯s going to be real money, if not a million gold pieces,¡± George Louis sighed. ¡°Look, David, the money isn¡¯t the point, anyways. I told you, they¡¯re making you a scapegoat. Any noble who stood with us¡ªeven people who fought on our side¡ªif they have second thoughts, all they have to do is murder you, and be welcomed back with open arms, all sins fogiven. Hell, even Desmarais¡ªor at the very least his family¡ªcould jump at the offer. This really is dangerous!¡±


    David shrugged. He was trying to take this seriously, he really was. But mostly, he was relieved. This was something he might be able to use, to calm werewolves like Pierre. Show them that he shared the danger. That they weren¡¯t the only ones who had to fear assassins, who risked their lives for Loegrion¡¯s future.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to put guards on your door,¡± Goerge Louis said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± David smiled grimly. ¡°I might take a healing amulet. But no guards. In fact, I think we should make this letter public.¡±


    George Louis blinked at him. ¡°Have you lost your mind?¡±


    ¡°Think about it,¡± David said. ¡°The Valoise will make sure this prize on my head gets circulated, otherwise, symbolic or not, what¡¯s the point? So let¡¯s do it first. Show them we don¡¯t fear their hired cutthroats.¡±


    ¡°People¡¯ll attack you at home. Think of your parents!¡±


    David leaned over the desk, looking the duke in the eye. ¡°They already attacked us at home, George. I can ask Mother to go to Courtenay, but I doubt she will. They held a knife to her throat once already, and she didn''t run. No. Make it public. Hells, I¡¯ll offer a challenge to anyone who wants that absolution. They can meet me at the duelling court.¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯ve really lost it,¡± George Louis sighed.


    David grinned at him. As long as it got him out of the bloody office.


    George Louis jumped a little when the door opened and Greg walked in. David straightened, too. His brother paused, looking back and forth between them. ¡°Am I interrupting?¡±


    ¡°Tell him he¡¯s crazy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy, David,¡± Greg said without a hint of hesitation. Then he turned to frown at the duke. ¡°I thought that was, like, general knowledge. Every werewolf hunter is, Your Highness. It¡¯s a job prerequisite.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep it in mind,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Do try and talk him out of challenging every devotee of Mithras, will you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± Greg promised.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just leave that here,¡± George Louis said, patting the letter. He waited until Greg was halfway between him and the door, then dashed outside.


    ¡°Something going on?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°The Empire wants me dead.¡±


    ¡°You specifically? Why? And why now?¡±


    ¡°Apparently, they¡¯re putting a one million gold pieces bounty on my head and are offering general absolution to whoever kills me.¡±


    ¡°Really. One million?¡±


    ¡°And the Heir Apparent is coming to collect. I don¡¯t even know who that is, right now. They keep dying.¡±


    ¡°The Rising Sun, His Highness the Levant, Maluce the Radiant. Why did George Louis call you crazy?¡±


    David sat down in his chair, scanning the letter the duke had left. A lot of flowery prose and petty insults. Grooch would likely have approved of the handwriting, though. When Greg opened his mouth to ask again, David leaned back.


    ¡°I suggested publishing the bounty and whatever else they wrote. And offer a challenge, draw out the believers. Word will get out, one way or another. Hell, I¡¯ll make it a contest to see who¡¯ll live longer, a werewolf hunter of Loegrion or a crown prince of the Valoise. What do you think?¡±


    Greg looked supremely unimpressed by the idea. ¡°I think Mother will kill you herself if you do.¡±


    ¡°She wouldn¡¯t fear a bunch of Mithrans,¡± David scoffed.


    ¡°No, but she would fear for you. Knives in the dark, poison¡­ and even if the Mithrans were honest enough to fight you face to face, you don¡¯t have time for that nonsense.¡±


    ¡°I wish I did,¡± David sighed. ¡°I wish that was the whole of it, a few duells.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t be just a few.¡±


    ¡°I bet once I kill enough of them, it¡¯ll stop.¡±


    David sighed again, running a hand over the paper, then stopped at one particular line. His Valoise wasn¡¯t great but¡­ The Prince Levant wanted to face him on the battlefield? George Louis hadn¡¯t mentioned that part.


    ¡°Do you think I could be more useful down south?¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re plenty useful right here.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel that way,¡± David muttered. ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel like there¡¯s a damn point to what I¡¯m doing here.¡±


    ¡°What, because people aren¡¯t hugging werewolves on the street yet?¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± David muttered, not looking at his brother.


    ¡°Something else going on?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just sick of sitting on my arse, I guess,¡± David muttered.


    Sick of being out of his depth. Of feeling like an idiot. Sick of the girls throwing themselves at him, and Greg having to rescue him.


    He didn¡¯t want to fight and kill Valoision soldiers.


    He really didn¡¯t.


    But at least he¡¯d make a difference that way. If it was him, it wasn¡¯t some kid who barely knew how to hold a sword.


    He already knew what George Louis would say: That they had plenty of soldiers and that he was needed here.


    Which was bullshit.


    ¡°Maybe I should go,¡± he said aloud. ¡°The only person who needs me to be here is George Louis. He¡¯s fabricated this whole idea that I¡¯m the only one who can integrate werewolves into Loegrian society, but I think last night showed how that is patently untrue. I only need to be here because he¡¯s scared and wants me around. In fact, it might be more helpful if I left him to deal with you directly. How else will he learn to trust you?¡±


    Greg didn¡¯t look thrilled at that idea, either. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go and blow off some steam at the fencing hall or the shooting range,¡± he suggested. ¡°And we¡¯ll talk about it later?¡±


    David rolled his eyes. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s the nicest way I was ever told to shut up.¡±


    He pushed back his chair, balancing on the back legs, which wasn¡¯t easy in the heavy armchair. When was the last time he¡¯d taken his horse for a nice, long ride? Maybe it would help him to get out of here.


    ¡°You know what?¡± David let the chair fall back onto all four legs. ¡°I think I¡¯ll take you up on that.¡±


    There was another thing bothering him, though he was loath to admit it. It was a stupid thing to be bothered by. He didn¡¯t want Greg to be in trouble, especially not with George Louis.


    But it was true that he had expected him to be, after last night. Stupid orders or not. He certainly hadn¡¯t expected an apology, as meagre as it had been.


    The man David had used to fear, had run from for a decade, the one who had turned on Lester and Clarence for power¡ªthe devil he had painted in his own mind¡ªwouldn¡¯t have said sorry. Wouldn¡¯t have apologised to Annabelle¡­ Though keeping her away from her own son very much fit into that old picture.


    But if George Louis was changing¡ªeven slowly¡ªthen what the five frozen hells was he doing here? He had given Morgulon his word that he would watch out for the werewolves¡¯ interest, protect them, as best as he could, from being stabbed in the back. He had even agreed to use the duke¡¯s infatuation with him to that end, because it had seemed a worthwhile goal.


    But if George Louis was starting to finally get over his silly fear¡ªand how else was he supposed to take that half-assed attempt of stopping Young George from meeting his mother? George Louis couldn¡¯t really have expected Greg to follow that order?¡ªIf George Louis was getting soft, getting to accept that the werewolves were needed¡­


    Then David wasn¡¯t.


    He might as well stop pretending there was a way they would ever get back together while he still knew it was all just pretense himself. Save some of his dignity, and save himself the heartbreak.


    There would be heartbreak, wouldn¡¯t there? David hadn¡¯t been enough to fully hold George Louis¡¯s interest when he had been fifteen, surely, today he¡¯d be even faster to find satisfaction in another man¡¯s arms? David doubted that marrying Lane would make him fat and boring, but sitting at that bloody desk in his office certainly would.


    Unless Greg was going to send him to the training grounds every time he had a stupid idea, in which case he should stay very fit indeed.

 Chapter 144

    A river ran north along the road, probably towards the Hafren. Its quick-flowing waters almost drowned out the sound of hooves on gravel, but it wasn¡¯t a deep gorge. On the other shore, the trees stood densely, their leaves hanging into the waves. The dense undergrowth made Nathan itch to reach for his crossbow. Anything could hide in those shadows.


    To his other side, the morning sunlight flooded over pastures and fields, separated by hedges and overgrown little walls. And in the distance, just barely visible, more trees. Up ahead, Nathan could see some kind of mill making use of the water¡¯s power.


    Nathan had used to think it was a landscape made for werewolves, back when he had come here for his very first hunt. There had always been a lot of them in the area, hiding in the forests, killing livestock and spreading the curse. Of course, these days he knew that the lowlands had likely been shaped in part by the werewolves¡¯ presence.


    This was some of the best farmland in the country, despite the fact¡ªor possibly because¡ªit had never been treated alchemically. The rich fields ran almost all the way to the Hafren, despite how overcome the big river was with the Rot. And only werewolves could keep so much land safe. Elder werewolves, to be precise.


    As he neared Rosie¡¯s old village, there was a subtle change to the landscape, so minor that Nathan didn¡¯t even notice at first. Not until he came past the carcasses of not one, or two, but three dead sheep.


    There were no other animals out to graze on the wide pastures. There were no people working the fields, either. It was spring and all the farmers should be busy getting the summer crops planted. Yet the only movement Nathan saw were the bees and other insects buzzing from blossom to blossom.


    And the flies, circling over the bodies like a black cloud. Nothing else had fed on the meat, and the stink was eye-watering.


    Nathan had rarely seen anything like this. Spreaders had little interest in livestock. Other types of mad werewolves sometimes went on mindless killing sprees when faced with a herd, but they didn¡¯t stop until nothing was left alive. But here there were three dead sheep, killed right along the roadside. That looked deliberate, both the number and the placement of the bodies.


    And that was scary.


    Sometimes, rarely, there appeared a werewolf that wasn¡¯t mad like spreaders were¡ªor maybe, it was better to say a werewolf that wasn¡¯t mindless in the way the other mad ones were. They still possessed a human-like intelligence. They could still plan and reason and problem-solve like the next person, but there was a malice in them, a cruelty and hatred for the living¡ªand always that same strange desire to spread the curse¡ªthat made them a different kind of monster altogether. Harder to kill, and even worse to face alone than a regular werewolf.


    If Nathan was right, it was no wonder the people of Rosie¡¯s village had turned to any werewolf hunter they could find. And no wonder those hunters had preferred to go after Rosie. This was dangerous. David would hesitate to go after this one, even if it were the two of them.


    It would fit Rosie¡¯s story, too.


    Nathan swung the crossbow off his back and spurred his horse, staring into the dense trees on the other side of the river. The creature might be right over there, waiting for the right moment. Might even be waiting for him to reach the village, so his corpse would be found as easily as the dead sheep. The smartest monsters appeared to thrive on the terror they spread.


    He needed to find the circus act and find them fast. Either that or find himself lodgings for the night. If he was right about what kind of creature was haunting the area, then a tree would offer poor protection. Especially with it being half moon.


    Monsters like this could climb.


    The gates to the village were closed, even in broad daylight. That probably meant that the villagers hadn¡¯t all been murdered yet. But then Nathan spotted the place where the river he had followed all day entered the village underneath the wooden palisades, and felt a little less optimistic.


    ¡°Hey!¡± he called. ¡°Anyone alive in there?¡±


    A man¡¯s face appeared on top of the palisade, next to the gate. Blond hair, blond beard, a simple cap adorned with what Nathan guessed was a single silver coin. Unlikely to do much against either the Rot nor a werewolf, but it probably made the man feel better.


    ¡°Nobody¡¯s allowed entrance!¡± the villager yelled back.


    ¡°Yeah, I figured. I saw the dead sheep along the road. Looks like you¡¯ve got a bit of a werewolf problem? Want some help?¡±


    Nathan barely understood the growled reply. ¡°Another hunter?¡±


    The man didn¡¯t sound happy about that, and Nathan nodded to himself. The only kind of werewolf that made a beleaguered village more weary of hunters than happy to see them were the total bastards who enjoyed punishing farmers for hiring help.


    ¡°Two of my colleagues should have arrived here a couple of days ago!¡± Nathan replied. ¡°A big guy named Bart and another one named Roy. They still in the area?¡±


    It wouldn¡¯t surprise him if the circus act had run and not stopped yet at the prospect of the danger here.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The man up on the palisades spit down to the ground. ¡°Those clowns? Gave us a big lecture on how killing werewolves is illegal and how we should have gotten ourselves a crown warrant first. Threatened us with the watch! As if those cowards would show their faces out here!¡±


    ¡°So are they still in the village?¡±


    ¡°Went to check out the old sawmill where the old bitch and her husband was killed the other night. Paid Jimmy to take them, he returned the same day. Haven¡¯t seen them since. But we had a bunch of animals killed since then, so I reckon the bastard in the forest found out about them.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s heart sank further.


    Big Bart and Little Roy wouldn¡¯t really insist on the crown warrant, would they? There was no way they could wait until some judge had signed one. If this was what Nathan thought it was, they needed to take advantage of whatever chance they got.


    David would back him on this. He better.


    Nathan turned his horse around, then looked back. ¡°Thanks!¡± he yelled over his shoulder.


    Hopefully, he¡¯d find the circus act while the sun was still up¡ªnot that it afforded any safety against this type of werewolf. Rosie had described for him both where her grandparents had lived, and also where she had been bitten. He¡¯d start with their home.


    He just had to keep his wits about himself. Stay sharp. Keep the crossbow at hand. Don¡¯t shoot either Roy or Bart. Don¡¯t get killed.


    The path swung around the village. With open fields on his left and the palisades of the village to his right, he felt fairly secure, but soon the river was back, and the forest crowded in from both sides. A crop of fast-growing pines, not the dense wilderness of the Savre shores, but still, a dizzying interplay of light and shadows. And he was riding a horse he was barely familiar with.


    Nathan patted the gelding¡¯s neck. He hoped the animal would warn him if something came at them, but it was no Bairn nor Dolly he could trust blindly.


    A bird flapping its wings made him jump and almost raise his crossbow. Nathan cursed. He¡¯d never understood David¡¯s aversion to hunting alone. His one solo trip around First Camp had been a walk in the park compared to this.


    All he had asked for was a spreader. Simple, no moral quandaries. In a way, Nathan supposed he had gotten his wish. He just hadn¡¯t anticipated that he would have to outwit anything smarter than a dog.


    He should better check the gelding¡¯s hooves, as soon as there was a good opportunity. Rest the horse, too. Maybe eat something himself. And he should probably name the nag? Or just call it that.


    ¡°Nag. Or Hack. Crock. Or I just call you horse. Not your fault you¡¯re no Bairn.¡±


    And then a thought came to him and he grinned. ¡°I¡¯ll call you Sore. As in sore throat. Because you¡¯re hoarse.¡±


    It was a shame that neither of his brothers was around to hear the joke. But that was fine. He¡¯d tell them when he got back to Deva. He just needed to get them both back there alive.


    At the next deserted pasture, he directed Sore into the middle of the open grass area. He took the saddle off and checked the hooves, the leg and the coat, then allowed the horse to graze. He sat down in the grass, but didn¡¯t take the snaffle off and held onto the reins, his spear resting against his shoulder and crossbow ready at his knee.


    He gave Sore two hours to graze and doze as much as the horseflies would let him. Nathan himself swatted at the gnats out for his blood, and dug into the provisions the good captain had provided him with. Hard tack, cured meat, a bit of cheese. Fletcher apparently expected him to be on the road for a while. Or he had never heard about scurvy.


    The thought made Nathan pick some sorrel from the field.


    ¡°I¡¯ll end up being a better horse than you, Sore,¡± he informed the gelding.


    He could almost hear Andrew¡¯s dry, ¡°You¡¯re an ass, not a horse.¡±


    Sun, how he wished his brothers were here. If he got out of here alive, he¡¯d never make fun of Andrew¡¯s weight again.


    It felt surreal, sitting in the bright spring sun, with nothing but Sore and the insects for company. His eyes kept drooping even as he tried to be watchful. But nothing moved, except for some birds high in the sky.


    ¡°No rain. Not for a while at least. Should be safe from the Rot.¡±


    The sense of serenity faded as soon as he was back in the saddle. The pasture bordered onto more forest¡ªthis one broadleaf. Even this early in the year, the foliage was dense enough that Nathan kept craning his neck and still didn¡¯t see much. Every rustle in the trees, every bird taking flight, every breeze shifting the leaves made him jump.


    When he reached the sawmill, the unease intensified. The water wheel turned idly. It hadn¡¯t been long enough for the house and workshop to fall in disrepair. Only the garden in front of the house had been trampled. He could see all that, because there was no wall protecting the mill, not even a fence surrounding the vegetables that just poked out of the ground.


    The scent of death lingered in the air, even though Nathan could see where the bodies had been taken away. Was that the Rot?


    But he didn¡¯t even have a headache.


    He craned his neck again, then climbed out of the saddle. The spear he left with Sore, but he had the crossbow ready in hand as he inspected the traces of the fight. There was a large patch of dried blood out on the road and footprints in the loam of the garden. Human blood, so this was probably where Rosie¡¯s grandfather had gotten his head bashed in. Unless they had dragged out her grandmother, too.


    But no, there was a second patch of blood, right in front of the door. This one sizzled when Nathan touched his silver blade to it. Rosie hadn¡¯t mentioned that she¡¯d been hurt so badly?


    Then again, something must have triggered the transformation in her so close to new moon.


    The smell of death was stronger, this close to the house. Had the mob killed the grandmother inside and then left her there? It certainly smelled like it.


    Nathan straightened up and looked around again. The front door to the little house stood ajar, so he nudged it open with his wooden foot until he could step inside.


    The shutters were closed, and he heard the buzzing of the flies just before the new wave hit him, the sickly sweet stench of meat rotting for days. A single maggot in the cone of light warned him of what to expect inside.


    He stepped fully into the hut and allowed his eyes to adjust to the gloom, breathing as flatly as he could. He didn¡¯t want to step on the body, or slip on anything.


    As a werewolf hunter, Nathan was used to grisly work. He had seen his fair share of bodies in different stages of decay. He thought he was ready for this. But what he hadn¡¯t been ready for was that there were two bodies. Their faces were covered in flies, and so were the gaping wounds on their upper bodies.


    There was still enough left of their clothes and their equipment¡ªespecially the two silver-loaded crossbows¡ªto tell Nathan that he had found Bart and Roy.

 Chapter 145

    For a few, stunned seconds Nathan just stood there, staring at the bodies in the gloom. Then he turned and threw the front door closed, jamming down the bar. The only source of light now was a shutter that hadn¡¯t been closed properly, but at least he could be sure nobody would attack him from behind while he checked the bodies.


    Nathan waited another minute for his eyes to adjust, then made his way over to the closed windows, to open another one. They were small enough that he didn¡¯t worry about an attack coming this way.


    And he was very worried indeed suddenly.


    For all that he liked to call them the circus act, Roy and Bart were experienced hunters. In fact, they¡¯d been on the job longer than him, almost as long as David. Made a living of it, too. They couldn¡¯t be complete idiots, or they wouldn¡¯t have survived in the field that long.


    If nothing else, they knew how to pick their battles.


    Yet something had caught up with them here.


    Nathan looked around slowly, trying to take in the details, hoping for a clue. The inside of the house wasn¡¯t big, just one room with a single wood-burning stove for both cooking and heating in the centre. A chimney took the smoke away. A door in the back connected it to the workroom of the saw mill, built over the river. Nathan threw one look inside, saw nothing suspicious, and threw that door closed, too. Pushed one of the simple but heavy shelves in front of it for good measure.


    The shelves were filled with jars of preserved vegetables and fruit. To the side, there was a small kitchen. A bank was built against the front wall. The table that belonged to it stood at an awkward angle, with two more chairs, both of them turned over. Roy¡¯s body lay next to one of them. As if someone had pushed the table with enough force to topple them, too.


    Nathan resisted the urge to go over there right away. A ladder led up into the rafters on the other side of the front door. Climbing it was a pain, especially with the crossbow, and all he found for his troubles were two simple beds. Bart¡¯s and Roy¡¯s belongings were stacked underneath the ladder, in an empty spot across from the table group.


    There was a surprising amount of space left, especially right around the oven. Now that Nathan¡¯s eyes had gotten used to the gloom, he made out a difference in the wooden flooring there¡ªsomething had worn them smooth. Perhaps the grandparents had kept dogs? It was a rather large spot, though. Morgulon would quite comfortably fit.


    But it didn¡¯t seem likely that the killer was one of Rosie¡¯s grandparents. Could they have harboured the killer perhaps? Long enough to smooth the floor down?


    Maybe. Four months might do it, especially if the killer had slept there as a wolf throughout the winter. Maybe they had come back as Bart and Roy had searched the house?


    But the two of them had died at the table. Bart¡¯s body was still on the bench, slumped over the table top, his crossbow right next to his head. Roy¡¯s body lay next to an overturned chair, his crossbow on the floor with him. One bolt was missing¡ªNathan found it stuck in a wooden beam of the rafters.


    Whoever had murdered them had been close enough that Bart hadn¡¯t even had time to reach for his weapon. Moreover, the table had clearly been displaced. Had the killer been sitting right next to Bart on the bench?


    Nathan pressed his lips together. If nothing else, this told him that the monster could pass as human, not just in the way they looked, but in their act, too.


    They had to have proper clothes, too¡ªor used to have proper clothes. They must have transformed on the spot, and quickly, too. Bart and Roy wouldn¡¯t have given them time to take off their clothes first.


    Or would they? They had met Greg, briefly, and they had been quite happy to work for David. How much had they internalised the idea that not all werewolves were dangerous?


    But surely, they couldn¡¯t be that foolish?


    No. Safer to bet the killer was skilled at disguising themselves. And fast at transforming, even on half moon.


    How old was this monster?


    Nathan had assumed it was someone newly turned, but was it even possible for a months-old to transform fast enough to get the drop on a hunter who had his crossbow at hand? Morgulon could do it, sure. But could Greg?


    ¡°Someone¡¯s got to do a study on this, too,¡± Nathan muttered to himself.


    He took another look around¡ªthere were some pieces of fabric underneath the table and on the bench, but it looked like the killer had cleaned up after themselves. Why? They hadn¡¯t bothered to hide the bodies? Did that mean they worried that someone might have recognized the rags?


    But who would come here? Villagers? The killer couldn¡¯t know about the investigators coming from Deeshire, could they?


    But how would they?


    Nathan had a good rummage around in Bart¡¯s and Roy¡¯s bags, but didn¡¯t find any hint of what had been going on here. He did find their food supplies¡ªapparently, the killer hadn¡¯t bothered looting anything from them. Since it didn¡¯t look like the villagers were coming by soon, Nathan checked the kitchen¡¯s stocks, too. No point in letting good food go to waste.


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    He dumped out Bart¡¯s backpack, and had just started filling it with jars of pickled vegetables and jam, when he noticed the ladder that was hung above the top rack. Finding the trapdoor took him longer: it was covered up by the only rug in the house.


    That only made Nathan more curious to see what was down there.


    He lit the oil lamp on the table, and carefully checked the downstairs for any movement. The last thing he needed was a tunnel leading to the outside and the werewolf waiting for him¡ªas unlikely as that was. He did feel a little silly when all he saw was an open crate full of apples.


    Nathan didn¡¯t even have to climb down there to see the scratch marks on the loamy walls.


    Rosie¡¯s grandparents had harboured a werewolf. More than one, unless Rosie had lied to him about both when she had been bitten and the fact that her grandfather hadn¡¯t even known what she was.


    It didn¡¯t seem likely that she had.


    Nathan rubbed his face and threw a glance out of the window: just after noon. It was tempting to stay here, rummage around a little more, until the shadows fell, and oh, such a shame, nothing he could do in the dark. But he¡¯d find no answers that way. At the very least, he needed to go back to the village, see if someone would tell him about Rosie¡¯s grandparents and if they had housed any long-staying guests.


    He pushed the front door open slowly, carefully. He felt silly, hurrying over to Sore, loosening the reins, and jumping in the saddle. Yet his heartbeat didn¡¯t stop thundering in his ears until he was out of the forest again. He suddenly had a whole new appreciation for David, doing this at just fourteen years of age, with almost no experience. Not that he had ever thought it had been easy for his brother.


    ***


    Even from outside the gates, Nathan could hear voices screaming inside the village, a hoarse cacophony that rose and fell with pain. He hoped it was animals, but it might have been human voices, too. It certainly didn¡¯t sound like a regular butchering¡ªif it was one, something had gone very wrong.


    Given the screaming, it surprised Nathan a little when his knocking on the gate was answered quickly. Wood scratched against wood, then one wing opened a little. An old man with a crumbled face looked at him.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you hear the screaming? Fuck off, boy, it¡¯s not safe here!¡±


    Nathan nodded grimly. ¡°I do hear. What¡¯s the monster done this time?¡±


    That gave the old man pause. ¡°You heard about that?¡±


    ¡°I just found the bodies of my colleagues at the sawmill,¡± Nathan replied, shrugging his shoulders so that the crossbow jumped on his back. ¡°So what¡¯s going on here?¡±


    The old man sighed. ¡°Some bastard¡¯s going round, cutting off ears from the goats in the village. Done a dozen in the past month alone, another two today.¡±


    ¡°In broad daylight?¡±


    The old man looked at him with a mixture of exhaustion, fear, sadness and resignation. ¡°Yes, boy. In broad daylight.¡±


    ¡°So you wouldn¡¯t happen to know what happened at the sawmill? Not the bit about Rosie¡¯s grandparents, she already told me about that. More recently. Did anyone from the village go there?¡±


    The old man peered at him again. ¡°Just go home, boy,¡± he sighed, ¡°or wherever you came from. We don¡¯t need another idiot who thinks werewolves are people. Mark my word, you¡¯ll just turn out another heap of stinking black meat for us to find.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s hands curled into fists around the reins he was holding. ¡°Because killing kids and grandparents has improved the situation so much?¡± he asked back.


    No answer. The old man just blinked at him in stupor.


    Ah well.


    He was about to ride off, when another thought came to him.


    ¡°Anyways, I¡¯m Nathan Fleetfood Feleke. Anything you want me to pass on to the palace? No? Then I¡¯ll just turn around and tell the investigators coming here from Deeshire you lot murdered Rosie¡¯s grandparents over nothing. If I were you, I¡¯d start asking myself if you want the rope or the bite. They¡¯ll be here in a day or two, so better think fast.¡±


    He waited a few more seconds, but the threat didn¡¯t seem to have any effect. A shame, but it had been worth a try.


    He couldn¡¯t help the feeling that he had been supposed to find the bodies at the sawmill.  Cutting off ears in broad daylight and leaving the dead sheep on the pastures? There was a method to that madness, wasn¡¯t it? The killer was proving to the villagers that nowhere was safe. If he was right, then he was fairly certain that the challenge of an official investigator from the big city would draw the killer out again.


    And he¡¯d be ready for that attack. Provided he survived the night.


    He briefly considered going back to the sawmill, but the whole place stunk of death. More importantly, now that he had announced him, he needed to make sure he could warn the investigator before the man ran into a ¡°helpful stranger¡± on the road and turned up dead, too.


    So he turned Sore down the road they had ridden up just this very morning. The gelding was tired, and Nathan, too, if he was honest. He¡¯d need to find a campsite, and soon. Some nice tree to rest on.


    At least there was no shortage of trees. Not even a shortage of trees standing alone. Nathan found himself an old, tall lime-tree at the edge of a pasture, just off the road. The trunk was comfortingly massive and the lowest branches were high enough that he would only reach them from the saddle.


    ¡°Sorry, Sore,¡± he muttered, as he tied the gelding to the trunk. ¡°This is going to be uncomfortable.¡±


    He was no trick-rider, and briefly debated leaving the saddle on for the night. But a literally sore horse might be the death of him tomorrow. So he sighed and took the saddle off, and then had to struggle to get onto Sore¡¯s back. It was a good thing the gelding wasn¡¯t as tall as Bairn. He wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d have been able to do it with his wooden foot otherwise. Sore was also a lot more patient than Bairn and barely even twitched when Nathan struggled to stand upright on his back.


    It was a pain to get from there up onto the lowest branch, all the more so because he wasn¡¯t going to leave his newly acquired food stash down on the ground.


    ¡°Need to do more pull-ups,¡± Nathan muttered after a minute of struggling, leaning against the trunk. But still, once he climbed a few branches higher, nothing short of a bow should be able to reach him.


    He made himself comfortable and had a glass of jam with some of the hard tack from his supplies, washed it all down with water. It was a shame that he couldn¡¯t make at least tea.


    And he should have brought a book. Something to distract himself with. It was a bit early to go to sleep just yet?


    Just as he was considering taking the silver out of his crossbow and shooting some birds to pass the time, a sound interrupted the silence of the spring afternoon. Someone was riding up in a hurry.


    Nathan cursed softly. Now what? It couldn¡¯t be the investigator, right?


    But no. It was a single rider, coming down the road from the village that Nathan had taken twice today.

 Chapter 146

    Nathan hitched his good foot underneath a branch for a more secure seating, and swung his crossbow off his back. He didn¡¯t even have time to switch the silver bolts for steel when the stranger slowed down their horse, searching the ground underneath the tree. As if he¡¯d camp there, while there might be werewolves around.


    ¡°Oi!¡± Nathan yelled, as the rider made to climb out of the saddle. ¡°Stay right there! What do you want?¡±


    It was a woman, or possibly a girl. She was very short¡ªpetite was probably the better word¡ªand had clearly been in a hurry. The headscarf that had covered her flax-blond hair was sliding away, and while she wore a travelling cloak, the clothes underneath were a little too fine for a longer journey. The only protection she wore was a large silver amulet that hung on a string onto her bodice. No weapons that he could spot. The horse was wet with sweat. She must have galloped all this way from the village, and the hack certainly was no race horse.


    ¡°It¡¯s quite late to go for a walk,¡± Nathan prompted again, when the woman just looked around in confusion.


    Finally, she seemed to spot him. She said something he didn¡¯t catch, had to clear her throat, and finally called: ¡°I¡ªI heard something about an investigator. That¡¯s coming to the village. Is that true?¡±


    ¡°The owners of the sawmill were murdered, weren¡¯t they?¡± Nathan called back. ¡°What did you think would happen?¡±


    ¡°The old woman was a werewolf, too!¡±


    Rosie hadn¡¯t mentioned that. ¡°Since when?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°Ages! Everyone knew it. It wasn¡¯t a problem, you see, until¡­¡±


    Ages, great.


    ¡°So your village not only murdered an old man, but also killed an elder werewolf, who might have been the only reason this whole area hasn¡¯t been taken by the Rot. Congratulations, I guess! What do you want from me?¡±


    The woman raised her hands. She really didn¡¯t seem to be armed. Either she was very brave, that amulet was truly excellent, or she was very stupid.


    ¡°You¡¯re from Deva, right? From the palace? Can we talk, Sir? Please? I know about the other werewolves in the area! I think I¡¯ve seen the one you¡¯re after!¡±


    Nathan bit his lips. Clearly, that was a desperate plea. The woman had probably been involved in the attack on Rosie¡¯s grandparents, or she was close to someone who had been. Even if she did know something, could her word be trusted? It wasn¡¯t like Nathan could offer her anything in return. The last thing he wanted was to try and influence an official investigation. Not while David was under so much scrutiny.


    On the other hand, he was curious to hear more. If the whole village had known there was a werewolf, why had Rosie suddenly been a problem?


    ¡°All right,¡± he said. ¡°But slowly. Hands where I can see them.¡±


    He waited till she was out of the saddle and walking towards his tree, before he lowered himself down to the lowest branch, cursing softly to himself. The socket of his wooden foot ached after all the moving and walking he had done today¡ªall week, really. He let it hang off the branch. That took the weight off a bit. He loosened the leather straps that attached it to his body, too, then had to stop himself from dangling it¡ªthe foot might fall off.


    ¡°I¡¯m unarmed,¡± the woman assured him, when she saw Nathan leaning his head against the trunk, still holding onto his crossbow. She was a woman, after all, though very short. Not quite as young as he had thought from a distance. About Andrew¡¯s age, he reckoned. Not a bad face, either. Nice curves.


    ¡°So you say.¡± Nathan called back. Somehow, something about her made him uneasy.


    Sore snorted as the stranger crossed the last few yards to the tree, hands still raised.


    ¡°But you won¡¯t come down, Sir?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t see what for. I don¡¯t know you. There¡¯s a rumour that a werewolf is going around killing people in the area, don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve heard. And people are going around killing werewolves, apparently. I¡¯d rather not get caught in the crossfire.¡±


    The woman stared up at him. Her eyes were light and human-shaped, her hair that poked out from underneath a finely embroidered scarf was an even colour. The cloak was good quality, and so were the rest of her clothes. No hint that she wasn¡¯t fully human.


    ¡°I can prove I¡¯m no werewolf,¡± the woman offered, voice soft. ¡°Would that help?¡±


    ¡°Some,¡± Nathan said. He found a more stable position, freeing up his hands, just in case. The whole situation was making the hairs on his arms stand on end.


    The stranger reached into a pocket and produced a coin. She pressed it against her hand for a few seconds, then even put it into her mouth, glancing up at him.


    ¡°Does that suffice?¡± she asked.


    Nathan nodded slowly. His instincts still screamed at him that she was dangerous. Was he going mad? Paranoid? Greg would never ever put a piece of silver anywhere near his mouth.


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    But he still had goosebumps and his heart raced in his chest.


    Why would a woman even be here? To ask for leniency for her family? She could¡¯ve done that tomorrow.


    Except that scared people didn¡¯t always think straight.


    Do you want to gamble your life on this? The branch suddenly didn¡¯t look all that high anymore. And how high could a werewolf jump from standing still?


    The crossbow shifted in his grip. If he was wrong, he was about to shoot an innocent, unarmed woman for paranoia alone. He needed to be sure about this.


    If he was right, she was here to murder him.


    ¡°Please?¡± she asked, when he didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Will you just listen?¡±


    There was a tremble in her voice, and he saw wetness glisten on her cheek. The tears looked real enough? It couldn¡¯t hurt to listen, right?


    But would he be thinking that if her face wasn¡¯t as sweet? If she were old and ugly, or a man?


    Would it even be possible to fake a silver coin? Or an amulet like that? And where might she have gotten the clothes? They were nice clothes. High quality wool and linen. A rich farmer¡¯s daughter might wear clothes like these, not a werewolf coming in from the forest.


    Very nice clothing. And the jewellery.


    ¡°That¡¯s a nice amulet you¡¯ve got there,¡± Nathan said. He got a perfectly blank look in return.


    ¡°Thank you? It was my mother¡¯s.¡±


    She looked down at it, playing with the string, but not touching the metal. Fine then.


    Let¡¯s try something more direct.


    ¡°Sir, if there¡¯s anything I can do to allay your suspicions¡­¡±


    ¡°As a matter of fact,¡± Nathan replied, ¡°there is.¡±


    He eased a silver bolt out of his quiver. ¡°Catch!¡±


    She looked at him in surprise, holding out her hands, until Nathan actually dropped the bolt. It landed right in front of her feet, and she made no attempt to pick it up.


    ¡°I¡ªwould rather not cut myself,¡± she said.


    ¡°Of course not. Perhaps just the shaft?¡±


    They stared at each other, Nathan grinning madly in relief. His instincts weren¡¯t failing him after all. He wasn¡¯t just paranoid.


    Her lower lip quivered, her eyes wide.


    And then, abruptly, she dropped the act. Her shoulders straightened, her eyes narrowed, her lips formed an annoyed line. As she did, the magic flared, sending a shudder down his spine.


    ¡°All right,¡± she said. ¡°How did you know?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know until you refused to touch the silver.¡±


    ¡°But you suspected. How?¡±


    Nathan shrugged. ¡°Sun¡¯s setting in an hour, you¡¯re a woman, alone, unarmed? In an area where werewolves are known to roam? Moreover, you¡¯ve been a werewolf for years, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    He hadn¡¯t known what it was that had set him off until the magic had flared. Sore pulled at the string, trying to get away from her.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got the aura, or whatever it is. It¡¯s still pretty weak, but you can¡¯t really hide it, either, can you? Say, Rosie¡¯s grandmother, was she really a werewolf?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was an open secret.¡± She smirked, and then her voice rose in pitch. ¡°Everybody knew, but we¡¯d never would have thought¡­ Biting her own granddaughter, how terrible!¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Nathan stretched the word. He had thought the villagers had killed the two old people over Rosie. But the whole situation made a lot more sense now. ¡°Did granny bite you,¡± he asked, ¡°or was she just a convenient scapegoat?¡±


    ¡°Bite me? That old coward? No. Don¡¯t think she ever bit anyone. Had it all figured out, the old hag. Ran me out of the village when I liked the taste of blood not only on full moon.¡±


    ¡°How terribly unfair of her. So you set the village on her and her husband?¡±


    ¡°Why else do you think the men went and killed them?¡± She tilted her head. ¡°Oh! You thought it was about the girl, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Rosie thought it was about her,¡± Nathan shrugged. ¡°And she never brought up that her grandmother wasn¡¯t human, so yes. I figured the mob was after Rosie.¡±


    She grinned at him. ¡°Not at all. The pig botherers went and killed her because I said so. And then you went, just as I had hoped. Did you like your friends¡¯ bodies? They talked about you, all the time. Feleke this, Feleke that. A real professional, if not as good or famous as your brother. It was as if they wanted me to come after you. Not as famous as your brother, of course. But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll visit him, too.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you a little overconfident?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you need a crown warrant to shoot me?¡±


    She said that so earnestly, Nathan couldn¡¯t help but laugh. Which was apparently what she had been aiming for: She used that moment of distraction to duck around the tree, transforming as she went, much faster than Greg ever could. Nathan swung the crossbow around, but before he could shift his position enough to aim, she was jumping, flying through the air¡ªnot quite high enough to reach the branch, but high enough to snap her teeth shut around Nathan¡¯s foot that was still dangling down.


    His wooden foot.


    Even on her wolf-face, Nathan recognized the surprise when he shifted his weight just in time. The straps he had loosened just a few minutes ago slipped over his knee as soon as she pulled. She dropped back to the ground with nothing to show for her effort but a piece of wood wrapped in a leather boot.


    Before she could get over the surprise, Nathan took aim. The first bolt hit her in the neck, the second in the back. As the blood welled up, she tried to run. Nathan smiled grimly to himself. He had rearmed his crossbow before she even reached the road. The third silver arrow made her hind leg crumble under her, and as she swerved and stumbled, he landed the last shot between her ribs.


    He watched her crawl away, over the road and into the ditch on the other side. She didn¡¯t come out again.


    ¡°Pity for the pelt,¡± he muttered to himself, before he remembered that he couldn¡¯t sell it anyways.


    Then he let his head fall back against the trunk. All his belongings hung a couple of branches above his head. That included the rope. Which he needed, to tie himself to the tree, so he wouldn¡¯t break his neck if he fell asleep.


    And sun, he was suddenly tired.


    Cussing, he struggled up the tree again.


    ¡°Should have brought beer,¡± he muttered. Instead, he emptied a glass of excellent apple preserve, then secured his position and closed his eyes with every intention of getting a nice, long night of sleep. Possibly sleeping in. He had earned it, he thought.

 Chapter 147

    ¡°Oi! Oi, you up there!¡±


    The voice ringing through the shadows made Nathan jump.


    ¡°Wake up, man!¡±


    Nathan groaned softly. ¡°Shut up,¡± he muttered. Louder, he added: ¡°The hells do you want?¡±


    ¡°Did you kill that werewolf in the ditch?¡±


    Seriously?


    ¡°No! It drowned!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What a torch,¡± Nathan muttered, rubbing at his eyes. ¡°Why do you care?¡±


    ¡°Are there more werewolves in the area?¡± a new voice asked.


    ¡°And did you have a warrant?¡± the first voice added.


    Nathan blinked slowly into the dusk. The bare branches stood black against the last bit of colour in the sky, red and orange and pink, and quickly darkening clouds, grey like the exhaustion that had settled in Nathan¡¯s bones. It took him an inordinate amount of effort to just sit up and look down.


    Five men stood underneath his tree, two of them holding torches. Four guards and a man in a heavy coat and high top hat.


    ¡°You¡¯re the magistrate from Deeshire?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°I am,¡± the man in the top hat confirmed. He was voice number two. ¡°Is the area safe?¡±


    ¡°I sure hope so,¡± Nathan called down. ¡°Didn¡¯t see any other tracks asides from the bitch in the ditch.¡±


    The magistrate chuckled at the rhyme. Nathan rolled his eyes. It hadn¡¯t even been intentional. At least one of his guards glared at the man, and he added: ¡°Got a warrant?¡±


    ¡°No. Self defence. She attacked me. Ripped off my leg, too. You didn''t happen to find it, did you?¡±


    ¡°Find your leg?¡± The magistrate sounded as if he wondered if that was a joke.


    Nathan loosened the rope and swung both legs over the same side of the branch, pulling up his trouser. He wasn¡¯t sure if they could even see.


    ¡°Peg leg,¡± he explained. ¡°I¡¯m Nathan Feleke, by the way. You might have heard of my brother, Lord David Feleke.¡±


    ¡°The name rings a bell, yes,¡± the magistrate said wryly. ¡°Lord Feleke, perhaps you¡¯ll ride with us the rest of the way? I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find more comfortable accommodations behind walls?¡±


    Nathan waved at him vaguely. Ride with them? He wasn¡¯t even sure how he was going to get off this damn tree.


    ¡°I hope you aren¡¯t in a hurry,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Found your leg, Sir,¡± a new voice called from behind him. Nathan craned his neck until he spotted a second group, two men and a woman in respectable civilian clothes. They were just walking over from the road. One of the men held the remains of Nathan¡¯s peg leg, held together by only a few fibres of wood.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, did I catch that right? Can we ask for an interview?¡±


    Oh joy. The press was here.


    ¡°Not right now.¡±


    Couldn¡¯t they at least wait till he was back on the ground?


    He had to tie his rope to the branch and let himself down that way, then hop around on one leg to collect his walking spear from where he had tied it to Sore¡¯s saddle, and search for a second stick. Just as the magistrate caught himself enough to order a guard to support Nathan, Nathan found himself a suitable branch to use as a crutch.


    ¡°Apicella is the name,¡± the magistrate introduced himself, once Nathan was able to move around a little better. ¡°You were up there when the monster attacked?¡±


    Nathan nodded absentmindedly. He was searching the ground while there was a little light left. ¡°She could pass as human perfectly. Had a fake silver coin prepared, too, to sell the masquerade. And an amulet¡­ Ha! Found it!¡±


    He had to drop his stick, bent over carefully, then dig the sunburst out of the mud, grab both the jewellery and the brach again while holding on to the spear for balance. The guards crowded around him, but nobody seemed quite sure if they should touch him. Nathan fumbled around until he managed to juggle everything so he could stand securely while viewing his find.


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    It certainly looked like real silver. Quite nicely shaped, too.


    ¡°So you didn¡¯t know you were in danger until she attacked?¡± the oldest of the guardsmen broke the silence. ¡°What were you doing up in that tree?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I knew there was a real crazy bastard around,¡± Nathan replied, turning the amulet around in his hands. ¡°She killed two other experienced hunters,¡± Nathan added, ¡°left their bodies behind for me to find. So I wasn¡¯t exactly sanguine when I saw a woman alone riding down the road just before sunset.¡±


    ¡°And this amulet didn¡¯t convince you?¡±


    Nathan shrugged. There was no sign of where the silver sun had come from, no helpful engraving hinting at a silversmith. ¡°The fake coin was a good trick,¡± he said. ¡°But she had that aura¡­ All the older monsters have one, not all of them can hide it. So I dropped a silver dart at her, and she ripped off my leg.¡±


    He put the pendant into a pocket and searched for the coin. He couldn¡¯t find the bloody thing, and he really wanted to know what it was made of.


    ¡°Your Lordship?¡± Apicella asked, following him as he hobbled towards the street.


    ¡°I need to find that coin. Perhaps we can find out where it came from. What it¡¯s made of, at least.¡±


    And he needed to pee, and drink something, and maybe see if he had any opium left.


    But the coin first.


    Apicella clapped his hands, making Nathan jump.


    ¡°What¡¯re you waiting for?¡± the magistrate called to his guards. ¡°Give his lordship a hand!¡±


    The men promptly spread out to search the ground. One of them found the tiny piece of metal in the other direction from the tree, caked in mud. It looked just like any other coin to Nathan, but it didn¡¯t quite have the weight. Anyone who held it would know it was fake.


    Nathan closed his fist around it and sighed, then turned to the magistrate. ¡°I¡¯ll need a few minutes. Perhaps, in the meantime, your men can figure out a way to take the dead werewolf with us? I¡¯d like to see if I can get statements from the villages. Maybe someone recognizes her. She wasn¡¯t new¡ªwasn¡¯t unsettled, so I need to know where she came from.¡±


    He barely heard what the people around him were muttering. He was tired, and in pain, and even up in the tree, he would have liked to get a few more hours of sleep.


    This was the point in a hunt where you really needed someone like David. Someone to keep you going and on track. At the very least a partner like Andrew who¡¯d argue back if you got stupid¡ªand everyone got stupid after a day of three of no proper rest. Even David.


    Nathan had no idea how deLande had done it alone for so long. Maybe she¡¯d just been lucky longer than most. It certainly sounded like her final chase after Morgulon had been pretty stupid.


    Stupidly lucky.


    Nathan swung himself away, behind a tree to pee, wash out his mouth with water, brush the worst dirt from his clothes. He wanted a bath. He did not want to deal with the press in his current state.


    He really needed to start packing replacement legs.


    And he needed a better stick.


    And¡­


    Nathan took a deep breath and swung himself back. The guards had hacked down a small stem to tie the she-wolf¡¯s body to, but as so many people, they seemed loath to touch the corpse.


    One of them did hand Nathan a sturdier, longer stick with a nice fork on the top, that he could wedge underneath his armpit. Could use some padding, but at least he didn¡¯t feel quite as unsteady as before.


    ¡°You can touch the body,¡± Nathan sighed. ¡°It won¡¯t turn you werewolf. Don¡¯t let the blood get under your skin, and all will be fine.¡±


    How many times had he told people that? It seemed so obvious to him.


    But people were still scared to just touch the blood soaked fur, even with gloves on. Nathan would have tied the giant wolf to the pole himself, but he wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d be able to get up again.


    ¡°Just get some ropes,¡± he grumbled. ¡°You can use mine, from the tree, if you didn¡¯t bring any. Trust me, I¡¯ve cut dozens of werewolf throats and had the blood run down my hands. It¡¯s not a problem.¡±


    How long to the village? And how long would he have to stick around? How long until he got some answers where the mad one had come from? Was the magistrate right, and there¡¯s be a place to sleep there? Was that too much to hope for, to sleep in a real bed tonight?


    The reporters sidled over again as Nathan watched the guards work. The two men wanted to see the amulet and coin, while the woman had found the remains of the werewolf¡¯s dress and had questions about the high quality of the fabric.


    Not that Nathan had any answers. He let them have a look at the fake silver, then asked himself: ¡°Mind helping me get my horse saddled?¡±


    He had to ask for help to get into the saddle, too, but once he was up, Sore followed his hand willingly. Better than Bairn would, really.


    Finally, they were off towards the village. By now it was late enough and dark enough that Nathan really hoped there were no more werewolves around. It wouldn¡¯t have been an issue on full moon, but tonight?


    They stopped briefly at the dead sheep, still rotting next to the street. The old guardsman and the journalists kept questioning Nathan on everything that had happened, even as Apicella told his man that Nathan could simply have David write him a Crown Warrant.


    Clearly, that wasn¡¯t a satisfactory answer. It probably wouldn¡¯t have appeased Nathan, either. Still, he cursed inwardly as the questions kept coming.


    The village really couldn¡¯t come fast enough.


    Nathan almost groaned in relief when the palisades appeared in the distance. A few birds circled overhead, but other than that, all looked quiet. Only when they stood almost in front of it could the group see that the gate stood open a crack.


    Nathan raised his head wearily, but the old guard was already getting out of the saddle. He reached out to knock or open the gate, then froze in the motion.


    ¡°Sirs,¡± he said, voice suddenly hoarse. His hand shook a little as he pointed at his feet. At the water running out from underneath the wood.


    Except it wasn¡¯t water.


    Water wouldn¡¯t be that red, not even in the torchlight.


    Fuck.

 Chapter 148

    ¡°Well, go ahead,¡± the magistrate ordered his man. ¡°Open it up, man. We¡¯ve got to see what¡¯s going on.¡±


    Nathan thought he already knew. He had seen it before. Not often. But he had seen what happened when a werewolf pack went on a rampage.


    He still wasn¡¯t ready for the destruction that revealed itself to them when the guard pulled open the gate.


    Even knowing the terrible strength of the beasts, he hadn¡¯t expected this. Not from a single she-wolf.


    One building was on fire, and nobody even tried to quench the flames. The fire and darkness threw everything else into a terrible relief. The dirt mixed with the blood of the dead. Bodies littered the main street, human and animal alike. The surviving life stock wandered around aimlessly. No doubt there was more death just out of sight: The doors had been ripped out of several houses, and where the doors had held, the mad beast had gone through the thatched roofs, even the walls.


    A woman sat on the steps in front of her smashed door, arms wrapped around a bundle. Nathan couldn¡¯t tell if there was a child inside or just a dead body.


    A couple of cows were wandering down the street, both of them smeared in blood.


    ¡°Five frozen hells.¡±


    The swearing journalist made Nathan jump.


    ¡°Lord Feleke,¡± the magistrate asked, voice shaking, ¡°are you sure this was a single werewolf? It looks like an army went through here!¡±


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t a werewolf,¡± Nathan said quietly. ¡°This was a monster.¡±


    ¡°But¡ªbut how? In all my years as an investigator¡­ I have never seen anything like this! Even gang wars don¡¯t get this bad!¡±


    Nathan bit his lips. If he told them, would that make it better or worse? If he described how a werewolf could chew through logs, bite even into steel, spitting out the wood chips and blood and broken teeth¡ªonly to transform and keep going¡ªwould it even change anything in the face of a whole village, murdered in a single night¡ªno, a few hours?


    ¡°The curse,¡± was all he said.


    He looked around the village again. They should be helping, shouldn¡¯t they? Look for survivors, check on that woman right there?


    At least stop the dogs from eating the dead?


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like this, either,¡± he admitted, swinging himself forwards a step, stopping again. ¡°This isn¡¯t¡ªnormal. Not like other mad werewolves.¡±


    ¡°Because hunters used to prevent this.¡±


    One of the journalists said that, and it wasn¡¯t a question.


    ¡°No,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Other werewolves do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    It made sense, didn¡¯t it?


    Nathan took a deep breath. ¡°There was an old woman living just outside this village,¡± he said. ¡°Everyone knew she was a werewolf. She was strong enough to keep monsters like this at bay¡ªmonster like this, and the Rot, too. Even as she grew old, the most this beast dared to do was bite a girl and run away.¡±


    ¡°So what happened then?¡±


    ¡°The villagers killed their own protector.¡± Nathan shook his head. ¡°She even told me about it. That she hid amongst the people, whispering to them. Whispering lies to them. Until they listened and then a group of them went and  murdered the old woman and her husband. A week later: This.¡±


    He nodded towards Apicella. ¡°Those murders were why the magistrate was called in, by the way.¡± He sighed. ¡°Not that it matters now. We need to help them. Look for survivors. Don¡¯t worry about whether they got bitten or not, they¡¯re not dangerous until their first full moon.¡±


    With that, he swung forwards, to the woman on the stairs. Her face was blanc, but there was a sound coming from the bundle in her arms. Not a body, then.


    ¡°Are you hurt, miss?¡± Nathan asked.


    She just stared past him, rocking slightly.


    ¡°Miss?¡± Nathan repeated. What did you say in a situation like this? What could you tell a woman who had lost everything?


    ¡°The monster is dead. I killed it. I¡¯m sorry I was too late.¡±


    She blinked, slowly, but that was all the reaction he got from her. So Nathan swung himself around her, looking her up and down. If she was bleeding, it wasn¡¯t enough to stain her clothes.


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    ¡°She laughed,¡± the woman said, just as he was about to turn away. ¡°She laughed and then she turned. She bit my baby and left me and laughed.¡±


    Her arms tightened around the softly whimpering bundle in her arms.


    Classic spreader tactic. Nathan didn¡¯t say those words, though. ¡°Your child will be fine,¡± he said instead, and prayed to whatever justice there was in the world that it was the truth.


    ¡°She¡¯ll¡ªshe won¡¯t turn?¡±


    Nathan closed his eyes. ¡°She¡¯ll turn. But she¡¯ll be fine. You can come to Deva with me, when I go back. We¡¯ll¡ªwe¡¯ll work something out.¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer, so he left her sitting there, moving to the next house. There were three bodies inside. Small bodies. He tried not to look too closely. Adult bodies crouched behind the broken back door in the next one, then more dead children. In the stables dead animals, cows, sheep, chicken¡ªherding dogs who¡¯d died defending their flocks, horses. Only the goats with the missing ears had been left alive.


    What a sick bastard.


    He did find survivors, hidden in closets, or crying with the pain of their bites. At least the monster had had enough restraint that those bitten weren¡¯t at risk of bleeding out.


    It almost made him regret shooting her so quickly.


    Time rushed together, and suddenly it was midnight. The rain let up, and the journalists had made soup in the biggest kettles available to them, feeding the terrified survivors. The dead werewolf had been put up on an open cart. The survivors¡ªjust under two dozen¡ªkept wandering by, as if they couldn¡¯t quite believe she was dead.


    Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.


    One of the guards carried a bowl of soup for Nathan up to the cart. He pulled himself up to sit next to the body and eat his food.


    Should he ask the reporters not to write about this? But it didn¡¯t seem likely that they¡¯d heed him, and in any case, how was he supposed to explain a dozen people all bitten in the same night? How was he supposed to silence them?


    He could just about see how much harder this situation would make David¡¯s job. And Greg¡¯s life. How he could help, he had no idea.


    All he was good at was killing werewolves, and it hadn¡¯t been enough, here. He simply hadn¡¯t expected this level of escalation. He¡¯d thought the mad one would go after the magistrate, not the village. Not after leaving the people here alive for so long.


    Was there anything he could have done to prevent this?


    ¡°Lord Feleke. What will your brother do to prevent carnage like this in the future?¡±


    Nathan glared at the female reporter who stood in front of him. ¡°David doesn¡¯t even yet know it happened once,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°But surely, there will be a response? Clearly, the model of letting werewolves run wild has failed here?¡±


    ¡°As I said already,¡± Nathan replied, ¡°this wouldn¡¯t have happened if there had been other werewolves in the area. It couldn¡¯t have. Our mistake wasn¡¯t to let the werewolves run wild, our mistake was to collect too many of them in Deva and Eoforwic.¡±


    ¡°You did say that already. But I have a hard time believing that. What reason would a werewolf have to stop another werewolf from killing humans?¡±


    ¡°Are you stupid, miss?¡± Nathan asked bluntly. ¡°Nobody has a bigger interest in stopping wild monsters from killing humans than another werewolf. One beast goes on a killing spree, and suddenly all werewolves in the country are in mortal danger. It¡¯s pure self-preservation.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°A few days ago, I accompanied a pack of ten exceptionally powerful werewolves to the train station. I didn¡¯t realise the danger that would put the people here into, or I would have left a couple of them here.¡±


    ¡°So you are going to put the protection of humans into the fangs of werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Did you not hear about what happened on the solstice at Deva Palace, miss? Or Oldstone Castle?¡±


    She glared at him. ¡°You know what I mean, Lord Feleke. At least I hope you do.¡±


    ¡°I know what you mean, I just think it¡¯s a stupid question,¡± he shrugged. ¡°Our lives are in the werewolves¡¯ hands, have been since pretty much forever. Especially in this area. If it wasn¡¯t for the werewolves, the Hafren¡¯s Rot queen would have been rampaging through these lands ever since the Valoise invaded. The question should be what we¡¯re going to do now that the majority of werewolves have been gathered at a few big cities.¡±


    ¡°And what are you going to do?¡± she asked with false patience.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m not a politician. I kill werewolves until they¡¯re dead. I¡¯m sorry I was too late here. I thought I could draw her out by spreading word about the magistrate. Didn¡¯t expect her to go off like a firecracker and just kill everyone.¡±


    He pushed a piece of carrot across his bowl. ¡°I suppose we need more hunters. Most left for the south, to fight with the loyalists. Two of our better ones got killed here. My brother is bound to Deva, my father is out of the game, Lady deLande I¡¯m not entirely sure about. About to get married, I suppose. Maybe she¡¯ll help out.¡±


    ¡°And where would you go looking for new hunters?¡±


    Nathan shrugged again. He had no idea, but that probably wasn¡¯t a good thing to say to the press, was it? People wanted answers, and he couldn¡¯t even blame them for that.


    ¡°Where do you look for soldiers?¡± he asked back. ¡°You draft some likely lads and train them up. Show them how to handle a gun and how to fight in formation. Frankly, I¡¯ll take lasses, too. As apprentices,¡± he added, when the journalist looked at him blankly.


    That was the best thing he could do, right? He couldn¡¯t continue to hunt alone, and he couldn¡¯t steal Ronon or Lafayette away from their duties, either. And Andrew had wanted out before this whole mess even started.


    So find someone who wanted to learn. Teach them like he had been taught. Ideally, find someone who already knew how to shoot straight, but teach them the rest. Take them to the cells, make them sit with Morgulon or Pierre for a few hours, have them debate Greg on philosophy, or something. Teach them to respect but not to fear. Teach them to hunt only the bad ones and leave the others alive.


    ¡°So you do agree we need more hunters.¡±


    ¡°For now,¡± Nathan shrugged. ¡°More hunters. But really, we just need everyone to know more. Educate the village elders, the general population. Get rid of that ridiculous notion that humans could ever survive in Loegrion without werewolves, teach people how to properly deal with them. How to spot the signs of a mad one and what¡¯s just the regular full moon rage. So I¡¯ll take apprentices. Two, maybe three. Teach them until they¡¯re ready, and then they can take on a couple of apprentices, and so on.¡±


    He finished his soup and slowly leaned back.


    ¡°Lord Feleke!¡± the journalist protested. ¡°You aren¡¯t going to sleep right there, are you?¡±


    ¡°Unless you know where I can find a bed,¡± Nathan yawned. ¡°I¡¯m tired. The guardsmen seem to have the situation well in hand. Tomorrow, I¡¯ll escort the survivors to Deva. If you¡¯ve got more questions, you can ask me then.¡±

 Chapter 149

    It was a sad group of people reaching the end of the railway line the next afternoon, most of them newly bitten, many of them just kids. Nathan prayed to the pale moon in the pale grey sky that the learned men of Deva university were right, that their chances of going through the change and coming out fine was better than those of the adults. He did not want to have to kill half a dozen children.


    And if any of the conductors tried to charge them for tickets, he would not be responsible for his actions.


    Lucky for them, the people working on the railway had some decent survival instincts. They took one look at the group and offered to send a message from the next station, then got them a wagon all to themselves. The rocking of the train finally lulled the whimpering baby to sleep, and the sheer novelty of the travel method distracted some of the other kids from their misery, too. Nathan watched them, wondering if there was anything he could do to help, beyond making sure David knew not to put them into the dungeon with the prisoners¡ªnot that David wouldn¡¯t have thought of that on his own.


    He was waiting for them in Deva, with a special train to Windish ready to go. And a leg for Nathan.


    The farmhouse was getting really cramped, but it was at least better than the cells. Even if Pierre¡¯s pack grumbled about it. They stopped when they saw the children, the mother holding the crying baby with the fresh bite mark.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Pierre asked quietly, looking at David, who promptly turned to Nathan.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to hear that, too.¡±


    ¡°You really don¡¯t,¡± Nathan muttered. But there was no point in putting this off.


    ¡°I failed, okay?¡±


    He threw his hands up, walked a few steps, even though every movement hurt. Sitting still would have been worse.


    ¡°I screwed it up. There was this mad bitch¡ªkilled Big Bart and Little Roy, left the bodies for me to find. Killed a bunch of sheep, too, and hacked off the ears of every goat she found in broad daylight. I thought I could draw her out by spreading word about the magistrate coming into town. And it sort of worked, except she slaughtered the whole village first. Humans, animals¡­ Those people are the survivors. All of them¡±


    Silence fell in the room. Malinda glared at him, rocking the baby in one arm and rubbing the mother¡¯s back with the other.


    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s a conversation better taken elsewhere?¡± Monroe asked archly.


    Nathan swung around, out the door. He stopped on the path, looking around, until he spotted a narrow bridge. That had to be where Annabelle had bathed George Louis. He picked that direction without waiting to see who had followed him.


    ¡°Big Bart and Little Roy are dead?¡± David prompted after a moment.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°And the werewolf?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right. She¡¯s dead, too. Too strong for her own good.¡± Nathan rubbed the back of his neck and explained everything that had happened. And then the problem, too: ¡°There were three journalists with me when we arrived at the village. They saw it all, the dead, the destroyed houses, the bitten.¡±


    ¡°Mithras!¡± Pierre cursed. Someone else gasped.


    Nathan stopped to look over his shoulder. Annabelle. Monroe had followed, too. The elders exchanged a long look, words unspoken.


    ¡°How much is this going to hurt us?¡± Pierre asked for them.


    ¡°I¡­¡± David shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. This is¡ªawfully bad timing. Rust¡¯s pack is coming back the day after tomorrow¡ªwe¡¯ve been planning that event for weeks now. It should be a huge triumph, the whole Stour valley cleansed¡­ But this is bad. What paper were they from?¡±


    ¡°Something from Deeshire,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Don¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°Grooch will know how to find out,¡± David said softly. ¡°But it might take a day for the story to be spread, depending on how big the paper is¡­¡± He trailed off. ¡°I need to get back to the palace. Get everyone settled here, Nathan, then go home. I¡¯ve got to talk to Greg, and Grooch, and¡ªand I guess George Louis, too.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s one more thing,¡± Nathan said. ¡°I know it¡¯s not going to be much, but, uh, I told the press I¡¯d take apprentices. And I think it would be best anyways. With Big Bart and Little Roy gone.¡±


    David blinked at him, then nodded. ¡°Right. Yes, that¡¯s a good idea.¡± He cuffed Nathan in the arm. ¡°Take care. I¡¯ll see you tonight.¡±


    Nathan looked after him. David didn¡¯t quite run away, but it was a close thing. The elders exchanged another look, then Annabelle huffed and pulled her dress over her head. Before the fabric had hit the ground, she was in her wolf body and jogging after David.


    ***


    Greg looked up from his table. ¡°Mr. Howell?¡± he asked. ¡°David didn¡¯t mention that he would bring anyone, did he?¡±


    ¡°How do you mean, Sir?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a werewolf in the palace,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s not just the ones in the dungeon?¡±


    Greg nodded. ¡°Very sure. It¡¯s one of the elders. Not Morgulon or Pierre. But a lot older than me.¡±


    He got up and walked over into the main office, to tell Grooch, too. He¡¯d barely opened his mouth when the door opened, too, and Annabelle trotted in, David right behind her.


    ¡°Mr. Grooch, please have a runner sent for His Highness,¡± David said. ¡°Let him know it¡¯s quite urgent. We have a bit of a situation on our hands.¡±


    ¡°One that involves Annabelle?¡± Greg asked, confused.


    I¡¯m just here to help, Annabelle said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll explain when the runner is back,¡± David said. ¡°Or George Louis gets here, if he¡¯s available.¡±


    They didn¡¯t have to wait long.


    ¡°This better be really important,¡± George Louis grumbled upon entering. ¡°Unless you missed¡ª¡±


    Whatever he had meant to say died in his throat as he spotted Annabelle.


    ¡°The hells is she doing here? What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve had a village murdered last night,¡± David sighed. ¡°By a werewolf,¡± he added, and explained the rest of the problem.


    ¡°You know, I really want to say ¡®I told you so¡¯,¡± George Louis grumbled when he finished.


    ¡°Except that you didn¡¯t,¡± David snapped back, ¡°and if you had, it wouldn¡¯t change a damn thing. Did I know this was possible? I did, yes. I¡¯ve seen the aftermath of the Clouchester attacks. I¡¯d argue that was worse, if only because it was a small town, not a village.¡±


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    Greg blinked at the sudden outburst.


    ¡°Annabelle,¡± David changed the topic abruptly. ¡°Nathan reckons that this attack was only possible because the villagers killed the elder werewolf that lived close by. Is that true? Or is the timing coincidence?¡±


    If the attacker wasn¡¯t true-wild, then yes, an elder could have prevented this.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to get the press to write about that,¡± David said. ¡°Greg, do you think if you talk to Mr. Higgins, he¡¯ll help again? Talk to his father?¡±


    Greg nodded slowly. ¡°I think he will, yes.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t sure how many more times Mr. Higgins would be willing to intercede with the free press on their behalf, but for this? He hopefully would.


    ¡°Good. You¡¯ll need to do that as soon as we¡¯re done here. Any other ideas?¡± David added, looking from George Louis to Annabelle to Grooch.


    George Louis pressed his lips together. Greg wondered if he was going to help at all, given his feelings for werewolves, but then he said: ¡°If you¡¯re going to use the press, have them write about the Stour valley, too.¡±


    Maybe remind people of the Rot queens, Annabelle added. If werewolves are scary, find something even more scary. How¡¯s the war going?


    ¡°Not great,¡± George Louis admitted when Greg translated the question. ¡°Oh, I see what you¡¯re getting at.¡± He barely glanced at Annabelle. ¡°Counter fear with fear. I agree, it¡¯s more likely to work than portraying your kind as some kind of¡ªsaviours from your own evils.


    I hope you are aware that even if you can get the one or more papers to play along, not everyone will buy into it? There will still be protests, possibly more attacks. And, of course, there absolutely cannot be any werewolves in the city without a hunter on guard.¡±


    ¡°Geordie,¡± David started.


    ¡°Don¡¯t Geordie me, David. Fine, if you want to take the risk, let him run around unguarded. But people know there¡¯s a Feleke who¡¯s a werewolf.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all looking out for him¡± David sighed, shaking his head.


    ¡°And how¡¯s she getting back to Windish?¡±


    David shrugged, looking at Annabelle. ¡°Want to go home with me tonight? Nathan can take you to Windish tomorrow. Or I¡¯ll ask Andrew.¡± He paused, then added: ¡°If you really want to, I can take you back tonight.¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow is fine,¡± Greg translated. He glanced at the duke, then back at David. ¡°I¡¯ll get going?¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡± David said. ¡°See if the Higginses will print our version of things. We¡¯ll pass on some of the war casualties to the competing houses. I reckon they¡¯re more likely to run the bad news than the good ones.¡±


    An hour later, Greg found himself at Mr. Higgins¡¯s parental home. It was quite a bit bigger than the Feleke town house, and Greg was glad, so very very glad, that he was here with his teacher. Mr. Higgins senior was one of the richest citizens of Deva, and as owner of one of the largest printing houses in the country, not a good man to make an enemy of.


    He did appear to dote on his youngest son, and Greg spent the rest of the afternoon talking to reporters, editors and lectors, dictating stories and working out a strategy in which order they should run them.


    At least they would all be true stories, he told himself.


    He still didn¡¯t like it. And as the duke had warned¡ªit wasn¡¯t a perfect solution. The story from Deeshire hit Deva with the evening editions. By the time Greg walked home, there was a protest forming in the square in front of the palace. Greg buried his hands in his pockets and pulled his hat deep into his face.


    He had a bad feeling about all this, but he got home all right.


    ***


    A few hours later, Greg jerked out of sleep, woken by the noise outside. Something clattered against his window. A stone?


    ¡°Werewolves out!¡± somebody screamed, followed by: ¡°No monsters in our city!¡±


    He should probably be surprised that it had taken this long.


    It still made for rather uneasy sleep. Nobody bothered to wake him, so David was long gone to work by the time Greg went down for breakfast, yawning and rather annoyed. They were quiet for now, but from the window of his room, he could still see people milling about in front of the house. Some of them held up crude paper signs, demanding ¡°death to monsters.¡±


    The dining room didn¡¯t have a window to the street, but Greg was still looking over his shoulder when he entered.


    ¡°Ignore them,¡± Imani said. ¡°They won¡¯t dare do more than shout.¡±


    Easy for her to say.


    ¡°Is anyone going to do anything about them?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Nathan told them he¡¯d shoot anyone still standing in front of the house when he comes back from Windish tonight,¡± Andrew said. ¡°It did thin the crowd somewhat. David said he¡¯d talk to the head of the city guard, too.¡±


    ¡°Right. But what do we do¡ªlong term? Fear of the watch might drive these people away today, but I don¡¯t think¡ªwe¡¯ve been leaning on the press yesterday, but is that going to be enough?¡±


    He glanced over his shoulder again, even though that only showed him the big painting of Imani¡¯s ancestral family seat, far, far away. He had used to dream of visiting one day. Today, he couldn¡¯t even picture himself in that sunny, warm land to the south.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking perhaps Nathan had the right idea,¡± Bram said.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to shoot the protestors?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry? Oh, not that idea.¡± A thin smile appeared on their father¡¯s face. ¡°No, I was thinking about his idea to take on an apprentice. Perhaps you¡¯d like to help?¡±


    Greg was a bit relieved that Andrew looked as surprised as he felt at their father¡¯s announcement.


    ¡°If you think it¡¯s going to help,¡± Andrew said slowly, ¡°of course I¡¯ll help. You¡ªdon¡¯t think Nathan can do it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he should do it,¡± Bram said. ¡°He¡¯s the best hunter David can currently call upon. If he has to worry about a couple of greenhorns following him around, it¡¯ll only slow him down. If you and I were to take on a small group, five or six perhaps, we can train them up, teach them the basics, before they go out into the wilds with Nathan.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so you don¡¯t want to go out hunting? Only do some teaching?¡±


    Bram swirled his cup of tea. ¡°No, I think we should go after real werewolves, too,¡± he said slowly. ¡°It would be easier, since there would be two of us. Do you remember how it was when you first started? We took easy warrants, and David stuck with you the whole time. We start like that, and once they¡¯ve proven themselves, they can go with Nathan.¡±


    Andrew and Greg exchanged a look. This sounded nothing like the quiet, somewhat tired old man they had gotten used to over the past few months, the one who wouldn¡¯t even touch his crossbow.


    ¡°And you¡ªyou are sure you are fine with hunting again?¡± Andrew asked carefully.


    ¡°I may be rusty, but yes, I think I can still hold my own,¡± Bram replied. ¡°And I¡¯m counting on you to have my back, too.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Andrew said promptly.


    ¡°Oh, so now it¡¯s suddenly fine?¡± Greg growled.


    Bram gave him a blank look. His own anger at the announcement surprised him. It angered him more that Andrew didn¡¯t seem mad at all, just confused.


    ¡°Why¡ªwhy does some random idiot get to go hunting with you, get proper training and experience, when I didn¡¯t?¡± Greg went on. ¡°Why wasn¡¯t I good enough to go with you, until suddenly there was nobody else to pick up the slack?¡±


    He didn¡¯t even notice the way he was shaking until Thoko reached out to put her hand on his. Morgulon¡¯s presence hung heavy behind him, but this wasn¡¯t some kind of weird issue with the wolf. This was just him. Just the pent-up anger that had never felt appropriate to vent.


    It was bubbling up now. Greg tried to take a deep breath, turned his hand underneath Thoko¡¯s so he could grab hers, but the red haze didn¡¯t lift. It was stupid, to get upset over something so little, something so trivial compared to everything else that had happened. Stupid and embarrassing for him to lose his composure over this, years after the fact.


    Bram looked at Andrew, then Thoko, then back at Greg. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, staring out of the window. ¡°I¡ªthought that was obvious by now,¡± he said slowly. ¡°We knew there was no glory or honour in what we did, and we knew there would be no satisfying answers to the questions you¡¯d be sure to ask. We simply hoped that if we played for time, you would follow Andrew straight to university, or possibly find your place at court. We were¡ªembarrassed, nothing more.¡±


    Embarrassment. What a stupid thing to lose his whole life over.


    ¡°I am sorry, Greg,¡± Bram added.


    Sorry, huh? Well, he was sorry, too. But Thoko¡¯s hand on his was starting to calm him down. He had told Morgulon that he wouldn¡¯t view his daughters as a mistake. Meeting Thoko was the same, wasn¡¯t it?


    But speaking of mistakes.


    ¡°So you were embarrassed. And yet you want to go back to that line of work?¡±


    Bram spread his fingers on the table top. ¡°It¡¯s the only thing I really know how to do. And this time, it will be different, I hope. Moreover, it should calm some of the public¡¯s fears.¡±


    ¡°It will also make it look like you were just waiting for an excuse to get back to hunting,¡± Greg complained, if a little halfheartedly. ¡°Which¡¯ll cast doubt on everything else David had told the people.¡±


    ¡°I would be happy to talk to the press,¡± Bram said promptly. ¡°And set them straight.¡±


    Right. What was the saying? Actions speak louder than words? Would it really help to have more hunters out there? But on the other hand, the people needed some kind of reassurance that tragedies like this wouldn¡¯t repeat themselves, would they?


    What a mess.


    Greg ducked his head as if that could make him escape the attention of all the other people in the room. He already felt foolish for the outburst. Foolish and tired. Nobody could change the past. It wasn¡¯t worth getting upset about.


    He just wished the future would look easier.

 Chapter 150

    Rust and his pack arrived at Deva¡¯s Western Gate at daybreak. In the front came two carts dragged by werewolves and piled high with the carcasses of destroyed Rot-creatures. Behind that display followed the rest of the pack looking human. They even had put on the uniforms, though David was sure that Lord Clermont would have had a comment on their ¡°grooming standards.¡±


    David silently thanked the stars that he had suggested bringing in the destroyed Rot-monsters a while ago. It somewhat quieted the people protesting at the city gates against the large pack entering the city.


    He wished he could have stopped the protestors, or even better, thrown them all in jail. He didn¡¯t want Alvin and the rest of the pack to see the signs demanding their death¡ªor leashes for all of them. But George Louis was probably right that suppressing the protest would only lead to riots later.


    Not everyone was clamouring to have the werewolves locked up, luckily. Inside the gates, everyone who could take the time off work had turned out to line the streets. To see. To have a look at the creatures that had dominated the news for so long. To cheer them, too. Or at the very least, to cheer the destruction of the Rot.


    It was a good thing George Louis was for once not offering free beer to all the citizens; alcohol would only have made the situation more volatile.


    There were still plenty of vendors selling mostly non-alcoholic drinks to the crowd. Though the selection left a lot to be desired, in David¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Beechnut-brew!¡± a peddler called. ¡°Get it hot! Fresh beechnut-brew, better than coffee!¡±


    ¡°Want me to send a servant to get you one?¡± George Louis asked.


    ¡°No,¡± David growled.


    He didn¡¯t like the whole situation, though he had to admit that there had been no way to prevent this. And who knew, maybe this would alleviate some fears. Make people see that the monsters they feared so much could be regimented. Under control. Useful.


    Between the refugees fleeing the war and the massacre just outside Deeshire, they could certainly use some good news-


    Now that the Stour valley was safe, at least there was room for all these people to go.


    George Louis made a big speech about all the arable soil they had recovered and the many types of wine he wanted grown in the valley, and nobody threw anything at him while he did. He even remembered to thank the werewolves and promise them some paper money, then left it to David to pin the medals to each werewolf¡¯s chest.


    The duke did spring for a rather lavish breakfast at the palace¡ªin the officers¡¯ mess hall¡ªbut stayed absent from the feast.


    Not that Rust and his pack particularly cared for his presence.


    ***


    Alvin joined David at his table as soon as he had a plate full of food. While most of the werewolves were still wary of him, the youth chattered away excitedly, telling him about all the battles the pack had fought against the Rot. It was good to see him unharmed and chipper. David wouldn¡¯t have sent him in the first place, had he known about the Rot-queen of the river.


    Unlike George Louis, Picot did make a short showing, and so did Desmarais. Lord Clermont on the other hand had travelled back from the front just for this occasion. As a result, there were quite a few junior officers present, too, who probably hoped to impress the general by bravely intermingling with the werewolves.


    If that was their plan, it didn¡¯t work: Clermont was focused on Rust. The general was still talking to the elder by the time David decided to take the risk and left the little gathering to check on the werewolves in the cells.


    It was the first time that there were any unchained werewolves in the palace without a hunter standing guard over them. If anyone noticed, they didn¡¯t come looking for David to complain about the situation. There was no sign of anything being amiss when he returned a couple of hours later to escort them to Windish.


    David didn¡¯t understand what a mistake it had been to leave Lord Clermont unsupervised with the pack until a fine morning a few days later. When he had fought his way past the protestors outside the gates, there was another commotion on the parade-ground. On the spot where d¡¯Evier had called forth the Rot last summer, a group of werewolves were training. With guns. A fairly large group, too. Rust stood in the first line, but it wasn¡¯t just his pack.


    Men only, though. They were all in the uniforms they¡¯d been issued, and a human drill sergeant was yelling at them, even if he didn¡¯t insult them as he likely would have regular recruits.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a test.¡±


    David spun around when Lord Clermont appeared at his side. ¡°A lot of officers don¡¯t think it can work, either. They don¡¯t trust that the werewolves can submit to the discipline of the army. If nothing else, I hope you will agree that disproving that notion is a worthwhile goal.¡±


    David wished that ¡°lack of discipline¡± was the worst thing people thought and said of the werewolves.


    ¡°I suppose,¡± he grumbled. He still didn¡¯t like this, but it didn¡¯t look like the werewolves were here against their will. Quite the contrary, the ones David could see were more focused and eager than the troops that usually trained here.


    And half the palace appeared to be watching them.


    ¡°If you deploy them anywhere, I will go with them.¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    George Louis would kill him, if Imani didn¡¯t get to him first. But there, he¡¯d said it. Out loud in front of half the court. There was a susurration all around, and some werewolves turned to stare at him. Especially Rust and¡ªwait, was that Alvin?


    Yes it was.


    The kid was what, sixteen? How dare they¡ªAll the regular soldiers were eighteen at least!


    ¡°The boy volunteered,¡± Clermont said as soon as David rounded on him. ¡°They all did when I broached the idea. Quite gratifying, really. I understand their potential is mixed, but they have caused quite a stir. Again.¡±


    ¡°I see that,¡± David groused.


    ¡°Are you serious about fighting with them?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    A moment ago, it had been just a way to escape the bloody bureaucracy, but now that he had spotted Alvin¡ªyes.


    ¡°Hm. I¡¯d have thought that would interfere with your responsibilities here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave Nathan in charge.¡±


    ¡°Your brother who was injured at Oldstone Castle? Well, I suppose that would work.¡±


    David grinned wryly at that. Nathan would kill him. But he asked: ¡°So do you have plans to field the werewolves as soldiers?¡±


    Clermont shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll have to talk to the officers in charge first, ask their opinion. Why don¡¯t we leave the men to it and go to my office to discuss the matter?¡±


    Well, that wasn¡¯t ominous at all. ¡°Lead the way,¡± David said.


    It was a bit of a walk, climbing the many stairs and crossing the endless hallways. David greeted the servants he knew and a handful of nobles they came across, but Clermont walked in deep silence. He unlocked his office door and waved for David to take a seat, taking place behind his desk himself. There was a pistol lying on top of it, which he gripped, examining it briefly. Some new design, as far as David could tell.


    ¡°Breech loaded revolver,¡± Clermont explained. ¡°Six shots, combustible paper cartridges. No more fiddling around with caps and powder, and the paper burns without a trace. Cuts your reload time in half, at least. The question is if they can produce these cartridges in big enough numbers. Still, quite ingenious.¡±


    He fiddled with the weapon some more, before he went on, more softly: ¡°Quite ingenious indeed. Just not good enough.¡±


    The general stared at David for a long moment, then got up again, checked the connecting door to his secretaries¡¯ office, as if he was worried one of them might listen at the keyhole.


    ¡°How many werewolves could we field?¡± he finally asked. ¡°If we wagered it all. How many are there?¡±


    David frowned. ¡°A couple of hundreds, I suppose. But what¡¯s the point?¡±


    ¡°Soldiers that won¡¯t fall to bullets? Just think of the psychological effect!¡± The general rubbed his neck. ¡°I had hoped for a thousand, at least,¡± he muttered. ¡°What if you ignored that five months precaution?¡±


    ¡°I thought you don¡¯t want monsters in your army. What¡¯s all this about?¡±


    The old general stared at the door again. ¡°We are going to lose,¡± he finally said, softly.


    David frowned. ¡°I thought the war had barely started.¡±


    Clermont sighed. ¡°We can¡¯t take back Port Neath, Lord Feleke. Not fast enough, at least. The loyalists picked the place well; it¡¯s been fortified with mighty walls and they have plenty of cannons. I can take the city, don¡¯t get me wrong. But I¡¯d have to sacrifice half the soldiers of Loegrion to do it before the Imperial fleet gets here, and then who¡¯s going to fight the Sun King¡¯s armies when they land? But if I had a battalion of soldiers that can take a direct cannon hit and still keep going¡­ Well, that would change any battle.¡±


    ¡°How do you know they can take a hit like that?¡± David asked, suspicious.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t done any tests,¡± Clermont said, waving his concerns away. ¡°But I did speak to Rust after their arrival. And I heard the one called Morgulon shrugged off a direct shot to the chest just the other week at your home in Brines? Or was that rumour exaggerated? Your mother herself mentioned it.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s true,¡± David said softly.


    ¡°And on new moon night, too,¡± Clermont added. ¡°I understand that most other werewolves will be more vulnerable that night. But it is an advantage we will have to use.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± David considered that. He hated it. And he hated that Alvin had somehow gotten himself mixed up in this. But he did understand the importance.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think a werewolf will survive a direct cannon hit,¡± he added. ¡°Cut off the head, and they¡¯re dead any night of the month. That¡¯s why hunters used to deliver heads at the very least as proof of kill. I reckon a smashed head would work, too.¡±


    Clermont shrugged. ¡°But they can survive bullets.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Lead bullets at least. I don¡¯t know about their human shape, but I¡¯ve had one come at me in its wolf shape with six shots in its flank, once.¡±


    ¡°I thought hunters don¡¯t use bullets.¡±


    ¡°Professionals generally don¡¯t,¡± David shrugged. ¡°It was a long time ago. Back during the last plague, I don¡¯t know if you were around for that. There were a lot of desperate people trying their hands at it who had very little clue what they got themselves into.¡±


    Clermont frowned at him. ¡°There hasn¡¯t been a plague on Loegrion soil in ages.¡±


    ¡°Seventeen years,¡± David shrugged.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said. How old are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll turn thirty-one in a couple of months. I had just turned fourteen when I started hunting,¡± he added, since Clermont was clearly wondering.


    The old man shook his head. ¡°I wish I had soldiers with that kind of experience. At least a few officers.¡± Clermont sighed. ¡°Veterans still fit to fight. That¡¯s the problem. The only people in our army who have experience are old. Oh, we have a lot of recruits, even volunteers, of all ages. But we have few veterans.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m no soldier, either,¡± David said. ¡°Still, I have a hard time believing the werewolves are best used as musketmen?¡±


    ¡°Rust said the same thing,¡± Clermont leaned back in his chair. ¡°And seeing how he¡¯s got all the experience I could ask for, fighting as both human and werewolf, I would be following his advice on this, believe me. In fact, I¡¯m considering making him an aide on my command staff. Problem is, according to what he told me, werewolves would be best used as irregulars, harassing the enemies supply trains, targeting their communication lines, maybe some hit and runs on command posts. And I¡¯m absolutely going to keep that in mind, but there is no way to harass a city wall. If we fail to take that damn port, I¡¯m going to have them form packs and make them run off every horse and donkey the Valoise try to bring over, but if we fail to take that damn port, I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s going to make much of a difference. You see my problem?¡±


    David nodded slowly. ¡°So you want them to break the walls? How?¡±


    ¡°First I need to see how they follow orders, if this idea is even feasible at all. If it should turn out to be workable, well, I¡¯m working on a plan for them to take out one of the garrisons. I can let you in on the details, once I have them.¡±


    ¡°I would appreciate that,¡± David replied. ¡°Will you be staying here until they are ready to deploy?¡±


    The old general shook his head. ¡°I need to keep an eye on the situation in the south. Thank the Sun for the railway.¡±


    His one eye bore into David¡¯s. ¡°If you are serious about accompanying the troops, I would advise you to start training a replacement for yourself right away. And then perhaps present yourself to Major Bourne. He¡¯s in charge of the training regiments here at the palace.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± David sighed, pushing out of his seat. ¡°I¡¯ll prepare Grooch for the worst.¡±

 Chapter 151

    Word travelled fast in the palace. David was just about to enter his office when he ran into Nathan.


    ¡°Are you really going? Who¡¯s going to take over here?¡±


    ¡°You are. And I might not leave at all.¡±


    ¡°Screw you. I told you, I¡¯ll take on some apprentices, and I can handle the werewolves. But I¡¯m shit at dealing with humans, and the rest of this job.¡±


    David pushed the door open. ¡°So am I. Get inside.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re better at it than I,¡± Nathan grumbled, but he went ahead.


    Grooch rose to his feet as David followed. ¡°Lord Feleke, are you really going¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± David growled. ¡°I just talked to General Clermont, and if he fields the werewolves¡ªwhich I think he will¡ªI¡¯ll be going with them. For the sake of formality, Nathan will take over the department. I haven¡¯t talked to him yet, but I believe we can count on Greg to do the heavy lifting. I¡¯ll talk to Lane, too, to see if she¡¯d be willing to at least nominally take charge.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s face lit up briefly at that thought, but then fell again. ¡°Think that would work though? Not that she can¡¯t do it, but would the old men around here accept a woman in that position? Executing prisoners isn¡¯t exactly lady-like¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see. We should have people for that sort of thing, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Which we still have no budget for,¡± Grooch muttered, not quite inaudible.


    David bared his teeth at him in a wide grin. ¡°Ah, but Mr. Grooch, General Clermont just cut our expenses by a good chunk. The werewolves training down in the courtyard are soldiers now. Their pay is going to have to come out of the army¡¯s coffers, not ours.¡±


    ¡°Does¡ªdoes Clermont know that?¡±


    ¡°He knows how recruiting works,¡± David shrugged. ¡°And he really, really wants the werewolves. I¡¯ll bring the matter up in today¡¯s lunch-meeting, but I doubt the general will complain.¡±


    Grooch sat down behind his desk again. ¡°How many werewolves were recruited? Do we have numbers? Names?¡±


    ¡°I expect the army to have them,¡± David said. ¡°I reckon there were about fifty in the courtyard this morning, but Clermont wants to draft more anyways.¡±


    Grooch flipped through his papers. ¡°I¡¯d really appreciate it if you could come to an agreement with Lord Clermont today, something to give us some planning dependability going forwards.¡±


    David nodded. He couldn¡¯t wait for all these money issues to be someone else¡¯s problem. Judging by Nathan¡¯s face, he wasn¡¯t eager to inherit them. He glared at David, then looked around the room, blowing out his cheeks.


    ¡°Where is Greg?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°Seems like maybe he should be here, if we¡¯re going to dump this in his lap.¡±


    ¡°Meeting Prof. Audenne,¡± David said. ¡°Probably with Mr. Higgins. Should be back soon.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be thrilled to hear you¡¯re leaving.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t really be helped,¡± David sighed.


    ¡°Sure it can. You could just stay.¡±


    ¡°We do need the werewolves at the front,¡± David pointed out. ¡°And the deal was that if it ever comes to that, I¡¯ll command them.¡±


    ¡°And you want to get out of the office.¡±


    David considered denying it, but there didn¡¯t seem to be much point.


    ¡°The whole palace is talking about it,¡± Grooch said. ¡°It would not be a good look to back out now.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± David assured him. ¡°Alvin is going. I won¡¯t¡­¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I owe it to them to go. All of them.¡±


    ¡°What about Greg?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°Greg?¡± David rolled his eyes. ¡°Greg seemed quite happy to work here. And you¡¯ll be fine, Nathan. It¡¯s not going to be forever. Not even for long. You can do a year or two of government work.¡±


    ¡°Says the man who¡¯s leaving this post after just six months,¡± Nathan grumbled.


    David didn¡¯t really have an answer to that. ¡°Did you pick your apprentices yet?¡± he changed the topic.


    Nathan glared at him. For a moment, David thought his brother would continue the discussion, but then Nathan just shrugged. ¡°Working on it. Why, you got a candidate?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep my eyes open.¡±


    ¡°Right. You do that. Anything you want me to do in the meantime?¡±


    David looked at Grooch. ¡°Anything on the schedule today?¡±


    The secretary hesitated. ¡°No?¡± he said slowly. ¡°Nothing I would want to bother your lordships with,¡± he added.


    ¡°Only the werewolf, huh? Fine. In that case, perhaps you could check on Windish, see how Lee¡¯s new friends are settling in?¡±


    ¡°I can do that,¡± Nathan said, looking relieved.


    For a brief moment, David considered asking Grooch what exactly he didn¡¯t want to bother them with, but then he decided against it. He could always help out if Greg complained about it later. ¡°Anything you need me to sign?¡±


    ¡°I did place a stack of documents on your desk, Sir.¡±


    So David spent a good half hour signing and sealing documents¡ªwith the new seals, which looked like the tip of the old, broken arrow he had used to use, with some additional lines to make them harder to forge. It had been a huge pain to inform everyone about the change. Captain Reed had even sent one of his lieutenants to make sure that this time, it wasn¡¯t a more elaborate forgery.


    Sometimes, the captain¡¯s diligence was annoying, but David had to admit he preferred it over the laissez-faire attitude of some of the other officers he dealt with. He might even have suggested the man for a promotion, had he had the authority to do so. At least Reed never made the same mistake twice. Alternatively, he might have tried to get the captain away from First Camp for his own office, except that with Reed there, at least they could be certain the ¡°forest front¡± was well managed.


    Which wasn¡¯t a small thing.


    David scanned another order to Breachpoint¡ªGreg¡¯s handwriting¡ªbut generally, his brother and Grooch knew much better what to do than him, anyways. Especially when it came to the bloody paper money.


    ¡°Your Lordship, it¡¯s time for your meeting with the dukes,¡± Grooch interrupted his thoughts.


    David raised one hand to show that he had heard the man, then signed the orders and sat back with a sigh. He really wasn¡¯t looking forward to sitting down with George Louis, Desmarais, and whoever else the dukes had invited to today¡¯s lunch. Often, it was one of the Admirals, or whoever represented Clermont¡¯s command at the palace this week. If he was lucky, Clermont would be there himself, to back him up.


    George Louis was sure to be thrilled to hear about his plans.


    ¡°Sir?¡± Grooch asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m going, I¡¯m going,¡± David grumbled. At least the food at these meetings was always good.


    They were meeting in Duke Desmarais¡¯s chambers today. The guards at the door let David pass without a second glance, and the servants bowed to him with a smile. Their faces darkened when the next Lord followed right behind David: Marquess Picot. As one of the northern Lord Wardens, he was a frequent guest for these meetings. David wasn¡¯t exactly happy to see him, either. He disliked the man on personal grounds and he still didn¡¯t know if the Marquess hadn¡¯t tried to have him killed in that stupid duel with deVale.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Or any of the werewolves.


    But since he didn¡¯t know, he bowed to Picot and let him walk first into the actual meeting room. Greg had mentioned that he had earned himself a reputation for stiff formality, and it couldn¡¯t hurt to cultivate that further. Especially since he had no idea how else formality was supposed to look like.


    Desmarais was already waiting with his wife, Lady Ariane. She had taken to attend more and more of these gatherings. With them was Admiral d¡¯Aubigny, who looked tense. That didn¡¯t bode well, David thought. D¡¯Aubigny was in charge of the small fleet of airships that was getting them most of their intelligence. If the fleet of the Valoise was ready to launch, Lord Clermont might not get the time he wanted to train the werewolves before they would need to be deployed.


    They might not be able to retake Port Neaf in time.


    Young Lord Rover followed right behind Picot. David managed not to roll his eyes at the sight. The kid was doing his best, but he had just turned seventeen. He had inherited his father¡¯s title and position at a difficult time.


    Thanks to who ever had murdered his father.


    The Marques de Burg was next, Lord Warden of Southshire. And a fairly distant relative of General Clermont, for all that he called the general his uncle.


    Yes, David had checked the genealogy. Well, he¡¯d asked Grooch about it.


    David bowed deeply to all the much higher-ranking lords, and Clermont, too, when he showed up. The last person to stomp into the room was George Louis, who clearly had already caught the rumour. He glared at David and didn¡¯t acknowledge his bow.


    At least it wasn¡¯t the full council attending today.


    As soon as all the high-born nobles, David and General Clermont had sat down, the servants began bringing in the food. It was a feast fit to feed a much larger party, as always when Desmarais was hosting. Today, it was his wife who gave a brief toast before they dug into the first course. Some kind of fish soup with fresh mussels delivered on the railway line from Deggan.


    ¡°So,¡± George Louis interrupted the silence halfway through the soup course, ¡°before we turn to the latest rumour that¡¯s stirring the court, I hear there is news from the sea, Admiral?¡±


    ¡°The enemy is getting ever better at detecting and destroying our ships and airships, Your Highness. But yes, there is news. It appears the Western Fleet has been reinforced with parts of the Southern Fleet. Because of the aforementioned reasons, there is no way of telling whether the whole of the Southern Fleet is to be moved northwards, or whether the enemy is about to launch the armada against our shores.¡±


    ¡°All the more reason to proceed with our plan,¡± General Clermont grumbled. He glared at George Louis from his one eye. ¡°We have to take Port Neaf before the Valoise land.¡±


    ¡°And you want to use the werewolves for that?¡± Duke Desmarais asked.


    ¡°They are our only trump card at this point,¡± the general pointed out. ¡°If we do not field them, we may have to fight the Valoisian expeditionary forces on open ground. That¡¯s not a fight we can win right now. They have more men, better trained and more experienced officers, and more cannons. It would take years, possibly decades to build an army that can face the Valoise in a fair fight. If it can be done at all. I suggest we do everything in our power to avoid giving them one.¡±


    ¡°So we will field monsters?¡± Marquess Rover asked.


    ¡°Unless you have a better idea?¡±


    The kid ducked his head. ¡°I was only thinking¡ªif we use the monsters, won¡¯t the Valoise use the Rot against us again?¡±


    ¡°They have no compunction against that in any case, no matter what the priests may say about it,¡± Clermont replied.


    ¡°So the question that remains is why Lord Feleke wants to go with them,¡± George Louis said icily.


    But before David could try to formulate why he had to go, Picot spoke.


    ¡°I believe such was the deal, Your Highness?¡± the Marquess said. ¡°At Oldstone Castle, General Clermont agreed to lead our armies under the condition that anything supernatural would fall under Lord Feleke¡¯s purview, if memory serves.¡±


    ¡°It does,¡± David said, for once glad for Picot¡¯s meddling. When George Louis only frowned deeper, he added. ¡°And I intend to honour that deal.¡±


    ¡°You better,¡± General Clermont growled.


    The other lords looked rather appalled by that. ¡°You aren¡¯t seriously considering dropping your post over this, uncle?¡± de Burg asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point. A deal is a deal. And dealing with the monsters is a distraction I don¡¯t need at this point in the campaign. It would be different if I had officers experienced in the matter.¡±


    ¡°So we assign one,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Surely, one of the commanders from the railway forces would suffice? Or the officers in charge of the werewolves guarding the coast? I don¡¯t see the need for Lord Feleke to personally endanger himself. Surely, finding a replacement who can oversee the department here will be harder.¡±


    ¡°Greg has done a perfectly fine job so far,¡± David replied.


    ¡°That¡¯s debatable,¡± George Louis grumbled, but David talked over him: ¡°And the werewolves who volunteered as soldiers will expect me to be there.¡±


    When he met George Louis¡¯s eyes, he was suddenly worried. Maybe they shouldn¡¯t be having this discussion in public, as nice as it was to have Picot and Clermont to back him up on the issue. He did wonder whether the duke would straight up order him not to go. And what would happen if he refused to obey.


    But it was de Burg who spoke next. ¡°That may be so,¡± the Marquess said. ¡°But won¡¯t the ones who¡¯ll remain have the same expectations? As His Highness pointed out, as capable as he has proven himself to be, a werewolf cannot currently replace Lord Feleke.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Lord Rover asked. He turned beet-red when every eye turned to him, but just like his father would have, he stood his ground. ¡°The whole point of the office is to find more werewolves to work for us, isn¡¯t it? So why can¡¯t a werewolf run it? Surely, that¡¯s the best advertisement we can ask for?¡±


    De Burg shook his head. ¡°That is hardly all Lord Feleke has been doing, Marquess Rover. We cannot give a werewolf command over a whole branch of government. Even if it¡¯s only a small one right now. That¡¯s a precedent we should not be setting, not without a lot more forethought.¡±


    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean he can¡¯t replace Lord Feleke for a few months,¡± Rover said. Stubborn like his Sire. ¡°Surely, even the werewolves will understand the importance of the battle currently waging at Port Neaf? Surely, humans will understand the principle of delegation?¡±


    ¡°Delegation still requires somebody to take responsibility at the end of day,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Someone fully human, preferably.¡±


    He glared at David.


    ¡°Nathan will do it.¡±


    Unfortunately, George Louis knew his brothers better than the other nobles. He gave David an arch look. ¡°Really. You already asked him? And he agreed to stay in the palace and take over for you?¡±


    ¡°I did talk to him, yes,¡± David replied calmly. ¡°He agreed to take on the responsibility as long as necessary. As Marquess Rover pointed out, delegation is an option open to us. And I believe that if I leave for the front, Countess deLande could be persuaded to step in. I hope nobody here is inclined to argue against her credentials for the post?¡±


    ¡°I have no doubt she would be an asset to the cause,¡± Duke Desmarais cut in. He glanced at his wife. ¡°Since we were talking about precedents. Are you sure Countess deLande would be interested?¡±


    ¡°Quite sure,¡± David said. ¡°Lord Clermont, since we¡¯re on the matter: Did the army hire the werewolves who were training in the courtyard this morning? In a formal sense, I mean?¡±


    ¡°In a formal sense? No, I didn¡¯t hire them. They volunteered.¡±


    ¡°But is the army going to pay them the same as regular soldiers?¡±


    ¡°Ah. No. I hoped you¡¯d take care of that,¡± Clermont said. ¡°Seeing how they see silver as a threat.¡±


    ¡°Surely the army could pay them with that new paper money?¡± Desmarais said. ¡°If you want them to volunteer in larger numbers. Possibly more importantly, we shouldn¡¯t make our regular soldiers think that having them bitten or replaced with werewolves would save us money.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think our human soldiers will feel undervalued if we pay them the same as the monsters?¡± Picot asked.


    ¡°They¡¯ll stop feeling that way the first time they see a werewolf shrug off a shot to the chest,¡± David said calmly. ¡°Until the Valoise learn to adapt and arm their men with silver, even a weaker werewolf is worth as much as half a dozen cavalrymen.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a tiny bit of an exaggeration,¡± George Louis said.


    The other lords and one lady stared at the duke.


    ¡°Does it? May I remind Your Highness that the werewolves have magic beyond their transformation? Beyond the full moon rage? It¡¯s well known that nothing short of cutting off the head will kill a werewolf, unless it¡¯s a silver blade. Or fire. Even with magic, it¡¯s hard to hurt them, as their immunity to the Rot shows. The healers at Oldston Castle can attest to the same. Even their magic barely worked.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly an advantage,¡± George Louis pointed out.


    ¡°Any magic will be weakened,¡± David repeated. ¡°Any wound not caused by silver or fire will heal with their next transformation.¡±


    ¡°Making them much more vulnerable on new moon.¡±


    David nearly snapped at him then. He knew the duke knew how valuable the wolves were. The contrariness was getting on his nerves.


    Clermont was faster, though. ¡°I do see the advantages,¡± he growled. ¡°That¡¯s why I want them for the army. If money is the problem, frozen hells, Your Highness you assured us that pay isn¡¯t an issue. Has that changed that we can¡¯t pay a few hundred men more or less?¡±


    ¡°No. We can pay them, quite easily.¡±


    ¡°Then what is the matter, Your Highness? If there¡¯s a problem Lord Feleke has kept from me, I¡¯d rather have it out with than this discussion of technicalities.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about the aftermath of the war, General Clermont. If we pay the werewolves as we pay regular soldiers, we acknowledge them in ways that¡¯ll be difficult to take back later. Do we want to live in a country where werewolves are considered equal if not the same as humans?¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Clermont said quietly. He glanced at David, shaking his head. ¡°Your Highness, do you want to win this war?¡±


    ¡°That is hardly the question here.¡±


    ¡°No, Your Highness, that is precisely the question. If you do want to win this war, pay your soldiers. All of them. After the war is after the war, though frankly? I¡¯m an old man. A bit stuck in my ways. And even I think it¡¯s recalcitrant, at this point, to try to stop the inevitable. The werewolves are here, and if they weren¡¯t, we wouldn¡¯t be either. For better or worse, the fate of Loegrion is tied to the fate of the werewolves. I¡¯d prefer it if you didn¡¯t damn us all just to keep them down.¡±


    David didn¡¯t look at George Louis. He wasn¡¯t sure if he could keep the smile off his face if he faced him. And he didn¡¯t think it would help his case¡ªor the werewolves¡¯¡ªright now to gloat.


    Even though he quite wanted to.


    ¡°I¡¯ll note your point, general,¡± George Louis said coolly.


    ¡°I hope you¡¯ll think on it, too,¡± Clermont grumbled. ¡°Or this¡¯ll be a short campaign.¡±


    He turned back to his plate. ¡°I do see now why you¡¯re so set on going with the werewolves, Lord Feleke.¡±

 Chapter 152

    David hurried out of the dining room as soon as Lady Ariana had the dessert course lifted. He wanted to talk to Greg about the next steps, and he very much did not want to talk to George Louis.


    He fully expected the duke to pay him a visit, but the man never showed up. Only one of the majors from the palace garrison dropped by with an aide, to figure out the best way to pay the werewolf soldiers.


    Which meant that David and Major Bourne sat down over a cup of tea. They ended up discussing the best way to get David as much training and command experience as possible before he might have to do it in battle, while Greg and the quartermaster figured out the pay. The quartermaster was jumpy around Greg, but didn¡¯t outright refuse to work with a werewolf. At least not while David and his commanding officer were in the room.


    ¡°Perhaps we might go down to the garrison?¡± David asked once the cups were empty. ¡°I don¡¯t want to steal your time, Major, perhaps someone else could show me around?¡±


    Mostly he wanted to know if Greg would be able to continue the work without him in the room, but the officer promptly assured him that he¡¯d be happy to introduce David around the officer¡¯s mess. And perhaps they could have a go at the training courts afterwards?


    The older man winked at David, and loudly complained how he wasn¡¯t as young as he used to be but still could hold his own against all the ¡°young hands.¡± He clapped David on the shoulder, and added: ¡°I¡¯ll be excited to test myself against you, Lord Feleke.¡±


    Greg grinned and waved after him.


    There were more officers hanging out at the mess than David had expected¡ªnot that he could fault them. It was a very nice place, a lot like an upscale club in the city. Dark wood panelling lined the walls, and modern gas lamps kept it from looking dreary. Asides from the tables and high-backed chairs, there was also a lounge for smoking and reading with comfortable couches and chairs. A couple of recruits were serving drinks to their officers, who didn¡¯t look all that much like ¡°young hands.¡±


    Though perhaps those officers who fell under that moniker were too busy to be smoking and day-drinking.


    David thought he did a decent job at smiling and shaking hands with all the aristocrats he was introduced to. There were only one lieutenant, and a couple of captains. Everyone else was a major or even higher rank, and subsequently, of high nobility. As he was being led around, David noticed three generals walk in.


    Major Bourne had him nicely boxed in between another major and a captain, and plied with some alcohol, before the generals sat down at the next seating group.


    It was clear the whole room was listening as the major asked: ¡°So how many of our soldiers are to become werewolves? Did General Clermont give a number? Set a quota? Or will we stick to the volunteers for now?¡±


    David put down his glass. ¡°What¡ªI¡¯m sorry¡ªwe have volunteers? Amongst the soldiers?¡±


    David had known, of course, that some people with diseases that left even the healers at their wits¡¯ ends were sometimes volunteering for the bite. But soldiers? Young and healthy men, shouldn¡¯t they be?


    ¡°There¡¯s a rumour,¡± Major Bourne said, ¡°that a man might regain a lost limb if a werewolf bites them. Some of the wounded who survived the battles at Port Neaf are asking about it. Is that rumour false?¡±


    ¡°Not¡ªnot entirely,¡± David said slowly. ¡°The result will depend on a lot of factors though.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± one of the generals asked, leaning over the back of the couch.


    David opened his mouth, closed it again, and tried to remember what exactly the professors had written about the issue.


    ¡°Well, did the doctors burn out the wound? Fire causes injuries the curse won¡¯t heal. Likewise, a healer¡¯s magic will get in the way, and if the Rot set in, again, even the werewolf healing falters. Certain alchemies might similarly affect the outcome. Ironically, the cheapest surgeons are the ones most likely to release a patient who qualifies to become a werewolf.¡±


    The officers looked at each other. Major Bourne grimaced, while others chuckled darkly. ¡°Most soldiers then,¡± Bourne said. ¡°Thank the fucking flame that the bastards stole so many of our healers away.¡±


    ¡°Might be worth narrowing the healers¡¯ down further in who they treat,¡± one of the captains said. ¡°Keep our options open.¡±


    So the invalids of the war sometimes volunteered themselves. David shuddered. The men wouldn¡¯t be at the brink of death by the time they could present themselves at the University of Deva to be considered. And anyone who wasn¡¯t about to die from their illness would be turned away, as per the rules Bram had helped set.


    David played with the glass in front of him. It had been supposed to be a precaution, to stop people from rushing into the coin toss. But he liked the idea of more volunteers. There was a limited number of non-violent criminals who got sentenced to death, and anyways, surely, a man who had volunteered to fight the Empire once would be more loyal than a man charged with treason?


    ¡°If at all possible, ask the soldiers,¡± David said. ¡°Ideally before they even go into battle.¡±


    There was a chuckle, and then a lot of incredulous looks once the officers realised that David was serious. ¡°This is the army, Lord Feleke. Not a democracy.¡±


    ¡°Yes, general,¡± David said. ¡°But I ask you to keep in mind that by subjecting them to the curse, you are also arming these men. No gun or pistol in our arsenal that you could hand a soldier is as dangerous as the power of a werewolf. I would not want to produce a bunch of disgruntled veterans who feel they have nothing left to lose.¡±


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    They did not have enough hunters to deal with another whole army of werewolves. They didn¡¯t have enough hunters to deal with the ones they already had, if it ever came down to it. But he wasn¡¯t going to admit that, not even here.


    ¡°Surely, that¡¯s an exaggeration,¡± the general said. ¡°A gun will kill a man just as dead as any werewolf.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and that¡¯s all a gun can do, general.¡± David sighed. ¡°A gun cannot create twenty more guns within a day. A gun does not make its wielder immortal to all but silver, magic, and fire.¡±


    A gun¡¯s power does not grow with every full moon, where the words he didn¡¯t say. If these officers didn¡¯t know, he wasn¡¯t going to tell them without talking to Clermont first.


    ¡°I see your point,¡± a different general said. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t answer the original question: How many werewolves does Clermont want?¡±


    ¡°He did not name a number yet,¡± David said. ¡°When we discussed the issue, he only spoke of the werewolves we already have. I was also given to understand the army had reservations against deploying them at all?¡±


    The officers exchanged a glance. ¡°Truthfully,¡± the same general went on, ¡°many of our officers worried that we were to pick men for what you called the coin toss. It¡¯s one thing to order a man to battle. It¡¯s another thing entirely to let Lady Luck sort them out directly. I know it¡¯s bothered our lieutenants greatly.¡±


    Given how quickly they had sat him down to discuss the issue, David guessed it hadn¡¯t just bothered the lieutenants. Not that he didn¡¯t understand the concern.


    ¡°If the matter comes up again,¡± David said slowly, ¡°I¡¯m going to advise General Clermont against picking active soldiers to turn into werewolves. For the same reason as I just gave. I will, however, see if we can make it easier for war invalids to volunteer.¡±


    Even if it meant finding yet another place to house them for the first five months. Putting volunteer soldiers up like criminals, that wasn¡¯t right, was it?


    He needed the army¡¯s support if he wanted to ensure George Louis didn¡¯t screw them over. It seemed to work, too. He felt the mood shift in the room at this promise.


    ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s time we visited the gymnasium next?¡± Major Bourne asked.


    David hoped that that was a peace offer. He couldn''t be entirely sure¡ªthe officers certainly didn¡¯t pull their punches, neither on the training grounds nor the shooting range. They seemed rather surprised that David knew his way around a pistol, too, even if he wasn¡¯t quite as comfortable with it as he was with the crossbow. Rifles and muskets, he was even less familiar with.


    In a way, that seemed to further endear him to the officer corps. He had his talents, and they were useful, but he wasn¡¯t the ¡°hero¡± the newspapers made him out to be, come to upstage them all.


    There was, however, one more pressing question they had: ¡°What rank will you enter the army at?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± David said honestly when the matter came up.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t even ask when General Clermont drafted you?¡±


    David wondered if there was a polite way of telling them that he didn¡¯t give a damn about his future rank. Probably not.


    ¡°As far as I know, it hasn¡¯t even been decided yet whether the werewolves will form a new regiment, join an existing one, or fight as irregulars?¡± he said. ¡°I figured it would also depend on the number of werewolves I¡¯m to command. Once we have made that decision, the rest will surely follow?¡±


    Bourne patted him on the shoulder. ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±


    David just nodded along as the officers discussed whether he should start as a captain or an even higher rank. They didn¡¯t even entertain the idea that he¡¯d begin as a lieutenant. It scared him a little, the rank and responsibility they wanted to add to the pile he already had. Turning it into a command position made it all more tangible, quantifiable.


    He really needed help.


    More help.


    ***


    By the time David got home, everyone was waiting for him. Imani sat on the couch, hugging little Hewan to her chest. Greg was right next to her with his other daughter. Bram had taken his favourite armchair, and Nathan and Andrew filled the others. Lane leaned against Morgulon¡¯s flank, down on the floor.


    Every single one of them looked up to stare at him when David walked into the drawing room. Nathan glared, Greg and Andrew looked resigned, and Imani and Bram worried. Only Lane grinned at him and asked: ¡°Do you already tire of me so much, fiance mine, that you have to run away to do battle?¡±


    David paused and blinked. ¡°Right,¡± he said, and managed a smile, too. ¡°It¡¯s the constant nagging.¡±


    ¡°This is hardly a laughing matter,¡± Imani chastised them, but Lane was unbothered.


    ¡°Seems like our only alternative is to cry about it,¡± she pointed out. ¡°I doubt David agreed to this just because he¡¯s so eager to fight the Valoise.¡±


    ¡°Not just,¡± David agreed.


    ¡°No, you also can¡¯t wait to get out of the office,¡± Nathan griped.


    ¡°Oh, shut up,¡± David sighed. ¡°You¡¯re not taking over, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°No? Who is, then? Greg?¡±


    ¡°Desmarais voted for Lane,¡± David shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt the more conservative nobles would prefer father, though.¡±


    He looked at Bram, who rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ¡°No, I think Lady deLande would be a better fit,¡± he said. ¡°If for no other reason than to shock the conservatives. If you are willing?¡±


    Lane absent-mindedly ran a hand through the thick mane on Morgulon¡¯s neck. ¡°I¡ªsure, I can do that,¡± she said. ¡°Especially if Desmarais is going to back me.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re going to do what, father? Simply continue staying home?¡± Nathan asked bluntly.


    Bram shook his head slowly. ¡°No, I¡¯ll admit I¡¯ve been doing that for long enough.¡± He sighed. ¡°I was thinking I would follow your example, actually, Nathan.¡±


    Now it was Bram¡¯s turn getting stared at, though, David noted, not by Andrew, Greg and Imani.


    ¡°You are going to take apprentices?¡± Nathan asked, sounding as doubtful as David felt. ¡°And take them hunting, too?¡±


    Their father looked straight at Nathan. A few years ago, there would have been a reckoning at Nathan¡¯s tone of voice. Today, Bram just nodded. He turned to David, too. ¡°I fully intend to take them into the field, yes. And if the need should arise again, hunt and kill the werewolf responsible.¡±


    Nathan opened his mouth, but then apparently thought better of it. ¡°Right then,¡± he said after a few seconds.


    David did wonder where that change of heart had come from, but instead he asked: ¡°Do you have anyone in mind, father?¡±


    ¡°Possibly. After word got out about Nathan¡¯s plans, I was approached by Lord Mire, who is concerned about the company his youngest son is keeping and seems to think that fresh air would do him good. I have not yet spoken to the young man in question, so we¡¯ll have to see.¡±


    It was a start, David supposed. He tried to recall Lord Mire¡¯s youngest, but drew a blank. Not that it really mattered. At least their father would be helping.


    More importantly, Nathan did not only know the kid in question, he also had a couple of suggestions of his own, which turned the conversation away from David.

 Chapter 153

    Greg stayed late at his desk the next day, trying to take care of some paperwork. Even Grooch had long since gone home, but Greg couldn¡¯t quite make himself get up and leave. It wasn¡¯t even that the work he was doing was particularly important or urgent¡ªhe was just cleaning up, taking care of some minor issues that he had meant to get to. David really couldn¡¯t wait to get out of his current job, so tomorrow, Lane was to take over the running of the department for him.


    She would probably be better at the job than David was. Especially when it came to the palace politics. And then there would be less for him to do, and less room for him to shine.


    It was a stupid thing to be bothered by. He should be glad that Lane was taking over, that it wasn¡¯t Nathan, or some stranger who might not even care about the werewolves.


    But it had been nice to feel needed, and to be in his element for once. He wanted to at least present a clean desk tomorrow.


    The gas lamps flickered overhead, and the small office was very quiet except for the scratch of his quill on the paper and the soft guttering of the candelabra on the table. The door to the main office stood open, and sometimes, he heard the bookshelves creak as they settled. Comfortable sounds, in Greg¡¯s ears. Indoor sounds.


    Less comfortable was the sudden scratching of something in the lock to the hallway.


    Greg nearly jumped out of his chair, splattering ink all over his papers. He clamped his teeth together over a shout. It might just be David, looking to take him home. Was there another protest in the city?


    But the scratching continued, as if whoever was out there didn¡¯t have the right key. So Greg pushed back his chair as softly as he could and stalked over to the wall, turning the valve that shut off the gas flow to the lamps. Then he hurried back to the table to quench the candles.


    Just as he heard the lock click, Greg managed to pinch the last flame from his candelabra, searing his fingers as he did. He sucked at his thumb and forefinger, moving over to the door and leaning against the wall right next to the connecting door.


    He could tell by the sounds of the steps that it wasn¡¯t David. Some kind of soft slippers that only swished over the ground, not the heavier trudge of boots. Grooch wore shoes like that, but the figure that entered the room was too heavy-set to be the secretary. The stranger held a candle, but their face was shadowed by the hood of their cloak. Their slightly pudgy shape made Greg think it was a man, but there was no way to be sure.


    The only thing certain was that they weren¡¯t supposed to be here.


    And what was he supposed to do now?


    Whoever the stranger was, they clearly weren¡¯t expecting anyone to still be in the office. All Greg could sense on them was a little bit of silver¡ªpossibly a small blade, but more likely a few coins, or perhaps some jewellery. So if it came to a fight, all they had to truly hurt him was the tiny candle flame, which was much more likely to flicker out than set his clothes on fire.


    But did he want a fight?


    Greg decided to wait as the figure went about the room. They were eerily certain of their steps, turning on the gas and lighting the lamps with their candle quickly before moving to Grooch¡¯s desk. With practised movements, they went through the calendar and files. They had a little notebook of their own, and Greg could hear the scratch of a pencil as they copied down entries before returning everything to the state they had found it in.


    Whoever this was, Greg had a strong feeling that this wasn¡¯t their first late-night visit.


    The intruder repeated the same procedure at David¡¯s table, going through all the correspondence that had arrived today and returning it exactly to its place. Then they searched the drawers, focusing on the topmost one. Greg happened to know that David kept the wax for his seals there. Not the seals themselves, though, not since that last issue. It seemed to frustrate the nightly visitor, which meant they probably hadn¡¯t been sent by Duke George Louis to spy on David.


    No, this was someone hostile.


    Greg made a decision, sneaking past the open door while the spy was focused on returning the table to its original state. He hid behind the door as well as possible. Just as he pulled his foot in, the spy grabbed his candle holder and walked over, to repeat the procedure on Greg¡¯s own desk. The stranger didn¡¯t bother turning on the gas light, squinting as he tried to read the budget allocation Greg had just spilled his ink over.


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    Apparently, it had been enough time for the ink to dry¡ªor the spy didn¡¯t see it glisten in the low light. They did stop when they noticed the open ink glass. Their head rose, and the hood briefly revealed a man¡¯s face. An unfamiliar one, though. The stranger looked around the room, frowning, and Greg stood as far behind the door as he could, holding his breath.


    The stranger stood for so long, Greg felt his heart beating harder and harder. But then the other man just shrugged and carefully arranged the quill and stopper for the ink glass as they had been. A good eye for detail, Greg thought. If not exactly great situational awareness. Or night vision.


    The spy moved to the last table. Check papers, take notes, put everything back as it was. And then, as quietly as he had come in, the man took his candle, checking the table surfaces to make sure it hadn¡¯t left any droplets of molten wax behind, and turned off the gas in the main office. Then he stood at the door to the corridor for a long moment, listening, before pushing back the hood and turning into just another scribe going home late at night.


    Greg took off his boots while he waited until he heard the key being pulled out of the lock from the outside, then he used his own key to open it again, as quietly as he could. In his socks, he tiptoed after the spy, hoping he would do him the favour of walking straight to the office of whoever had hired him.


    But no. That would have been too easy.


    The spy walked straight to the closest exit, leaving Greg to hurry to get back into his shoes. The guards glared at him and some reached for their weapons as he stumbled past them, but nobody attempted to stop him. Greg sniffed.


    Greg considered the empty street. It rained, and there were no protestors on this narrow alley. Nobody was clamouring for his head. In fact, it was very quiet. So much so that he briefly wondered if it was safe to change his shape, to follow the stranger with his nose. That would have allowed him to keep his distance, and his thick fur would have given him better protection against the spring rain pouring down, too.


    A week ago, he might have dared it. Before the whole mess at Deeshire. But now? Better not to risk running into the protestors.


    He couldn¡¯t let the guy get away, either, though. So he clumped through the puddles after him. It was a pain. He wasn¡¯t a hunter. He especially wasn¡¯t a manhunter. He needed to stick close so as not to lose sight of the man in the narrow alleys on the back of the palace, yet couldn¡¯t risk drawing attention by staying too close.


    Luckily, they had come out of the palace in the Artisans¡¯ Quarters, where the many smaller and larger workshops serving the palace were located. Even at this late hour, there were hammers ringing and machines rattling, and people out on the street. It made Greg a little bit less conspicuous, as he tried his best to stroll nonchalantly after the spy. It also gave the stranger small groups of people to vanish in, and a million and one back street, side alley, and backyard to dart through.


    The spy clearly didn¡¯t care for the rain, either. He had thrown his collar up and was hurrying along, almost jogging. Sometimes, Greg thought he could hear him breathing hard in the night.


    The stranger darted through the quarter, and then crossed one of the bigger streets leading away from the palace. The area on the other side was one of mixed repute. Greg knew that Mr. Higgins had some favourite haunts here, but the teacher had never taken him. Nathan, too, liked the casinos in the area.


    Greg huffed in annoyance when a couple of girls stepped into his way to offer their services. He swung around them rather than trying to tell them he wasn¡¯t interested. He was just barely fast enough to see the spy round another corner, and had to jog after the man.


    Maybe he should have just risked a fight in the office.


    He saw the spy turn into a throughway leading into a courtyard, and threw caution to the wind. He managed to follow him just fast enough to see him step up to a tavern. The sign above the door showed three dice and a red cup. Two burly men stood in front of the door, armed with big clubs. The spy pushed back his hood and talked to them briefly before he stepped aside.


    Greg¡¯s heart sank, but he took a second to catch his breath before he felt at this money pouch. Perhaps he could buy his way in?


    The guards watched him as he walked up to the door. He didn¡¯t know how to stroll, and nonchalant was the last thing he felt, so he didn¡¯t bother trying. Young noble on his first unsolicited visit in the ¡°bad parts¡± of town was much easier to play. At least he was dressed for that act.


    ¡°And what do you think you¡¯re doing here,¡± one of the guards asked when Greg came to stand in front of them.


    ¡°I saw the sign,¡± Greg said. ¡°This is a gambling hall, right? I want to play.¡±


    ¡°Got money?¡± the same man asked.


    Greg nodded. He kept his eyes fixed on the speaker and reached into his money pouch, fishing out two gold coins without looking. It was rather easy for him: The silver coins were cold to the touch, and the copper coins were much smaller. But he hoped that to the guards, it would look like the bag was almost entirely filled with gold.


    ¡°Good enough?¡± he asked, offering a coin to each of them.


    The doormen frowned and one of them bit into the coin, then spit on the ground.


    ¡°It¡¯s good,¡± he told his companion. ¡°Let him in.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get eaten, kid,¡± the other one warned him, but stepped aside.


    Greg clenched his teeth together to stop a giggle from escaping him. If only they knew.


    If they knew, they¡¯d never let him inside. But who expected a werewolf to walk around with a bag full of money?

 Chapter 154

    Greg did his best to channel Gustave at his most huffy as he entered the casino, striding through the door, down a short entry hall, and into the stuffy room beyond. Nathan would have loved the place: As he walked in, the first thing Greg spotted were two men at the bar, loudly egging on a third one who was drinking something straight from a bottle, face turning redder with every gulp he took. The rest of the room was filled with large tables, around which the patrons were seated. Greg saw card games and dice and there was one creaking roulette table, too.


    All in all, it wasn¡¯t a large casino. Nor did it look particularly upscale, but it was frequented by a surprisingly illustrious clientele. Was that Marquess Pettau? Why yes, it was!


    Well, well, well, what would the lord¡¯s wife say if she saw the pretty brunette youth at his side? And there was Picot, at a table with another man Greg was familiar with, even if the name escaped him for the moment. An older lord, wearing his uniform even here. David might know who it was. Finally, there was Lord Carter, and Count deVries. And over there, was that Bishop Larssen? Gambling was a rather interesting pastime for a holy man.


    Only the messenger was nowhere in sight.


    Greg took a deep breath to calm his nerves, retreating back into the small anteroom. He hadn¡¯t expected to run into quite so many suspects all at once. Or were they all in this together? It wouldn¡¯t surprise him. Carter? DeVale¡¯s friend, who also had contacts to the hunter Desantis, who had been part of the attempt on Morgulon¡¯s life. DeVries who had been named by deVale as another instigator of the duel, similarly Pettau, whose daughter had been involved in dragging David over to the fight, too. Larsson was a bishop of Mithras, for all that he had made a big show at Breachpoint.


    He even seemed cloaked in a soft shadow¡ªa sort of magical aura that Greg hadn¡¯t noticed at Breachpoint a few months ago. Maybe it hadn¡¯t been there. Or maybe his own sense of magic had sharpened since.


    And Picot was, well, Picot.


    Could he risk walking in there? There was no way Picot wouldn¡¯t recognize him. But if he just backed out the way he had come, would the doormen even let him go? Perhaps it was better to just walk forward and pretend?


    It seemed unlikely they had come to the casino armed with silver, and there was enough of a moon in the sky for him to turn wolf, if necessary. That made Larssen potentially the most dangerous of the bunch, right? If the bishop could walk through fire, he could probably conjure it, too? But the room was small, and assuming the priest didn¡¯t want to kill all his co-conspirators, Greg would probably be fine.


    He squared his shoulders and raised his chin and stepped forwards, right up to Picot¡¯s table. No point in hiding that he was here.


    At the bar, the guy who had just emptied the whole bottle of whatever it had been slipped off his chair and noisily collapsed on the ground. His friends stopped cheering, and Bishop Larssen got out of his chair to check on the man. Everyone else turned to stare, too.


    Greg couldn¡¯t have asked for a better moment. He ignored the magic flaring up from Larssen and walked forwards.


    ¡°Marquess Picot?¡±


    Greg got the satisfaction of watching the older lord jump in his seat. First there was surprise, then recognition, then a moment of abject terror, and then the marquess had himself under control again.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, what a surprise!¡± he called, beaming at Greg and getting out of his chair to offer his hand. The act was so good, it made Greg wonder if perhaps he had only imagined that fleeting expression of panic.


    Or perhaps he shouldn¡¯t fault the older man for it. Perhaps dread was just the natural reaction to turning around and having a werewolf stand behind you.


    ¡°Will you join us? Have a seat! What brings you out here tonight? I will admit, I wouldn¡¯t have expected a young man as upstanding as you to visit this place.¡±


    Greg took the chair Picot pulled out for him ¡°Thank you, Marquess Picot.¡± He ducked his head. ¡°I¡¯m here because of a bet,¡± he explained. ¡°A very old one, but, well, I was walking through the city¡­ Haven¡¯t been able to do that for a long time, you see? And I came across this place, and I remembered my brother betting I¡¯d never make it inside.¡±


    ¡°You brothers have been here?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªthink so. Nathan only really described the sign, but it looked like his kind of place.¡± He sat very straight, hands folded in front of himself, and smiled, letting his eyes travel through the room, from the unconscious man Larssen was bent over to the worn bar and the grubby tables. ¡°I¡¯ve only ever been to the casino at the palace,¡± he admitted quietly. ¡°With, uh, with my mother.¡±


    He glanced at Picot, trying to look embarrassed. It wasn¡¯t hard¡ªexcept for the bet, everything else he had just said was true.


    ¡°Nathan Feleke?¡± the man in uniform asked. ¡°Hah, I think I do remember seeing him here. You might just have come to the right place! What¡¯s the bet about?¡±


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    ¡°I don¡¯t remember, really. Two silvers was our usual wager.¡± He rubbed his hands. ¡°I¡¯m less interested in the money than just being able to say I got in, you know?¡±


    Picot patted him on the shoulder. ¡°No worries, you¡¯re in good hands. Though, if I may ask, how did you make it past those charming gentlemen at the door? I believed this place was invitation only?¡±


    ¡°I said I was here to gamble, they asked if I had money, I showed them gold,¡± Greg shrugged.


    Bishop Larssen returned to the table, grumbling about idiots and the demon drink and rubbing blood from his hands into a handkerchief. He had halfway sat down by the time he took note of Greg.


    ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡± he asked. ¡°No wait, you¡¯re one of the Feleke boys, aren¡¯t you? Which one?¡±


    Greg clenched his hands to fists, but looked the bishop in the face. ¡°The werewolf,¡± he said.


    The bishop raised his eyebrows. ¡°Well, that¡¯s unexpected.¡± He looked at Picot. ¡°And you know him?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s even more unexpected,¡± Larssen said dryly. ¡°You play cards? Hasards?¡±


    Greg looked at the dice already on the table. He reckoned the officer was the current shooter. He could do a round or two? It might even be fun, and perhaps he¡¯d be able to figure out where the spy had run off to.


    ¡°I enjoy hasards,¡± he said. ¡°But, uh, what¡¯s the banco?¡±


    He had used up a lot of his funds just getting in here. It would be nice to perhaps win something back¡ªprovided he got lucky. If he didn¡¯t¡­ how much could he afford to lose?


    The bishop seemed to read on his face what was going through his mind. ¡°We can pay out the bank,¡± he suggested, looking from Picot to the officer. ¡°Start over on a few silvers.¡± He paused to glance at Greg. ¡°Do you even carry silver?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Greg reached into his pouch, bracing himself. The wolf whined softly in the back of his mind, but the moon was a waning crescent, so it was easy to ignore. He flicked up the coin and made it walk across the back of his hands, like back when he had first set out as a werewolf.


    ¡°I thought that¡¯s supposed to hurt.¡±


    ¡°It couldn¡¯t hurt more if I did this with a piece of burning coal, yes,¡± Greg confirmed. ¡°For you, Bishop, I¡¯m sure the coal would be less painful.¡±


    He clenched his teeth and dropped the silver onto the table, pressing his palm against it as long as he could stand it. When he raised it up, the skin was bright red. The profile of the Roi Solei was vaguely recognizable in the lines in the centre of the circle.


    To Greg¡¯s surprise, Larssen promptly grabbed his hand, face grim. ¡°Give me that, boy. You needn¡¯t have hurt yourself to prove a point.¡±


    Greg let him take his hand. He didn¡¯t quite get what the bishop was talking about until the magic flared up. It was a peculiar feeling, somewhere between a tingle and an itch. The old man¡¯s frown deepened.


    ¡°Strange,¡± he muttered. ¡°It¡¯s just a burn, why is this resisting so much? I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t want to risk more magic¡­ not so close to that other idiot.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Greg said, ducking his head and pulling his hand back. ¡°It¡¯s fine. That¡¯s me. Being a werewolf, I mean. Magic doesn¡¯t stick easily. And, well, it is silver.¡±


    Larssen looked even more unhappy but let the point rest.


    ¡°You said two silvers was your usual wager?¡± Picot said instead, looking from the officer to deVries and Carter. ¡°How about it?¡±


    It was probably far less than the fine gentlemen usually played for, but the officer shrugged, and Count deVries nodded, and that was that. Greg played a game with them, focusing more on the room around himself than the game. Between rounds, he excused himself for the outhouse, taking the most long-winded way to the back door. When he sat down to place his next bet, he was reasonably sure that the spy wasn¡¯t present at the casino any longer. He had probably been in and out by the time Greg had made it past the guards.


    If either of the nobles around had been in contact with the stranger, they weren¡¯t giving a sign of it. Which meant he was wasting his time. He needed to get home and warn his brothers, now that the spy had gotten away.


    Greg did manage to earn at least one of his gold coins back. All in silver, but Larssen was nice enough to exchange it for him even as the others tried to talk him into staying longer. Just after midnight, Greg left the strange little casino again, walking home as fast as he could. As the rain pooled in his shoes, he resented that he couldn¡¯t just turn wolf to jog home. It would take a fraction of the time to get there.


    Perhaps he could find the spy that way? Could he return to the office, pick up the scent, follow it to the casino and see where it went from there?


    But he first needed to get home, pick up either of his brothers as a minder. Or hell, perhaps deLande could get started on the job.


    As long as the rain didn¡¯t wash away the smell. It wasn¡¯t like he was a bloodhound.


    ***


    Everyone was still up when Greg got home. Lane was hanging around, too. Scandalously.


    Thoko threw her arms around him, despite his drenched clothes, then complained: ¡°The hells have you been? We¡¯ve been worried the mob got you!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s been someone searching our office.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°A spy. There was a man searching our office. I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s done it before. He didn¡¯t notice I was there. I tried to follow him but I lost him at a casino by the Artisans¡¯ Quarters. We need to get back to the office so I can pick up the scent as a wolf.¡±


    ¡°You want to go into the city, in the middle of the night, and run around as a wolf for a bit?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°Did you go drinking without me?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± David interrupted. ¡°We need to figure out where this spy has been taking the information. Especially if this wasn¡¯t the first time. Maybe we¡¯ll finally learn who was behind all the attacks.¡±


    He ran a hand over his braids. He looked even more exhausted than usual, but he barely hesitated before adding: ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± Lane said at once.


    ¡°Let¡¯s have the horses prepared,¡± David said. ¡°I¡¯ll need to get us some guards at the palace, too. Can¡¯t risk walking into an ambush.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get changed,¡± Greg said.

 Chapter 155

    A few minutes later, Greg trotted over to the stables. David and Nathan were just climbing into the saddles. It was a strange moment, to stroll out the gate between David¡¯s gelding and Bairn. He¡¯d never moved through the city as a wolf before. The wet cobblestones felt slippery and uncomfortable underneath his paws and the buildings loomed over his head much higher than those of First Camp. The sounds of the night echoed strangely between them, and the avalanche of smells assaulting his nose was enough to make him dizzy.


    How was he going to stick to the right one in this plethora of stenches, odours, aromas and fragrances? Maybe this was a stupid idea.


    Just as they were about to jog off, the front door opened, and Imani stepped outside. She had Hewa in one arm, and held the door with the other for Morgulon to walk out. Lane followed behind in her riding skirts.


    Two noses are better than one.


    Greg rolled his eyes, but couldn¡¯t quite hide his relief.


    ¡°Really?¡± Nathan asked, as Morgulon crouched down so Lane could climb onto her back. ¡°Two werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Think it¡¯ll really make a difference if we run into anyone?¡± David asked back. ¡°Let¡¯s go. The faster we get this over with, the better.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just hope the mob doesn¡¯t like the rain,¡± Nathan commented.


    The night guard at the end of the street blew an alarm on his whistle before David could stop him. It took quite some fast talking to convince him that this wasn¡¯t some kind of sneak attack. The guard blew the ¡°all clear¡± still wide eyed and stinking of terror.


    ¡°I cannot wait for the guards at the palace to watch us walking up,¡± Nathan muttered. Thankfully, after they were out of earshot.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got to cross a couple of bridges first,¡± David replied. ¡°The guards can send a telegram ahead.¡±


    ¡°We could¡¯ve done that from your place, too, right?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Do you want to run back?¡± David grumbled. ¡°I didn¡¯t think of it until just now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m quite comfortable here, thanks.¡±


    Word did appear to travel ahead of them. Or perhaps it was simply the repetition of the panicked whistle signals quickly followed by a revocation that had primed the men guarding the bridge that something was coming their way. Or perhaps their officers simply recognized David riding a few yards ahead of them. There was a lot of shouting and men jumping into formation. Morgulon¡¯s hackles raised, but Lane calmed her down before Greg could even say anything.


    Were these some of the guards he had visited as a human on the last night of full moon? Greg thought they might be. And indeed, as he took the rapport, David waved him forwards. And then Morgulon, too, to introduce Lane as his deputy.


    Greg had to admit, David¡¯s poker face was getting pretty good. He managed to make it look and sound like there was nothing unusual at all about the countess taking the position, or her steed. The soldiers didn¡¯t all quite manage to hide their surprise, and in some cases, dismay. One of them did run off with David¡¯s order to send a telegram before they had even made for the bridge, so at least tonight, it was all good.


    The guards at the palace were still nervous enough that Greg and Morgulon could smell their fear as they walked up to the gates.


    They¡¯re aiming bows at us, Morgulon noted, sounding slightly amused. No silver though. Just normal arrows.


    Let¡¯s try to look harmless?


    Why?


    Lane can¡¯t just transform to heal up again.


    Fine. I won¡¯t bark at them.


    Greg¡¯s head swung around before he realised that Morgulon was joking.


    David smelled just as scared as he stood up in the saddle, but his voice didn¡¯t show a hint of that as he barked at the men: ¡°Stand down, soldiers. The next idiot pointing his bow at my fianc¨¦e will spend the next month scrubbing the cells of the unsettled werewolves!¡±


    ¡°Classic,¡± Nathan muttered as up on the walls, bows clattered. He didn¡¯t smell of fear at all. Some excitement, that was all. Lane on the other hand had been worried.


    David didn¡¯t exhale deeply until the doors to the palace closed behind them and they stood in the dimly lit entrance hall. And then he stopped breathing all together as Duke George Louis came striding into the entrance hall, followed by the steward of the castle, Lord Mire. Both of them were in their nightgowns.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, what is going on here?¡± the duke asked. ¡°It¡¯s the middle of the night!¡±


    ¡°My apologies, Your Highness, Lord Mire. I didn¡¯t expect the guards to rouse you. I just needed Morgulon¡¯s take on something.¡±


    ¡°In the middle of the night?¡±


    ¡°I do have some discretion, Your Highness,¡± David grumbled. ¡°She¡¯d have caused a mass panic during the day.¡±


    ¡°No doubt about that,¡± George Louis admitted.


    ¡°What about the other werewolf?¡± Lord Mire asked.


    ¡°My brother, Greg, Your Lordship¡± David replied promptly. ¡°Again, I apologise for the inconvenience. I would have shared everything relevant at our meeting tomorrow, Your Highness. Since you¡¯re awake anyways, perhaps I can offer you some refreshments at the office?¡±


    The duke nodded curtly, so David led the way. It was awkward, navigating the stairways and platforms on four feet. Morgulon, of course, was unbothered. Her ears were flicking with interest, but nobody was talking. David was stomping ahead, Lane at his side. George Louis had buried his hands in the pockets of his nightgown and was staring daggers at her back. Nathan was bringing up the rear, as carefree as could be.


    The silence ended as soon as the door to the office closed behind them.


    ¡°What in the frozen hells is going on here, David?¡± George Louis growled.


    ¡°Greg and Morgulon are here to pick up a trail,¡± David replied. ¡°Give them some room, would you?¡±


    ¡°What trail?¡± the duke grumbled, but he stepped back, leaning next to David against the empty wall behind Grooch¡¯s table. Greg ignored them as he tried to sort through the many smells in the room. David was easy, and so was his own smell. He sniffed around Grooch¡¯s chair, and then Mr. Howell¡¯s to eliminate those, too. That left two more fresh traces. One stayed in the main room, mostly around the visitor¡¯s chair¡ªa hint of black powder, leather, and blood.


    Clermont.


    The other one was so fresh Greg could tell where exactly the intruder had stopped to search the shelves. And just as he had worried earlier, it was a layered smell. The spy had been to the office regularly, quite possibly every few nights ever since David had taken the job.


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    That one? Morgulon asked as Greg sniffed around a spot. That¡¯s easy. Nice and fresh.


    It was raining outside for hours.


    We¡¯ll find this man, no worries.


    Greg wished he shared her optimism.


    ¡°You¡¯re good to go already?¡± Lane asked when Morgulon sat down next to the door.


    Morgulon sniffed and pawed at the door.


    ¡°Right. David?¡±


    ¡°Let me know what you find,¡± George Louis said, yawning. ¡°I¡¯m going back to bed, do feel free to wake me up.¡±


    ¡°Like your men won¡¯t report to you as soon as they get back,¡± David grumbled. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you tomorrow.¡±


    Greg went out the door first, a little confused. What men?


    You should listen more to what¡¯s going on around you. Morgulon sounded amused. The duke promised to send some of his own bodyguards with us. Apparently, there is no way this late at night to get soldiers without a lot of attention.


    That didn¡¯t surprise Greg.


    They met the bodyguards at the back entrance of the castle, where Greg and the intruder had left the palace a few hours ago. Six men on horseback, all of them armed to the teeth. Very inconspicuous.


    No doubt it wouldn¡¯t take long for word to get out about this. They better be quick, before the spy was warned something was up.


    As Morgulon had said, even with the rain, it wasn¡¯t hard to find the right smell again. She trotted ahead, then sped up to a jog. The clopping of the hooves on the cobblestones echoed in the night. The people still out and about in the Artisans¡¯ Quarters turned to stare at them, and there were shouts of alarm. The bodyguards moved up to flank Greg and Morgulon, which helped some. Made it look less like the armed people were after the werewolves and more like an escort.


    They hurried to the small casino where Greg¡¯s search had ended, then had to go around half the block to find the back door and pick the smell up again. At that point the rain started up again.


    ¡°Great,¡± Nathan complained.


    Morgulon already lengthened her strides. Greg hurried after her.


    ¡°Slow down, you two,¡± David warned. ¡°We need to be sure we kick the right door down.¡±


    Greg nodded, while Morgulon just snorted without slowing at all. She knew where she was going. Out of the amusement district, upriver towards a residential quarter. Not the most upscale one, but not a bad area, either. Then it was just a matter of finding the right house.


    Apparently, their spy had simply walked home.


    There were no guards waiting for them, no ambush, no Valoisian soldiers. Only a small terrace of a house, with a neat little front yard, looking just like its neighbours.


    ¡°So, do we kick the door down?¡± Nathan asked, sounding as dubious as Greg suddenly felt. It didn¡¯t look like the place a traitor would live at.


    But that was stupid. An effective traitor had to be well hidden.


    ¡°Let¡¯s knock first,¡± David said. ¡°The less attention we draw, the better. Hopefully, he¡¯ll come quietly.¡±


    He motioned to the guards to take position right and left of the entrance, then knocked against the wood. Painted a pale blue, Greg noticed. The tulips underneath the windows were just starting to bloom. It just looked so¡ªpeaceful.


    There was no answer.


    David tried again, hammering his fist against the door loud enough that Greg worried about the neighbours waking up.


    Still, no answer.


    ¡°Working great so far, brother,¡± Nathan commented.


    David ignored him. He was eyeing the guards instead. ¡°You¡¯re Duke Stuard¡¯s, right?¡± he asked, turning to the men. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to know how to pick a lock, would you? One of you at least?¡±


    The men chuckled, and one of them raised his hand.


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯d do the honours,¡± David said sourly. ¡°And perhaps volunteer something like that next time.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but the His Majesty wanted to see if you¡¯d ask,¡±


    David muttered something in reply to that that to Greg¡¯s wolf ears sounded suspiciously like, ¡°His Majesty can kiss my tired arse.¡±


    Judging from the way Morgulon was silently laughing, that had been exactly what he had said.


    The guard grinned and stepped forwards, producing a little bundle of crooked metal sticks. He fiddled around with the lock for less than a minute, then the door creaked. ¡°There you go, your Lordship. Quick and easy.¡±


    David didn¡¯t even smile. ¡°You there. Keep an eye on the street. Everyone else, with me. Quietly.¡± He glanced through the door, and added: ¡°Greg, you¡¯re first. Nathan, bring up the rear. Morgulon, Lane, stick close with me.¡±


    Greg threw his head around in surprise. He had thought David would take point himself. When he saw the narrow, unlit hallway behind the door, it made sense though. Whoever went first would be a walking target if there was somebody armed at the end of the hall. And he was the person most likely to survive, say, a load of lead to the face.


    And with that cheerful image, he padded into the darkness, listening hard. All he heard were the boots of the men following behind him. He pushed his head into the first room¡ªsome kind of reception, smelling faintly of cold cigar smoke. The spy¡¯s scent was layered in there, and so were a host of other people¡¯s smells. None of them fresh.


    David still sent someone in there to search the room as Greg moved down the hall. The next door led to the dining room, then came the stairs, half hidden behind them the kitchen. The dining room was empty, too. Greg hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for David¡¯s orders.


    ¡°Kitchen first. Lane, keep an eye on the stairs, please.¡±


    He¡¯s dead. Morgulon had stopped with Lane at the bottom of the stairs, sniffing. She whined softly, and before anyone could stop her, she darted up the stairs in two jumps.


    Lane cursed and hurried after her. Then cursed louder.


    ¡°What do you have?¡± David called after her.


    ¡°Dead body,¡± Lane called back. ¡°Hung from the rafters.¡±


    ¡°Mithras¡¯s flaming torch,¡± David growled. ¡°Greg, check the kitchen. You there, go with him. See if there¡¯s a cellar. Everyone else, upstairs.¡±


    The kitchen was clean, but in a surprising disarray. A rack of spices and jars of preserve had been emptied and spread over the table, the breadbasket was overturned, and the hatch to the cellar was open. So was the backdoor. Someone had been here very recently. Not a smell Greg recognized, though.


    He pushed his head down the trapdoor, sniffing around. Some dried mushrooms hung stringed from the ceiling, and there were gaps in the orderly rows of jaws full of preserve.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s been looking for something in a hurry,¡± the guard following him commented, turning a jar of marmalade in his hands. ¡°But what did they hope to find in the kitchen?¡±


    He put the jar down, and lit a light to see into the cellar. ¡°Huh, gaps on the racks down there, too. But why would someone grab food?¡±


    He closed the backdoor, throwing the bar onto the latches. ¡°Let¡¯s see what¡¯s upstairs.¡±


    Upstairs, the first room off the landing was a small study, already crowded by the werewolf and people inside. Greg stayed out on the landing: the body that was hanging underneath the ceiling was hard to miss. Someone had used a hook already up there¡ªprobably from a lamp¡ªto hang a noose. Morgulon stood pressed up to the desk underneath the window, and there was a chair lying on the floor underneath the body.


    David was just propping it back up to take the whole gory arrangement down.


    ¡°Someone bashed his head in,¡± he commented, sawing at the rope with his knife. ¡°I doubt he managed to kick over the chair after that.¡±


    He lowered the body down, and Morgulon came over to sniff it all. He never touched that rope, she noted. Not that anyone besides Greg could understand her. David could just hear her whine.


    ¡°You disagree?¡±


    Morgulon shook her head.


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°Someone¡¯s searched the kitchen, Your Lordship. Emptied the spice rack all over the table, and I think there¡¯re some jars of preserves from the cellar missing, too. Backdoor was standing open.¡±


    ¡°Was there any clue as to what they took?¡±


    ¡°Based on what was still there? Applesauce or pickled cucumbers, Sir. Maybe they were just hungry.¡±


    ¡°Right. Seems unlikely. Search the rest of the house. Hopefully, we¡¯ll at least find a clue who he reported too.¡± He turned to glance out the window. ¡°If you do find anything, report it to Lady deLande tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Not to you, Your Lordship?¡±


    ¡°Starting tomorrow, I¡¯ll be at Fort Brunich training with the werewolf volunteers.¡± David looked to the window again. ¡°And it¡¯s high time to leave for us. Given the protests we had, I want to have the werewolves off the streets before the good people of Deva start waking up.¡±


    Greg hadn¡¯t even noticed the time passing. But David was right. They needed to hurry. Even if it meant going home empty handed.


    He should have punched the spy as soon as he saw him.

 Chapter 156

    Lane wished it had been a longer night as they arrived at the palace. They had left for work late, and she had still barely caught a couple of hours of rest. Not that she looked like it. She was dressed up, even if it was a more conservative, prim and proper cut rather than something fashionable. Her hair was done up, too.


    At least one of the journalists waiting outside the palace gates whistled as David opened the carriage doors for her and offered her his hand.


    It was better than throwing rotten fruit. Not that the protestors filling the yard dared that. Not even when Greg turned his back on them. She still saw him flinch when someone yelled ¡°monster!¡± at him.


    David turned to glare at the crowd, but that was all he could do. He escorted Lane to her new office where he introduced her to his two secretaries, handed her the letter naming her his successor, and then went off to Fort Brunich, where the training for him and the werewolves had been moved.


    Lane smiled wryly after him. Greg rolled his eyes.


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re ready to get to work,¡± he said, ¡°cause David didn¡¯t exactly clear his desk before running off. Or the schedules, for that matter.¡±


    Lane winked at him. ¡°He did warn me,¡± she said, pulling up her gloves. ¡°I believe he would usually start at the cells? And then he told me there¡¯s a press interview scheduled?¡±


    ¡°We can cancel that, Milady,¡± Mr. Grooch promptly offered. ¡°I heard a rumour that it¡¯s been a short night?¡±


    ¡°No need. But I¡¯ll postpone the visit to the prisoners,¡± Lane said. ¡°Is there an official version of what happened yesterday? Do we at least have a name?¡±


    ¡°Only rumours so far, Lady deLande. May I ask what happened?¡±


    ¡°Greg can tell you in a moment,¡± Lane said. ¡°He witnessed the whole thing. Send a runner to the dukes first; I intend to join them for lunch, if they¡¯ll have me.¡±


    ¡°I bet that¡¯s going to be fun,¡± Greg muttered.


    ¡°I do think I¡¯m going to enjoy myself, yes.¡± Lane had to admit that she was already having fun. It would be hard. There was a lot to do. But it was an important job, and she thought she might have a slightly easier time of it than David.


    ¡°Before the interview this morning, I¡¯d like to start by seeing the books and hear more about how your day usually goes,¡± Lane went on. ¡°If we get the report from last night, I¡¯ll want that right away, too. In the afternoon, I¡¯m going to pay a visit to the cells, but I need to keep this dress clean until then. As for tomorrow, I would like to talk to some of the nobility David hasn¡¯t yet approached.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s most of the aristocracy,¡± Mr. Howell said, then ducked his head. ¡°Begging your pardon, madame.¡±


    ¡°No, do speak your mind, Mr. Howell. Politics aren¡¯t David¡¯s game. That¡¯s why I want to start right there. Perhaps, we could contact some of the more¡ªconservative nobles first. I need to get in touch with the instigators behind those protests, see if there¡¯s a way to reach an agreement.¡±


    ¡°Do you think someone like that would speak to you?¡± Greg asked. ¡°I mean, you are technically unmarried.¡±


    ¡°Surely, having my future brother-in-law in the room will preserve my honour? And theirs?¡± Lane smiled at him over her fan, batting her eyes.


    ¡°That would mean we need to find someone who would sit down with a werewolf in the room,¡± Greg said slowly. ¡°But it¡¯s an interesting experiment. At least it would be hard to argue that me being in the room is unnecessary.¡±


    ¡°How about Count Levier?¡± Mr. Grooch asked.


    ¡°If you want conservative, there¡¯s also Lady de Byres,¡± Greg added. ¡°Not exactly powerful, though, and she might not allow me to be in the room, either.¡±


    The mother of his best friend, wasn¡¯t she? It couldn¡¯t hurt to demonstrate how profitable it was to be friends with Gregory Feleke. First though, they needed to make connections to more powerful nobles.


    ¡°Count Levier seems like a good man to start with,¡± Lane said. ¡°And we¡¯ll add Lady de Byres to the list, but below Lord Mire. I would like to meet with a different noble every day. I believe we need to push for a broader understanding and support amongst the nobility, especially here at the palace.¡±


    ¡°Quite so, milady,¡± Grooch said. He finally smiled. ¡°We shall assemble a list while you talk to the reporter. Am I correct in assuming you will also want to meet with Commander Bacrot? Possibly the professors in charge at the University?¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t hurt to meet Professor Audenne in a more official capacity,¡± Lane said slowly. ¡°Yes, do add him to the list. Perhaps the more influential editors and publishers. Could you introduce me to Mr. Higgins senior, Greg? We should also throw some dinner parties, now that the army is kindly freeing up our budget.¡±


    She closed her fan abruptly. ¡°But let¡¯s start by looking at the numbers.¡±


    ***


    George Louis sighed as Lane joined him for lunch and said: ¡°He really couldn¡¯t wait to get away, could he?¡±


    ¡°I believe he thought he could be more useful at Fort Brunich.¡±


    ¡°Of course he did.¡±


    Lane thought George Louis would say more on the matter, but then Duke Desmarais arrived with his wife. They both greeted Lane warmly and congratulated her on taking over for David. Young Lord Rover stumbled over the address and blushed bright red as he sat down. Only Marquess Picot looked surprised at her presence and noted: ¡°Countess deLande, you must be very sure your fiance will make it back from the frontline.¡±


    Well, wasn¡¯t that charming.


    ¡°I have all the faith in the world in David,¡± Lane replied. ¡°And for the duration of his absence, I am quite capable of defending my own honour.¡±


    She considered adding that she didn¡¯t want to ever be with another man, anyway, but then decided that might be laying it on too thick.


    When the lunch was over, she hung back, wondering if George Louis would want to speak to her in private about last night. Surely, he had gotten a report already?


    Indeed, he did call after her, just as she reached the door. ¡°Countess de Lande. A word, if you please?¡±


    Lane rolled her eyes. As if he would hold his tongue if she said No. ¡°How can I serve, Your Highness?¡±


    ¡°I am simply curious,¡± he claimed. ¡°Lord Feleke''s¡ªentanglement¡ªwith the werewolves, I understand. But what about you? What changed your mind about them?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t what she had expected, but it was a common question. Even if the humans didn¡¯t know that the werewolves used to call her ¡°the Mad Butcher¡± they still knew that she had used to hunt werewolves with holy passion. She gave him the same answer she gave everyone else.


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    ¡°I saw the Rot die, Your Highness. I saw the scourge of this country cower before a single, injured werewolf. Just as your own court did, when d¡¯Evier raised it here in the palace.¡±


    George Louis raised his eyebrows rather suggestively. ¡°So it had nothing to do with the werewolf who is soon to be your sister-in-law? I hear she is quite striking in her human body.¡±


    Lane had to fight the urge to hide her face behind her fan. Instead, she clasped it with both hands behind her back. ¡°What are you saying, Your Highness?¡±


    ¡°I was simply wondering if you would consider a deal regarding the monsters, Countess deLande.¡±


    Lane pressed her lips together. She didn¡¯t want whatever he had to offer.


    ¡°David has become¡ªfixated¡ªon this idea that humans and werewolves can peacefully coexist,¡± George Louis already went on. ¡°And I will admit that his brother is¡ªunusual. The same may apply to the Morgulon. But in light of what happened at Lord Nathan¡¯s latest hunt, they are clearly the exception. We cannot have riots in the city and fight a war at the same time, Lady deLande.¡±


    He looked at Lane, as if waiting for a reaction, but she knew better than to dispute the point. One murderous werewolf out of hundreds didn¡¯t prove anything, but if he wanted to view the situation that way, she would hardly sway him.


    Moreover, her silence appeared to unsettle him.


    ¡°In any case,¡± he said, ¡°here¡¯s my offer: I will protect both Greg and Morgulon¡ªand their children. Possibly a few other, hand-picked ones. But I need some concessions in return. From his office as a whole.¡±


    ¡°And how would we oblige you?¡± Lane asked when he fell silent.


    ¡°First of all, the criminals bitten¡ªthey remain criminals. Their sentence may be postponed, but that doesn¡¯t change the fact that they have been sentenced to death. Nor does it undo the crimes they committed.


    You have to understand, this is not purely my concern,¡± the duke added. ¡°A lot of people are worried¡ªeven upset¡ªabout this situation.¡±


    Lane bit the inside of his cheek. David would never, ever agree to this. Alvin would be one of those whose sentence was merely ¡°postponed.¡±


    ¡°Secondly, in the same vein: while I agree we need the elders, I want them better controlled. I understand that Nathan Feleke himself has agreed to train more hunters, and I, for one, am glad about it. The people of Loegrion won¡¯t accept a king who lets monsters run rampant, and they shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    When she still didn¡¯t say anything, he added: ¡°Those are my demands. Again. I hope we can come to an agreement here.¡±


    Lane nodded slowly. ¡°I understand your point, Your Highness. But it¡¯s not feasible. David will never agree to your first demand nor forgive me if I do so. And if you force me to choose between him and you, that¡¯s an easy choice.¡±


    The duke pursed his lips. ¡°I see. So you will not even consider what I have to offer?¡±


    ¡°If it comes down to getting rid of most of the werewolves after the war, then no, Your Highness. I have no interest in considering your offer.¡±


    ¡°Well, it was worth a try. I truly expected you to be too smart to simply continue David¡¯s mad agenda.¡±


    Lane rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh, I fully intend to be smarter about it than David. You will profit, too, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°Really. And how are you going to pull that off?¡±


    ¡°Quite simply, Your Highness. Let me make you a counter-offer: To address your first concern, we can simply stop offering the choice to prisoners. David already spoke to the high command, who are pushing to allow more war wounded veterans to volunteer. Surely, it will be easier to sell the public on patriots so eager to defend their land they return to battle even after losing an arm or leg? We can take pictures for proof.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t solve the issue of the criminals we already have. Nor will it appease the people terrified of the werewolves in our cities.¡±


    ¡°No, Your Highness. But the war might. All you have to do is agree to David¡¯s demand to pay them in full, and I have no doubt most of them will join the new regiment. Train them at Fort Brunich, and you will remove them from the city, too.¡±


    George Louis rubbed his beard. ¡°They either return as war heroes or not at all? I suppose that might¡ªhelp.¡±


    ¡°As for your second request, Your Highness: You cannot have it both ways. The elders know how to read, and Pierre is politically savvy. You can¡¯t paint them as monsters with one brush, and expect them to still help.¡±


    ¡°So we just let them run around. Even the murderous ones.¡±


    ¡°No, Your Lordship. Any werewolf who attacks a human, we hunt down. But we¡¯re already doing that, to the best of our current ability. We have never stopped doing that. The werewolves are aware that we are doing that. This is simply a matter of communicating what the office does to the public.¡±


    Lane took a deep breath. ¡°And to address your concerns, Your Highness: We¡¯ve only seen one murderous werewolf so far, out of hundreds. That makes them more peaceful than humans by far.¡±


    He grunted.


    ¡°They can be useful to you, too,¡± Lane went on, as if he hadn¡¯t made a sound. ¡°Why don¡¯t you pick a town¡ªor a couple of towns¡ªand let people see their power for themselves. The Stour valley is far away, but you might send a pack to Mannin on the railway and let the people there witness with their own eyes how the Rot retreats. As the city guards of Deva can testify, not a single Rot creature has landed in the city since Morgulon took residence here.¡±


    The duke raised his eyebrows. ¡°Not a single one? What about the bad fogs we had?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, Your Highness. As I¡¯m sure Commander Bacrot will testify.¡±


    Lane smiled at his doubt and opened her fan. ¡°You could, likewise, reward your most loyal servants with this. I suggest housing them at the lands of nobles most loyal to you¡ªlike Courtenay¡ªor most troubled by the Rot.¡±


    ¡°Like Wardshire?¡±


    ¡°That would be a waste,¡± Lane said calmly. ¡°Morgulon already cleared the old battleground that threatened my lands. My steward tells me the fields are prospering ever since. No, as I said, I was thinking you could give this out as a reward. Surely, you can think of someone who would deserve to have their lands protected? It need not be a noble¡¯s, either. Mayhaps there¡¯s a free city outstanding in raising volunteer regiments?¡±


    George Louis glared at her. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, it has a certain appeal. Why only two packs, though? If we have so many werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Security, Your Highness. Morgulon was vulnerable because she was alone, so I intend to keep the groups large. No less than eight werewolves. The number alone should deter any professional hunters to come after them, and it will make it harder for fanatics and martyrs, too. I trust, of course, that you would pick those rewarded with a pack carefully to ensure they don¡¯t move against the werewolves themselves.¡±


    She smiled at him as sweetly as she could and added, ¡°That is my offer, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°You think you can get Lord Feleke on board with sending the werewolves out?¡±


    She hid a smile behind her fan. ¡°I am positive I can make him see things my way, yes.¡±


    She was particularly confident because they had discussed the issue after he had asked her to take over, and David had agreed that they needed to make an offer. Still, she batted her eyelashes at George Louis over the edge of her fan, as if she were trying to flirt with him.


    ¡°Stop that,¡± he hissed, face darkening. ¡°You know that won¡¯t work on him.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s far beyond such simple tricks, yes,¡± Lane said, with all the fake pride she could muster. In silence, she wondered if it worked on the duke. Or if he was just that jealous. If so, he was a fool. She considered taunting Stuard some more, but then folded her fan with a sigh.


    David still cared for him. Might even still love him, if the man wasn¡¯t such a damn fool. Maybe it was time to switch strategies.


    ¡°Your Highness, I need you to understand something,¡± Lane said more softly. ¡°Lord Feleke feels intense guilt over his involvement with the slaughter of the werewolves. All this may have started with his brother, but it goes far beyond Gregory these days. David killed hundreds of them over his career, possibly as many as a thousand. And he doesn¡¯t know how many of them might have turned out like Greg, or Lee, or Ragna. It¡¯s eating away at him. There is nothing you might offer that would make him abandon his course now. They do not call him the Relentless for nothing. He has chosen his path, and come hell or high water, he will stick to it.¡±


    She looked down at the fan, running a finger over the folds. ¡°That¡¯s what won me over, Your Highness, since you asked. He doesn¡¯t waver or dither. When he commits, he does it with all his heart. Why even try and work against that? You can condemn him, but you cannot change him. He does not fear death. He would be your most loyal vassal, if you let him be who he is. Are the werewolves worth more than that? Are they worth losing a man who will face the Rot, the Inquisition and any army the Valoise might command against you?¡±


    She glanced over, wondering if George Louis understood what she was really trying to say. From the way the duke stood frozen on the spot, she thought he might.


    ¡°He is conflicted regarding you, Your Highness,¡± she went on. ¡°But I know it would not take much for him to commit himself to you just as he did to the werewolves. All he needs from you is a sign that you won¡¯t ask him to forsake them.¡±


    She wanted to grab him, really, to grab him by the shoulder and shake some sense into him. Do you understand?, she wanted to ask him. Do you understand that he might love you still?


    But she just left him standing there, mulling over her words.

 Chapter 157

    The crowd of protestors in front of the Feleke mansion was so dense that Antonio the carriage driver liberally used his whip against them to make it through, right up to the door. Lane ducked outside first. She didn¡¯t bother trying to placate the angry crowd, just climbed straight into the carriage. When Greg followed, there was a splattering of rotten fruit against the wood and window and the cry of ¡°monster!¡± went up.


    Lane shuddered, but Greg didn¡¯t even blink until the carriage started moving, sinking into a miserable heap in his seat. ¡°Think there¡¯s been another attack?¡± he muttered. ¡°It wasn¡¯t nearly this bad yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Might be,¡± Lane said. ¡°Or maybe word has gotten out about the dead spy.¡±


    ¡°I doubt people would be this upset about a dead spook,¡± Greg grumbled.


    ¡°Not the spook, no. But if word got around that a body was dragged out of the building in which werewolves were seen just a little earlier¡­¡±


    Greg groaned at the thought. ¡°Right. That would do it.¡± He buried his head in his hands. ¡°We¡¯re not going to win the publicity war at this rate, are we?¡±


    ¡°We always knew it would take time, especially in the south,¡± Lane pointed out. ¡°Eoforwic doesn¡¯t have any issues. I checked.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s time to go back to Brines,¡± Greg said softly. ¡°Or Courtenay. I wonder how many servants will quit this time.¡±


    ¡°Thoko¡¯s got a plot of land up at the Bridge Camp, doesn¡¯t she?¡± Lane asked at his desolate tone. ¡°Did she ever go there and well, really see it? Make plans for it?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Greg said quietly.


    They rolled into the courtyard in a flurry of other coaches. Only a few of the people working for the administration still tried to give Greg a wide berth. She could see him relax as soon as they entered the office. Grooch was already in and greeted them, taking their coats and running through the day¡¯s schedule as he hung them.


    They had finally gotten the report from the spy¡¯s house. It came in a sealed envelope waiting on her table. Black wax and a skull.


    ¡°Classy,¡± Greg commented as Lane broke the seal. ¡°Anything interesting?¡±


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s see,¡± Lane muttered.


    The report was short and to the point: The spy had been identified as one Robert Vavre, a clerk in Lord Mire¡¯s accounting department, which didn¡¯t mean much¡ªsince he was Stuart of the Castle, every other secretary in the whole palace worked directly for Lord Mire. Nobody seemed to know much about Vavre other than that he worked hard doing budgetary calculations, and tended to stay late. His superiors had never noted any issue with his work. He wasn¡¯t married, lived in an inherited terrace, and the only slightly curious detail a coworker had recalled was an ¡°interest in wild mushrooms.¡±


    ¡°How very ominous,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°Half the palace is obsessed with wild mushrooms.¡±


    They were a luxury food, given how little of Loegrion¡¯s forest was safe to forage in, and as such featured heavily in the cuisine at the palace.


    Vavre had most likely been unconscious when he had been hanged, hit on the head from behind. The noose had crushed his windpipe, killing him. There was no sign of a fight. Either the killer had been lying in wait, or Vavre had known and trusted his murderer.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s the second,¡± Greg said. ¡°I think I smelled the killer in the kitchen, but I don¡¯t think they were there long.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you recognised the smell by any chance?¡±


    Greg shook his head. ¡°Never came across it before.¡±


    Shame.


    The search of the house had revealed no clue as to who had been the killer, either, or what had been stolen from the kitchen cellar. Nor did George Louis¡¯s men have a clear idea of who the spy had reported to. There had been a journal, much of it coded, which they were still working on. The first entry appeared to refer to the preparation to steal David¡¯s seals and get Calder, Bernadette and Dale killed. After that failure, the entries were sporadic at first, but increasing in frequency until there was at least one every week.


    None of which told Lane anything useful, aside from the fact that she really needed to increase security.


    They didn¡¯t even know if the information had left Loegrion or not.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have better locks installed today,¡± Grooch said, when Lane asked where they were on the security issue. ¡°And the palace guard will extend their patrols to include us.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a start, I suppose. I¡¯ll talk about it with Lord Mire, too, when I meet him later. See if he has any additional suggestions. Is there anything else I should know? Any explanation on what¡¯s going on with the protests?¡±


    ¡°Oh. I thought you¡¯d seen the papers. There¡¯s been another attack.¡±


    Grooch handed her his own stack of papers. It was right there, on the front page if not the leading article. Just a minor thing¡ªLane didn¡¯t think it would have made the news at all a couple of years ago, let alone the front page. A small village between Sheaf and Northwold, a single werewolf, one person bitten. It wasn¡¯t even clear if the victim had died.


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    Maybe she was desensitised, but this was Loegrion! Werewolf attacks were a thing that just¡ªhappened. Especially out in the country. But they needed to show they cared.


    ¡°Mr. Howell, please send a telegraph to House Feleke. I need Lord Nathan to take care of this.¡±


    She hoped he was rested. They needed to prove that they took it seriously. It should be a fairly simple assignment, even for a single hunter. Or maybe the older Lord Feleke and Andrew would go and take out their very first apprentice. She¡¯d leave it to them to decide if the youngest Mire was ready to go out in the field yet.


    ¡°A couple of years about nobody would have lost a day¡¯s wages for this,¡± Lane sighed when Howell hurried off.


    Greg¡¯s shoulders hunched and he didn¡¯t say anything in reply. He walked into the next room and sat down at his desk before Lane could try and figure out some kind of encouragement. She really wished she could help.


    But if it rained, it poured. By the time she arrived for her lunch meeting with the dukes, one of the rallies in the city had ended with an accident that left a man dead. The watch had instituted an assembly ban for the rest of the day and was coming down hard on any infringements. But it wasn¡¯t a state that could last.


    ¡°Lady deLande, I believe we need to give the citizens what they want,¡± Duke George Louis announced as soon as she had sat down. He folded his hands in front of him, as if trying to look as earnest as possible. ¡°I have thought long and hard on what you have said to me yesterday. So at least for a little while, I propose that the young Lord Feleke take his family to Courtenay. Move all the werewolves out of the city and give the whole situation time to calm down.¡±


    Lane narrowed her eyes. George Louis was looking too bright eyed at her. And he had referred to Greg as ¡°Lord Feleke.¡± She didn¡¯t think he had ever done that before. What was this about their conversation from yesterday? How did he think banishing Greg from the city would help him with winning over David?


    He seemed to notice that himself, because he added quickly: ¡°Maybe not Lord Feleke himself. But I think we should make a show of removing the rest of the family.¡±


    ¡°Your Highness, I do not think this is a good idea. Sending Morgulon to Courtenay is going to put the whole city in danger.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s in danger of burning down, Lady deLande. We can¡¯t fight against the mob in the streets and the Valoise at the same time. Besides, there¡¯s still the werewolf at the source of the river, isn¡¯t there? What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t Mannin,¡± Desmarais answered before Lane could. ¡°If the Rot comes down the river, there will be nothing but a few barricades to stop it.¡±


    ¡°But the city watch dealt with the Rot before, haven¡¯t they?¡± George Louis looked around the table, face grim. ¡°I ask you, Lady and Gentlemen, what is the worst that could happen? And is it worse than having the mob in the city, screaming for werewolves to die? Heron Hall has a telegraph line, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Lane opened her mouth, then closed it again. This was extreme, even for the duke. But she had to admit, it had a certain appeal. Give the people what they were so clamouring for. And then let them deal with the consequences.


    ¡°Duke Stuard, that¡¯s ruthless,¡± Desmarais grunted. ¡°People may die if we go ahead with this plan.¡±


    ¡°I am very aware of that fact. And if I could force all the people of Deva to take a vacation at Mannin and dunk their heads in the Savre until they see sense, I would. But that option isn¡¯t open to us, and we have to do something, before Deva goes up in flames. So unless you have a better idea, Duke Desmarais¡­?¡±


    There was no answer.


    So at dusk, Lane led Morgulon and her cubs through the city, a whole company of guardsmen on duty to keep the crowds with their torches away. Imani was the one going with the werewolves to Courtenay, to ensure everything there went smoothly. And there were crowds, even people holding up their children, so they could see the werewolves leaving the city. Other people were dancing, as if they had won some kind of great battle.


    Likewise, the newspapers proclaimed victory straight away. It was just a matter of how gleeful the editors were about the sudden change. The headlines of the day¡¯s final edition ranged from the favourable ¡°Duke Stuard¡¯s wisdom¡± to ¡°Lord Feleke and his mad band of werewolves banished from the city.¡±


    Several nobles wanted to go on record that it had been their council that had moved the duke. Desmarais alluded in an interview to the danger, but that was the only voice Lane found.


    ***


    The first Rot-creatures came down the river on the third night. The papers wrote about it as if it came as a surprise to them. Maybe it really was. Maybe they truly were that naive. Even Mr. Higgins Senior¡¯s editors, who had talked to Greg multiple times and should know better.


    Greg sneered at the headlines and was glad his mother wasn¡¯t present. He shouldn¡¯t wish for bad things. He really shouldn¡¯t.


    But he couldn¡¯t deny that he wanted the people of Deva to fully experience how bloody stupid they were. A few creepers just wouldn¡¯t do that. He wanted¡ªa brute. Or a couple of them, even. Maybe¡­ maybe a house or two levelled.


    He couldn¡¯t even bring himself to feel bad about it, that was how frustrated he felt after a week of people screaming ¡°monster¡± at him and throwing raw eggs.


    The only thing that appeased him somewhat was the fact that he could walk through the city with Mr. Higgins and Gustave again without people screaming expletives at him. Somehow, nobody had mentioned that there was still one werewolf left within the city, nor had Desmarais retracted the permission for him to walk Deva on his own.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe the duke really sent the she-wolf away,¡± Mr. Higgins grumbled when they arrived at the Royal Gardens. Watch Commander Bacrot had wasted no time and declared the whole park off-limits again¡ªhis men were busy burning Rot-husks down at the river banks.


    ¡°It¡¯s what the people wanted, isn¡¯t it?¡± Greg asked loftily. ¡°All the werewolves are gone from the city.¡±


    ¡°But the people are idiots!¡± Gustave threw his hands up, then lowered them slowly when Greg just shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s the point, isn¡¯t it?¡± he groaned. ¡°Teaching them a lesson?¡±


    ¡°Please tell me that¡¯s not true,¡± Mr. Higgins said. ¡°Please tell me the duke didn¡¯t risk a million lives just to prove a point.¡±


    Greg shrugged again and buried his hands in his coat pockets. ¡°Nah. He wasn¡¯t trying to prove a point, he was just running out of options. It wasn¡¯t like he could pull the army back to beat some reason into the mob. So he figured a bunch of creepers are less trouble than the city on fire. I mean, seriously, if you¡¯ve got a million spoiled idiots eager to throw rotten eggs at the only person able to protect them, eventually, you just have to give in and let them face the consequences of being idiots. Eoforwic and Breachpoint and Mannin are going to be laughing themselves silly before this is over.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯ll help, won¡¯t you?¡± Gustave asked. ¡°When it gets bad?¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes. ¡°Of course I¡¯ll help. I¡¯ll just feel very vindicated in the meantime.¡±


    And to his silent joy, Gustave slapped him on the shoulder, grinning. ¡°Good for you.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just hope that nothing happens on full moon,¡± Mr. Higgins commented.

 Bonus Chapter 157+

    Fort Brunich was a drab place. It was meant to be, probably. Once, it had been the head quarters of the Imperial army, as in: the place where they quartered most of their army. Not the cushy place where their officers rested their heads or made big plans, but the place from whence a suppression force would have marched out whenever the uppity Loegrians needed a boot up the arse.


    As a result, it was economical more than anything else. A place to store gear, guns, supplies and living bodies in large quantities. And an open courtyard in the middle to march around on, with practise targets along the walls. So men could learn to be soldiers.


    Or in this case, cheat at it.


    General Clermont grunted as he watched the men and few women march up in a column and then quickly line up, three ranks deep, in front of the targets. The first row fired and kneeled to reload, the second followed, then the third.


    They made it look as if they had never done anything else. Each movement was in rhythm, each step of the reloading process in the right order. No hesitation, as if they all had the muscle memory of doing it a million times rather than two weeks of training.


    And then the spell broke. The soldiers blinked and paused, staring at what their hands were doing. Rust groaned and grabbed his head with both hands.


    The soldiers were nearly done reloading though, and they caught themselves, rising, if not quite as smoothly as before. The first rank took aim just a bit more shakily and fired their muskets again.


    General Clermont spit at the ground. ¡°Twenty-two seconds to reload,¡± he snarled. ¡°Better than our regular troops. Nearly as good as our best veterans.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still wasting magic, though,¡± Pierre commented on David¡¯s other side.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± Rust grumbled.


    He¡¯d been a soldier for twenty years. Longer than he¡¯d been a werewolf. It was his experience the other werewolves were drawing from. His will, guiding them. It was the limit of his strength that meant he could only do it for a few minutes at a time.


    If Morgulon were a soldier, or Monroe¡­


    David tried no to think about it too hard, tried to focus on the here and now, the battles to come. Still, he couldn¡¯t quite shake the terror off. Rust, as amazingly spry as he was at sixty years of age, had been a soldier first and only later in life been bitten. He wouldn¡¯t become a true ¡°elder¡± until he was as old as Pierre was today. But what about someone like Alvin? What power would he wield, forty years from now? If he stayed a soldier, what armies might he command? If every raw conscript under his command fought like a veteran¡ªprovided it was a werewolf¡­


    He hadn¡¯t meant to give men like George Louis or the Roi Solei new reasons to use the werewolves. He didn¡¯t want to see Loegrion form an Empire of its own.


    Alvin came running over, beaming, when the formation dissolved after the demonstration.


    ¡°Did you see us, Lord Feleke?¡± he crowed. ¡°We didn¡¯t freeze this time!¡±


    ¡°I did see, and it looked very good.¡± David had to suppress the urge to muss up Alvin¡¯s hair like he might have done with Nathan ten years ago after a successful lesson. Instead, he waved for Alvin to stick around as the next company of werewolves marched up, to demonstrate their skills under General Clermont¡¯s watchful eyes.


    Rust, too, just watched as the column spread out into a crooked firing line. The first rank volleyed, and began to reload¡ªmore slowly than the first group¡ªwhen the drum gave the signal for the company to square up, simulating a cavalry charge. It wasn¡¯t an easy manoeuvre for a well-trained company, let alone one with as wildly disparate levels of experience as the werewolves. Their instructors hadn¡¯t even considered drilling them in this until Rust¡¯s ability to share his experience had become apparent.


    His dark eyes glowed blue, and David tasted copper on his tongue, felt a tingle on his skin¡ªa feeling he had learned to recognize as Rust squandering his magic¡ªbut the company moved like one being, drawing together in a tight packet, back to back, bayonets fixed and pointing outwards against the imaginary cavalry charge.


    The soldiers managed it just fast enough¡ªas soon as they pointed their weapons outwards, there was the tell-tale slump in the bayonets of Rust¡¯s power breaking. But as Alvin had proudly noted, the werewolves were starting to get used to the drills, too, even if it took them far too long to return to their firing lines when the next signal came.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned,¡± General Clermont said softly, turning and walking towards the main building of the fort. David followed, one hand resting on Alvin¡¯s shoulder to drag him along. The kid stared up at him in shock, but David just winked.


    ¡°You¡¯re giving an old man hope, Lord Feleke,¡± Clermont added louder, clearly for the benefit of the soldiers bustling around them. Then he raised his eyebrows at Alvin¡¯s presence, which revealed some of the scarring behind his eyepatch.


    ¡°He¡¯s with me,¡± David said.


    Clermont didn¡¯t protest, but he didn¡¯t say anything more until they were behind the closed door to David¡¯s small office. ¡°We might just be able to pull this off,¡± he muttered. ¡°I hope you¡¯ve got another magic trick¡ªor three¡ªto pull out of your hat.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to work equally well with all werewolves,¡± David warned, pulling back a chair for his guest and one for Alvin, too, who was nervously stepping from one foot to the other. He took the chair across from Clermont.


    ¡°Explain.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯re some¡ªnot a lot of them, but a small number who are less¡ªsusceptible to an elder¡¯s influence and as a result, Rust¡¯s experience. I have no idea how often this occurs. So far, the most notable example is my brother, Greg. I would suggest not to include any werewolf like that into the battalion, not unless they bring something more than a pair of hands to hold a gun.¡±


    Clermont stared at him from his good eye. ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s a waste of our already limited volunteers? Surely, two or three can¡¯t mess up the line that badly.¡±


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    David shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not the point, General. But they won¡¯t run. If he learns to use his magic better¡ªand he¡¯s learning fast¡ªthen the ones under his influence, their morale won¡¯t break unless Rust breaks first. And he doesn¡¯t break easily. I don¡¯t think watering down that influence is worth a handful of additional soldiers. Unless the books you gave me overstate the importance of morale?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to overstate the importance of morale,¡± the general muttered.


    ¡°Rust can force them forwards,¡± David said. ¡°Ragna will back him.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s her experience? She¡¯s from Fylke, yes? She one of their shield maidens?¡±


    ¡°Something like that. A guard on one of their trading vessels. She¡¯s seen fighting against pirates. Nothing like a battlefield, but Rust is positive she¡¯ll be helpful. She¡¯s a couple of years more powerful than he, and the oldest volunteer we¡¯ve got.¡±


    ¡°And what about him?¡± Clermont jerked his head at Alvin. ¡°He an elder, too?¡±


    ¡°No. But I want to make him my squire.¡±


    ¡°You mean your orderly.¡±


    ¡°Whichever allows me to promote him to ensign.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s noble?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s say he is.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but is he? Which family?¡±


    David rolled his eyes. ¡°Does it matter, really? DeCauchy, if anyone asks.¡±


    Alvin opened his mouth, then closed it again.


    ¡°They¡¯re traitors, aren¡¯t they?¡± Clermont asked.


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± David repeated. ¡°The oldest daughter stayed behind, I¡¯m optimistic that she¡¯d be willing to claim Alvin is her illicit half-brother. Asides, nobody protested against promoting Rust or Ragna to the rank of captain, either.¡±


    ¡°Nobody here is protesting, because I have placed those officers elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Really. That¡¯s just silly.¡±


    ¡°It may be silly, but it¡¯s been hard enough to make the Loegrian nobility swallow the werewolf-officers we absolutely need. I don¡¯t see the need to push that issue right now? You¡¯ll need an orderly, sure. But he doesn¡¯t need to be an ensign for that, does he?¡±


    ¡°General, if that¡¯s what it takes, I¡¯ll adopt Alvin myself.¡± David leaned forwards, ignoring Alvin¡¯s surprised gasp. ¡°Let¡¯s not lie to each other. We¡¯re not getting a better chance to push this issue. Just tell me what it¡¯ll cost me.¡±


    ¡°Major, the werewolves were expelled from the city no three days ago. I¡¯m telling you, this is not the time.¡±


    David rolled his eyes. ¡°Fine then. I¡¯ll bring it up when the citizens of Deva are begging us to bring the werewolves back.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t hold your breath on that.¡±


    ¡°The first creepers came down the river yesterday, General.¡± David¡¯s grip on the table tightened, but he managed to look unbothered as he added: ¡°I¡¯ll give it another week until one slips past the guards and the first newborn dies. We both know that it¡¯s the rich and powerful who live closest to the river.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re right, I¡¯ll consider his promotion,¡± Clermont said. ¡°Does he have any special abilities yet?¡±


    When the General looked at him, Alvin managed a ¡°No, Sir.¡±


    ¡°If he doesn¡¯t turn out to be some kind of prodigy, then not for another decade,¡± David added.


    ¡°Why him then?¡±


    ¡°Because I say so.¡±


    General Clermont shook his head at him. ¡°You and your bleeding heart. Funny how that¡¯s the thing that brings the starch out in you. How did you ever make it as a hunter?¡±


    ¡°Someone has to do what¡¯s necessary,¡± David said. It was a rote answer. What he had done had been far from necessary. But Clermont nodded, as if that made perfect sense. He changed the topic, too, to David¡¯s relief.


    ¡°I read a report that one of the elders who didn¡¯t volunteer can magically spook horses. Would it be enough to break a cavalry charge? And if so, is there a chance he¡¯ll reconsider?¡±


    ¡°I believe it might be enough, but no, I don¡¯t think we should take Monroe into battle,¡± David said. ¡°He¡¯s never fought, and he¡¯s old enough to overrule both Ragna and Rust. If he panics¡­ Anyway, he¡¯s going to try his best to teach those elders who are going.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope they learn fast.¡± Clermont pulled out his pocket watch. ¡°Well, it¡¯s been a relief,¡± he claimed, rising. ¡°As usual, really.¡±


    ¡°We do our best,¡± David replied, rising himself. Alvin hurried to follow suit.


    ¡°I¡¯ll find the way out myself,¡± the general claimed. David followed him to the gate anyway, his crossbow loaded and ready. The absolute last thing they needed was that one of the far too many unsettled werewolves running around the Fort caught the general alone. Even with Nathan, Lafayette and Ronon all on duty, it was difficult enough to keep the instructors safe¡ªeach one of them had a literal bodyguard assigned, from the younger but settled werewolves.


    In fact, that was a large part of the reason why David had wanted to assign Alvin as his orderly. As they returned to the office , the young werewolf asked: ¡°What you said, Lord Feleke¡ª¡±


    ¡°I mean every word of it.¡±


    ¡°But what would it mean? If I became¡ªyour orderly. It¡¯s not going to take me out of the fight, is it?¡±


    ¡°Since I¡¯ll be in the fight, no. It would mean you help with maintaining my gear, take care of my horse, and relay messages for me.¡± David looked around watchfully, but there was nobody in earshot, so he added: ¡°Watch my back in case one of the unstable ones tries to take a bite out of me.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s an ensign?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the lowest rank of officer.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why the general asked if I was noble.¡± Alvin nodded, then ducked his head. ¡°I don¡¯t like the idea of telling people my mom was some nobleman¡¯s concubine. ¡®Specially not if it¡¯s one of them traitorous bastards who went and joined the enemy. Would you really¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What about your fianc¨¦e? Don¡¯t you think the lady will mind?¡±


    The thought made David smile to himself. ¡°No, Alvin. I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll mind.¡±


    Alvin looked up at him, then down at his own hand. ¡°I guess¡ªit¡¯s not like I¡¯d be able to inherit anything, is it?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that,¡± David said. ¡°If a werewolf can be an officer in the Loegrian army, why shouldn¡¯t he be allowed to inherit a title, too? Let¡¯s find the quartermaster. I want you to take the room attached to mine.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to wait until the general agrees to promote me?¡±


    David stopped, glanced around again. ¡°I¡¯ll still need someone to watch my back in the meantime,¡± he said softly. ¡°I¡¯ve had someone try to break into my room last night.¡±


    ¡°But you got him,¡± Alvin said. ¡°I mean, obviously.¡±


    ¡°I did, but it¡¯s a stupid risk to take, with so many unsettled ones around. On the other hand, I still have to keep up appearances.¡±


    And beyond that, they were surrounded by the few officers and instructors willing to work with the werewolves. Why should he care about the sensibilities of those idiots in Deva who had exposed the city to the Rot?


    ¡°What appearance?¡± Alvin asked.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think the other werewolves will talk if I pick a bodyguard?¡±


    Alvin frowned in reply. ¡°I think they¡¯d agree that it¡¯s a stupid risk to take,¡± he said slowly. ¡°It¡¯s not like we can replace you.¡±


    David could only hope that Alvin wasn¡¯t too optimistic there. ¡°Still, let¡¯s pretend I hired you for different reasons. The humans still need to believe I¡¯ve got some kind of magic trick to keep you all in line.¡±


    ¡°Oh," Alvin said. ¡°Gotcha.¡±


    David did warn Lane in a letter later that night, about the offer he had made to Alvin. As he had expected, she didn¡¯t mind, but he thought she had been laughing when she penned her answer.

 Chapter 158

    Greg couldn¡¯t remember the last time he had been a werewolf alone on full moon. Nathan went into the basement with him¡ªDavid was still at Fort Brunich, preparing an army of werewolves for war, and Andrew and Bram had taken their three apprentices¡ªtwo of whom had only started their training a day ago¡ªto witness the full moon change at the dungeon. Lane was at Courtenay to support Imani with the cubs. That left only Nathan and Thoko at the house¡ªand Nathan, too, was gone by the time Greg came back to his senses.


    To deal with another wild werewolf, who might or might not be a danger to anyone else but was certainly in danger themself now.


    Greg went back to sleep until noon to find Thoko and Gustave in the unnaturally quiet sitting room, conspiring to drag him out of the house to the racetrack. They were showing dog races today. Which meant that the duke was in attendance. Greg mostly heard about it; His Highness was surrounded by a band of courtiers and bodyguards so vast, Greg barely caught glances of him.


    He wondered what he might have said otherwise. ¡°Thank you,¡± went a bit too far. Yet he was thankful that the duke was willing to teach his own citizens a lesson rather than making the werewolves¡ªand Greg first of all¡ªsuffer the mob¡¯s abuse any longer.


    He just wished that lesson didn¡¯t make him the only settled werewolf in the whole city.


    When the last night of full moon fell, Greg stayed up rather than go back into the cage. Gustave hung around, trying to talk him into a game of chess.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother. He won¡¯t play on full moon,¡± Thoko said, grinning.


    ¡°I can¡¯t think on full moon,¡± Greg grumbled, pacing. He was too tired to do anything useful, and too restless to sit. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m bad company tonight. Can¡¯t even read.¡±


    ¡°Really. Do you have a book in mind you¡¯d like to read?¡±


    Greg waved over towards the wall with the bookshelves, but he couldn¡¯t form the words to explain how he wished he had time to read all the novels published since he had been bitten.


    Gustave scanned the shelves thoughtfully. ¡°Here, let¡¯s try this one. I remember you liked that one when we read it with Mr. Higgins. Let¡¯s see if you can listen.¡±


    And then he settled down and started reading out loud, as if Greg was a child. He considered protesting, but it was easier to let the words wash over him, a familiar tale unfolding, and Thoko resting in his arms.


    It was quiet and peaceful and nice, right until someone hammered against the door, and a nervous servant girl informed them that the watch was asking for his help.


    A Rot-brute had broken through the perimeter along the river and was loose in the city.


    Greg stared at the terrified guard, white-faced underneath his silver helmet. Just a raw recruit. Possibly younger than Greg had been when this whole mess started.


    The boy seemed to sense his hesitation, because he went on, ¡°please, your lordship, we¡¯re¡ªwe¡¯re dying! The helmets barely help, and this thing, it¡¯s too strong!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s still full moon,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°I can¡¯t¡ªif I turn wolf, I¡¯ll be a werewolf on full moon in the middle of Deva.¡±


    ¡°Is there a place you could draw the creature, something enclosed¡ªsomething you couldn¡¯t climb out of? Like¡ªsome kind of mediaeval fortifications?¡± Thoko asked from behind him.


    ¡°What about the old moat?¡± Gustave offered. ¡°How deep does it have to be?¡±


    Greg turned to Thoko with a mix of fear and betrayal. Was she really asking him to fight, as a wolf, on full moon in the middle of the capital¡ªwithout his brothers or even Lady deLande to watch his back?


    ¡°You know the watch can¡¯t stop this,¡± Thoko said quietly. ¡°And you know that not everyone living down by the river was throwing rocks.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± Greg kicked the door frame. He knew she was right. But he was scared. Not so much of the Rot, though he was still far away from a hundred full moons, but of the watch. And yes, also of going rampant in the middle of Deva.


    ¡°Morgulon and Lane will be there, soon,¡± he muttered, but he knew as he said it that it would take far longer to drag them here than for him to run down to wherever the problem was.


    They should have all seen this gaping hole in the duke¡¯s plan.


    Thoko reached out for his hand. ¡°Let¡¯s at least look at the moat and see if you can lure the Rot there. Let¡¯s just take a look at the situation.¡±


    Greg took a deep breath, but he nodded. His hands shook as he reached for his shoes and coat. The young messenger stepped impatiently from one foot to the other, but he didn¡¯t hurry them. Only when Greg said: ¡°All right. Lead the way,¡± did he take off.


    Greg had to hurry after him and was soon panting against the stitch in his side. Despite his gear, the young guard seemed determined to jog all the way back to wherever the threat had emerged. He didn¡¯t even slow down as they went down the slope to the river banks and into the thick fog cloud that hung over the valley.


    This night, it really wasn¡¯t a natural phenomenon¡ªor only partially natural. The stink made Greg almost lose control over his own body. He stumbled forwards, deafened by the howling in his own head, and almost fell over his guide, who kneeled over two collapsed bodies in the city watch¡¯s uniform. They were dead. Their bodies were crumpled, as if an ox had gone through them.


    The young guard retched, and just barely avoided throwing up all over the dead.


    Greg reached out to touch the boy¡¯s shoulder, barely breaking stride. The wolf¡¯s fury propelled him forwards, down the road. Following the stench of spoiled magic.


    Down to the river bank, into some sort of park along the path right by the water. Even though he knew the inner city well, Greg had no idea where he was. Not the Royal Gardens, that much he knew. All he could see was the white wall of the fog that ate all sounds and made him feel like the only person in the whole city. It retreated before him and closed back in behind him.


    When had he lost Thoko?


    The monster lurking beneath his skin didn¡¯t care. It just hungered for the fight


    His face felt wet from the mist. So that part at least was natural? Or was there something worse than a brute hiding in the city? He couldn¡¯t fight a Rot-queen, not even to lure it away. Oli had been roped in like a puppet, and the kid had been a werewolf three times as long as Greg.


    But now that he smelled the Rot, he couldn¡¯t stop himself, either. Not while the moon was in the sky. The challenge to his territory was too great.


    Downriver they followed it, away from the palace, and thus the old moat. Across a bridge and more scattered bodies strewn between the barricades, then up the hill on the other bank.


    It wasn¡¯t until he saw the colourful glass scattered across the street from a broken window that he realised that he was walking around the back of the university. And he suddenly had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly where the Rot creature was going. Why it wasn¡¯t breaking into any of the homes they had passed.


    The university had a hospital. A hospital with a large maternity ward, hailed to be one of the safest in all of Loegrion.


    Greg started running. He had no idea what he was going to do if he got there, but he¡¯d worry about that once he caught up.


    The hospital was surrounded by high walls, with tall wrought iron gates that would be closed at this time of night. Greg could sense the cold of silver as he hurried along to the closest gate. There was alchemy in the air, too, burning his nose.


    When Greg rounded the corner, the gate to the hospital was wide open, bent out of shape. Something was moving on the other side, trying to break into the main door, Greg thought, when he heard a strange sort of wailing¡ªnot quite a wolf¡¯s howl, nor a scream¡ªundulating unlike anything he had ever heard.


    All he knew was that it was a challenge.


    And the wolf was all too willing to respond.


    ***


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    Thoko cursed breathlessly when she heard the wailing in the distance, followed a few seconds later by a howl. Gustave lost his stride and almost landed on his arse, but she didn¡¯t slow. She had heard that howl too many times to be fazed by it¡ªworst case, they¡¯d have to climb something.


    The stink worried her, and the snarling in the distance.


    ¡°Did you¡ªdid you hear that?¡± Gustave asked.


    ¡°Greg¡¯s fighting something,¡± Thoko replied tersely. ¡°Yes, I heard.¡±


    ¡°So he¡¯s a wolf now, isn¡¯t he? Why are we still going that direction? On full moon?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to wait here for the cavalry,¡± Thoko grumbled. She wasn¡¯t going to wait for David or Lane or Morgulon to get there. Someone had to make sure the watch didn¡¯t screw Greg over, and it looked like there was nobody else on hand.


    She hurried up the hill as fast as her burning legs carried her, breathing flatly. Could she even get close enough to see? Did she have the fortitude of mind to withstand the Rot¡¯s miasma or would Greg¡¯s presence be enough to counter the effect? Or would the Rot just knock her out flat?


    She wasn¡¯t about to tell Gustave, but secretly, Thoko was relieved that they could hear Greg fighting. She had heard about what had happened to Oli when he met the Rot-queen, and there was no way she could do what Nathan had done that day. The only weapon she had was the pistol that bumped into her hip at every step. Greg¡¯s brothers had trained her how to use it, but that wouldn¡¯t do her any good against the Rot.


    However, she was perfectly willing to shoot the first soldier who pointed a gun at Greg.


    Not happy to, nor eager. But she wasn¡¯t going to tell his brothers¡ªor Eyal and Isaac, for that matter¡ªthat she had stood idly by as some idiot in a uniform shot Greg for saving them from their own stupidity.


    He couldn¡¯t transform to heal himself tonight, even if the bullet wasn¡¯t silver.


    After a minute, Gustave caught up with her, panting and holding onto his sides, choking on the stink. ¡°You¡¯re sure about this?¡± he asked. ¡°What do we do if we run into him?¡±


    ¡°Climb.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Thoko thought her answer had been pretty simple. ¡°Just get off the ground,¡± she hissed back.


    In the distance, Greg¡¯s howl changed in pitch. The stink grew ever more suffocating. Gustave fell behind again. Whether it was the Rot or fear, Thoko couldn¡¯t tell. She didn¡¯t have the strength to spare to look for him. Her head felt like it was about to split open like a ripe pea pod, but she stumbled forwards still, carried by the worry for her friend.


    He had stayed for them. When they had hardly known him, when he couldn¡¯t have known how they would react to the truth, he had stayed to guard them, until nearly full moon. Because it had been the right thing to do.


    She¡¯d never be able to face her ancestors if she did less for him now.


    There was a gate in front of her, all bent out of shape. The walls to the right and left hand had bricks ripped out of them, too. Other than that, it looked like a good, high wall, designed to keep the public out of the area on the other side.


    An easy spot to start climbing. Soon, she was up on the wall¡ªwas that a prison on the other side? But the building behind looked too nice for a prison. Given the darkness and the fog, it was hard for her to tell. Only the sounds of the fight were suddenly much louder. She did think she saw the cloud moving, too.


    Or maybe that was just her imagination.


    Or maybe the Rot just wanted her to think that.


    Something had emerged from the swirling white haze. A giant spider? But no: Some of those legs wore boots. Thoko shuddered. Those were human legs. Some of them were still wrapped in the uniform trousers of the city watch, others seemed to have been rotting in the water of the White Torrent for a while. They grew around some kind of trunk, put together from pieces too small for Thoko to identify. That was probably a relief.


    There was no proper head on top of the trunk, just a wide maw of bony jaws. No eyes, either, like any Rot creature she had ever seen. Yet it knew exactly where she was. And like any other Rot creature, it didn¡¯t let her move.


    All she could do was watch as it came closer and closer.


    It was an all too familiar feeling. But as every time before, Greg was there to save her. He was limping already, but he threw himself at the misshapen thing coming for her.


    Monster, the mob had called him. But there was nothing evil about him. Not even now, with the full moon in the sky. He was nothing like the Rot. No werewolf was. Not even the Spreaders.


    Deadly, sure. But monstrous? If that was monstrous, then so was everyone in the mob who had been screaming for Greg¡¯s blood.


    Maybe they were.


    Thoko blinked slowly. She had lost track of time, track of what was happening, track of Greg and the Rot creature. Track of where she was.


    The stones of the wall were cold and wet against her cheek. It was sheer luck that she hadn¡¯t fallen down yet: she was lying flat on top, and the wall wasn¡¯t that wide.


    Greg had locked his teeth around one of the many legs and was throwing his head left and right like a giant dog with the most bizarre chew-toy ever. Thoko clamped her teeth over a mad giggle and the sudden urge to throw herself off the wall face first rose in her. Gingerly, feeling with her hand, she rolled onto her back, then let her head fall to the side to continue watching.


    The Rot¡¯s giant maws kept trying to grab Greg, but everytime, he¡¯d dance out of the way. Harder to avoid were the many kicking feet. Thoko winced every time she saw a boot hit home. If they had just been dismembered human feet, Greg would¡¯ve barely noticed, but with the twisted power of the Rot behind it, they broke bones and sent even the giant wolf flying.


    Shakily, Greg got back to his feet, the limp more pronounced. He was bleeding, too, but he wasn¡¯t stopping. Over and over he dragged the monster away, either from Thoko or the door to the large building on the other side of the yard. Thoko had no idea why the Rot even wanted to go there.


    But she did know the exact moment Morgulon was back in the city. Between one blink and the next, the night seemed brighter. The fog inside her head lifted, if not the one around her.


    Hospital. There was a sign above the door that said hospital. No wonder the Rot had come here. There were people moving upstairs in the windows, too.


    Again, the creature tried to make it past Greg and the hospital¡¯s doors. Someone quick-witted inside must have barricaded them when the fog had first risen. The sturdy wood shook, but held long enough for Greg to attack from behind. In retaliation, it tried to bodycheck him into the closest bit of wall but he stumbled out of the way just in time to avoid getting his rib cage crushed.


    Up behind the windows, children cried. A street urchin peeked around the corner, then quickly ran off. Thoko sat up as the city started breathing again.


    Some backup would still be nice.


    But Morgulon never showed up. Neither did any other elder. Greg had to rip the damned monster apart on his own, taking more wounds in the process. What had they even sent Pierre and his pack to Windish for, if they weren¡¯t going to be of help when the Rot attacked a damn hospital?


    When it became clear that the fight was ending, Thoko carefully climbed back down onto the ground. She wasn¡¯t the only one finding her courage at that point: A nurse had stepped onto a balcony, a handkerchief pressed to her face against the stink.


    And the watch was snooping around, too, checking if the coast was clear.


    Thoko took a deep breath and stepped into the broken gate. Her heart was racing. Behind her, Greg was just ripping the final leg off the ugly bastard. As long as Greg stayed within the courtyard and nobody left the building, or tried to enter the yard¡­


    She crossed her arms over her chest when the patrol of watchmen came closer. She could hear the giant wolf moving behind her back, but she refused to turn, even to look.


    The watchmen stopped on the other side of the street, staring at her. They didn¡¯t seem eager to get any closer.


    ¡°Anyone hurt here?¡±


    ¡°This is a hospital!¡± Thoko yelled back. ¡°If anyone¡¯s hurt, they¡¯re in the perfect place!¡±


    ¡°What happened to the Rot creature here?¡±


    ¡°My friend took care of it.¡±


    ¡°Your, ah, friend. He okay?¡±


    The whole situation was a little surreal. Thoko glanced over her shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s a little beaten up, but I think he¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Right. Uh, he¡¯s not going to go walking around the city, is he?¡±


    And if he did, would you shoot him for it?


    Aloud she said: ¡°Pretty sure he¡¯s tired out for tonight.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to stop him, right, madam? If he goes a-walking?¡±


    What did they expect her to do? No, wait¡ªthey had her confused for one of the Felekes? But what could she do to stop Greg from leaving the yard?


    That wasn¡¯t the point, was it? The guards just wanted reassurance, didn¡¯t they?


    ¡°I¡¯m just going to keep standing right here,¡± Thoko called back.


    When she heard the clicking of nails on cobblestone get closer, she wondered if she would be made a liar while the watch was still in sight. Every hair on her body stood on end as the giant wolf behind her limped closer and closer, but she refused to turn, refused to look away from the guards who were gaping at her underneath their silver helmets.


    The blood was rushing in her ears and her knees shook, but Greg hadn¡¯t jumped at her yet, hadn¡¯t even growled at her, so she stood her ground. Maybe he was just too tired after the fight.


    He kept coming closer though, until Thoko could hear him panting right behind her, could feel the heat of his breath on her neck. Every muscle in her body froze up, but he just stood there, looking over her shoulder like a curious horse.


    Maybe Morgulon had some power to keep him calm from afar. Maybe Pierre had some kind of magic trick. Or maybe it was the same thing that made the cubs playful on the first and third night of full moon rather than intent on biting Imani¡¯s fingers off. Or maybe a mix of all the three. To Thoko, the only thing that mattered was that he wasn¡¯t biting her.


    The huge wolf sniffed her shoulders, her hair, then her hand, too. Thoko held her breath and turned her head inch by inch to look over her shoulder. For a brief moment, their eyes met and Thoko stilled again.


    It was weird to look into that familiar face and have a stranger look back at her. There was intelligence in those yellow eyes, more than she would have expected on a full moon. She thought there even was recognition. But it wasn¡¯t Greg looking at her.


    The wolf quickly turned its head, baring its teeth at her before limping away. It retreated along the wall, into the shadows. Shyly. Like a wild animal.


    She stayed right where she was, leaning against the broken gate. Now that the coast had cleared, she was starting to wonder what had happened in the rest of the city. Where was Lady deLande? David? Morgulon? How many Rot-creatures had entered Deva tonight?


    And where had they come from? Fenn was still at the source of the river, right? Just pulling Morgulon out shouldn¡¯t have had this effect? Right?


    What had happened tonight?

 Chapter 159

    What the hell had happened last night?


    That was the first thing Greg wondered when he came to himself. He was naked. He was naked, cold, and in considerable pain. He was also lying on the street. On the cold cobblestones. The weirdest part was the blanket, though. Someone had gone through the trouble of covering him with a white sheet.


    Not an eiderdown or a decent quilt, no. Nothing that would have actually warmed him. Just enough to cover his naked arse. As if whoever had done it had been worried about public indecency.


    He was fairly sure he was lying in a puddle of his own blood.


    ¡°Hey, Greg,¡± a voice whispered behind him. Thoko?


    ¡°Are you awake?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Where am I?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re on the courtyard in front of the University Hospital of Deva. You fought a Rot brute here. The doctors should be out in a moment. They were too scared to leave the building while you were a wolf.¡±


    Doctors. They¡¯d have something against the pain, right?


    It wasn¡¯t until later, when he was upstairs, bandaged, given a gratuitous amount of opium, and lying in a comfortable bed in a ward of the hospital that it hit him: he was in a public hospital, in a public ward, with regular doctors¡ªnot vets¡ªfussing over him on the day after full moon. And for once, there wasn¡¯t a mob in the street screaming for his blood.


    Well, he had already spread that all over the stones outside. Fighting a Brute. And then, crucially, not fighting Thoko. Behaving like a wild animal rather than a rabid beast, she had said.


    Maybe it was a good thing that David hadn¡¯t seen that. It would only make him feel more guilty about everything.


    His oldest brother showed up right before dinner with the evening newspaper edition tucked under his arm. He was looking tired, and contrite, and frustrated as he stopped at the foot of the bed.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± Greg growled at him, half to show that he was awake, half to forestall whatever apology David had prepared. It hadn¡¯t been him who had ordered the werewolves out of Deva, after all.


    And in any case, mostly Greg hated that it appeared to have worked.


    ¡°How bad was it?¡± he added.


    In answer, David held out the newspaper.


    ¡°Rot-attack: Death toll in Deva reaches 237¡ªrescue efforts ongoing,¡± the headline read, and in smaller print: ¡°Who authorised the removal of the werewolves from the capital?¡±


    ¡°No fucking way,¡± Greg muttered. ¡°They cannot seriously¡­¡±


    ¡°They very much are.¡± David ran a hand through his braids. ¡°The blame is neatly getting divided, though. Not much falling on us right now, given that Lane warned everyone about this very move. There are, of course, still idiots blaming her for not saying it louder, and me, for ¡®allowing¡¯ Morgulon to leave at all.¡±


    He glanced at the paper. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll have any protests on our front door in the future.¡±


    Right. And only two hundred people had died for it. So far.


    It was cold, even by David¡¯s standards. But it hadn¡¯t been his idea, and for Duke George Louis, it was probably nothing.


    ¡°What are they saying about the duke?¡±


    David didn¡¯t say anything, just opened the newspaper up. ¡°Duke Stuard vows: last time I listen to the streets,¡± said a Header on the inside.


    Greg nodded slowly. A sudden suspicion hit him. ¡°Do we have any idea where that brute came from? Is Fenn alright?¡±


    ¡°Two brutes,¡± David said. ¡°And a bunch of creepers. They¡¯re still pulling out bodies from the rubble.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡ªwhere?¡±


    ¡°The second brute went to shore on the other side of the river, went down Lackland Road¡ªwent through the walls of the villas there, actually. It bounced off the Imperial church¡¯s protection and careened into the Mills Field, smashing barracks to bits, all the way to the Free Hospital.¡±


    ¡°Which it smashed to bits, too?¡±


    ¡°No. Thanks to, well, Bishop Larssen. He managed to stall it with fire and magic until Morgulon got there. As to where the Rot came from, the answer is most likely sabotage. Rust followed the trail back to a small inlet and found a bunch of slaughtered chickens.¡±


    ¡°Chickens didn''t do that,¡± Greg grumbled.


    ¡°No,¡± David agreed. ¡°The best theory we have right now is that the Rot picked up power on the way downriver. And when I say best theory, I mean that Pierre hasn¡¯t called me a fool yet for suggesting it, so we¡¯re running with that. Whoever had my office searched probably couldn''t believe their luck when we moved Morgulon to Courtenay.¡±


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    ¡°You think so?¡±


    ¡°I think the timing is no coincidence,¡± David said. ¡°They probably expected you to go on a killing spree after destroying a few creepers. Depending on how they interpreted my notes, they might not even have realised that you can kill a brute.¡±


    David''s notes could get rather, well, confusing, so Greg supposed it was possible. And he could see the point. If someone''s goal was to sow sedition, then this might have looked like a good plan: show that the werewolves couldn''t reliably protect people but would kill people on full moon.


    Even someone who usually acted as human as he.


    But Greg couldn¡¯t quite shake off the thought that maybe, Duke Stuart had created himself an excuse to never listen to the public again.


    ¡°Last time I listen to the street,¡± could totally mean he wasn¡¯t going to listen to any of the more democratic demands that were arising in the wake of the Revolution, couldn¡¯t it?


    But Greg wasn¡¯t quite drugged out enough to say that aloud.


    ***


    The next morning, Greg awoke to Dr. ibn Sina berating one of the hospital¡¯s doctors for not having set Greg¡¯s broken right arm properly the day before. It was a rather painful awakening, because ibn Sina was showing the ¡°embarrassment to the profession¡± just where Greg¡¯s forearm bones were out of alignment. As gentle as ibn Sina was being about it, there was simply no way to do it painlessly.


    While the two still argued about how to go about setting the bones, rightly worried that Greg might turn on them if they just went for it, Dr. Barnett showed up, too. Courtesy of deLande, who had officially hired him for the office.


    The werewolf doctor had his own bag full of tricks, amongst them a leather wristband covered with a fine silver net and padded on the inside. Even with the padding, the cuff was uncomfortably cold. And when it closed, Greg felt a strange tightness around the chest, as if the leather hadn¡¯t been wrapped around his upper arm but his ribcage.


    ¡°He won¡¯t be able to transform like this,¡± Barnett explained for ¡°his colleagues of the human specialisation¡± as he called them. ¡°Personally, I¡¯d prefer to set these bones while he¡¯s a wolf, of course, much less fiddly if you ask me, but anyway, the patient is all yours. Unless you want me to demonstrate how¡ª? No?¡±


    The ¡°human specialist¡± from the hospital seemed offended at the idea of having a veterinarian working on ¡°his¡± patient, even if so far, he hadn¡¯t done much beyond wrapping Greg in bandages. ¡°Dr. ibn Sina. If you would assist me?¡±


    Barnett rolled his eyes at Greg, while Ibn Sina took a firm hold of Greg¡¯s arm. The other doctor ran his hands over the break to get a feel for how the bones lay. Greg pressed his eyes shut as the fingers on his arm tightened. There was a pull and then a slow torque, and a pain unlike anything he knew. The beast inside of him wanted to explode outwards, to attack whoever had dared¡ªand slammed into a wall.


    Greg screamed until he passed out.


    ***


    The doctors of the hospital and ibn Sina kept him in bed for five days, mostly because besides his arm, he had multiple broken ribs. And possibly because the hospital staff was scared of more Rot attacks. By the time Greg left, Deva had its own werewolf pack to patrol the river, stationed right within the city. And Morgulon and the babies were back in their nest in the drawing room.


    Barely two weeks after Morgulon had left the city, the mood in Deva had been turned on its head¡ªthough not enough that the neighbours would say ¡°thank you¡± as they watched Greg limp over the threshold. They were staring from the windows all along the street, all the way to the bend.


    It made Greg want to transform just so he could properly snarl at them.


    David returned to the city to have dinner with them that evening, but he didn¡¯t stay the night, rushing back to Fort Brunich as soon as dessert was finished. He seemed older and more grim-faced and refused to talk about what went on there.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been killing rabid werewolves by the score,¡± Nathan explained as they sat together over a glass of beer. ¡°General Clermont wants a thousand werewolves to assail Port Neaf with. A full battalion, so anyone volunteering gets the bite.¡±


    He took a sip from his glass, turning it thoughtfully in his hands. He grimaced, and added: ¡°Thing is, they¡¯re only setting up a few hundred full moon cages at the war camp. That¡¯s how many casualties they¡¯re expecting.¡± Then he blinked, and forced a smile. ¡°On the bright side, Pierre is going to teach us magic.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s us?¡± Thoko asked.


    ¡°David and I, of course. Dad, if he wants to, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Not Andrew?¡± Greg asked.


    Nathan shook his head. ¡°Lane, maybe. See, Pierre reckons it was magic that made David such a wicked hunter to get away from. What we used to think of as ¡®talent¡¯?¡± He grinned. ¡°Pierre reckons it was really a talent for magic.¡±


    A talent that Greg didn¡¯t have. He¡¯d been tested as a youth by a priest of Mithras, before his parents had hired Mr. Higgins to tutor him. It stung to think about, stung even more that Pierre was teaching magic to David and Nathan after telling him that he was too young, that he didn¡¯t have the power yet.


    ¡°What are you learning?¡± he asked, trying to hide the hurt. ¡°Fire? Healing?¡±


    Nathan waved him off. ¡°Nothing so exciting. Seems that we¡¯re both just very good at sensing the magic--probably why I survived at Deeshire when Bart and Roy didn''t. So Ragna suggested we should try to learn to listen in on when you guys talk as wolves. Pierre wasn¡¯t happy about that idea, I can tell you.¡±


    A shudder ran down Greg¡¯s spine, and it took him a moment to realise that it was second hand fear he was feeling. Morgulon didn¡¯t like the thought, either.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± Nathan said. ¡°You¡¯ll soon surpass us both.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡ªMorgulon isn¡¯t thrilled, either.¡±


    Nathan bumped him in the shoulder. ¡°Whatever you say, little brother.¡±


    ¡°I wish I could learn to listen to you when you¡¯re wolf,¡± Thoko said wistfully. ¡°That would be so useful.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s certainly going to be useful for David in battle,¡± Nathan said. ¡°If he can learn it fast enough, I mean.¡±


    Just one more month until David took all the werewolves they could gather to assault Port Neaf.


    Going to war.


    ¡°I wish he¡¯d take me,¡± Nathan added. ¡°I get why he wants me here, but damn, I don¡¯t like the thought of him going on his own. Worse, with that idiot deVale.¡±


    Greg nodded silently. He couldn¡¯t imagine going to war, much less volunteering to go. But the more he learned of the werewolves, of the reality of werewolf hunting¡ªof who David had been¡ªthe more he realised how little he knew of his brother. Of the Relentless.


    If anyone could survive a war, surely it would be the man who¡¯s mere mention could strike fear in the hearts of elders like Pierre or Morgulon? Who had nevertheless managed to assemble all the elders of Loegrion behind himself.


    He still wished the whole fight was over.

 Chapter 160

    New moon was over by the time Greg returned to work. When he walked into the office, for a brief moment, he thought Mr. Grooch would hug him. It was nice to be welcomed with open arms, but it also said a lot about how overworked the secretaries were.


    There was a mountain of paperwork that had piled up on his desk.


    Most of the work stemmed from General Clermont¡¯s push for a thousand werewolves, which meant almost doubling the total number of werewolves in Loegrion, all within a couple of months. Greg would have never thought it possible, but there were actually a lot of volunteers. Many former soldiers¡ªwounded veterans from the Valoisian campaigns on the continent¡ªwho had been discharged years or even decades ago and left to struggle on their own. Likewise, men and women disabled in factory or work accidents flocked to the army¡¯s recruiters in the north.


    Mannin turned out the most people in total. Eoforwic, despite being only a mid-sized, recently industrialised city, had more volunteers than Deva. Sheaf came in fourth.


    There were less than a hundred volunteers from south of the White Torrent.


    It made Greg feel dirty, taking advantage of the disabled and the disadvantaged like this. Necessity or not, it shouldn¡¯t be like this. Especially given how werewolves were still treated.


    ¡°Eh, I wouldn¡¯t be too upset about it,¡± Mr. Howell said. ¡°Countess deLande has done her utmost to capitalise on those Rot-attacks. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen the papers?¡±


    Greg had seen the papers. While he had been nursing his broken bones, Lane had given an interview or spoken in public at least once, sometimes multiple times per day. She had met with merchants and appeared at guild halls, had even spoken at gentlemens¡¯ clubs, quite often with Morgulon at her side.


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s been having tea and dinner parties with lords and ladies, too,¡± Mr. Howell added. ¡°She must¡¯ve spoken to every Marques currently in the city, and quite a few of the Counts. I think it¡¯s really starting to have an effect.¡±


    Greg could only hope that Mr. Howell was right. Sure, Lane was good at what she did. She could play the demure widow or the self-reliant modern countess equally well, and a range of characters in between. And most importantly, she could suss out in a few seconds which would be best received.


    But Rot-brutes or not, the werewolves still weren¡¯t exactly well-loved in the city and amongst the nobility, were they?


    Or if they were loved, then only as guard-dogs. Not as people. Nobody wanted them as neighbours just yet.


    And yet, in many small ways, Lane did succeed. By the time David¡¯s final war preparation were underway, the werewolves didn¡¯t just have Desmarais¡¯s permission to enter the city. They had public support, too. Not just for patrols, but for werewolves to spend their paper vouchers at the markets or even visit the bathhouses.


    As long as they could act mostly human, then a pair of golden eyes no longer got them stopped¡ªor arrested¡ªat the gates.


    It resulted in a visit Greg really hadn¡¯t expected.


    He had taken the day off. He felt slightly bad about it, given that he only wanted to go out with Gustave in the afternoon, but Lane had encouraged him to take the whole day. With only a couple of days left until the werewolves went to war, work was slowing down at the office, too.


    He hadn¡¯t expected the knock on the door at mid-morning, or for the servant to call him. He really hadn¡¯t expected to look into Bernadette¡¯s embarrassed face. She ducked her head as soon as he got to the door. Fleur and Boris stood behind her, awkwardly stepping from one foot onto the other.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Bernadette said softly.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Greg replied, somewhat dumbfounded. He hadn¡¯t sensed her at all. Sure, it had been quite a while, he wasn¡¯t attuned to her anymore, and there were other werewolves in the city. He hadn¡¯t expected them, and he certainly hadn¡¯t expected them to look so¡­ gentrified?


    Bernadette and Fleur both wore dresses¡ªsimple, dark fabrics, closefitting, none of the gigot-sleeve monstrosities currently popular at court, but with all the undergarments. Boris wore a jacket and pants, and they even wore decent shoes, all three of them.


    If it hadn¡¯t been for the golden eyes of Bernadette and Boris, they might have passed as a perfectly human family from a nearby small town, visiting the big city.


    Probably David¡¯s doing.


    After a moment, it occurred to him that they were likewise scrutinising him. Neither one of them was saying anything,


    He shook himself. ¡°Uh, want to come in?¡± he asked, stepping aside.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think your family would mind?¡± Bernadette asked. ¡°Or the Morgulon? We wouldn¡¯t want to intrude.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t mind, no,¡± Greg said.


    Bernadette nodded slowly. Her fingers worried the hemline of her sleeves, but then she straightened and stepped forwards. It was funny and sad at the same time, how much effort it cost her. But when she crossed the threshold, the rest of her pack followed.


    They all craned their necks, taking in the entrance, the sweeping staircase leading to the upper level. Greg gave them a moment to stare before he went down the hall to the drawing room.


    ¡°This explains a lot,¡± Boris whispered to Fleur as the pack followed.


    Greg pretended not to have heard. What had brought them here?


    He was slightly relieved that Morgulon was outside in the small garden, watching over the cubs playing in the grass. Already, he could feel a faint echo of the old pull the pack had used to have on him. But his family had a far stronger pull.


    ¡°Your family is out?¡± Bernadette asked, as they entered the empty drawing room.


    ¡°Morgulon is in the garden with the cubs,¡± Greg said. ¡°But everyone else is out, yes.¡±


    ¡°We heard,¡± Bernadette said. ¡°That your family went back to hunting.¡±


    ¡°My father and Andrew, yes. They¡¯re just training today, though.¡±


    He considered adding where Lane and Nathan and his mother and Thoko were, but then kept his mouth shut.


    ¡°Please, sit down,¡± he said instead. Might as well play the host, since they were here. ¡°Can I offer you anything?


    To drink,¡± he clarified, when he saw their blank faces. ¡°Or something to eat? Tea?¡± he added to curb the awkward silence. He should have realised that neither one of them had any idea how to be hosted.


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    ¡°Tea.¡± Bernadette jumped on the suggestion. ¡°Sure, I¡¯d like some.¡±


    Greg nodded to the young woman waiting on them. There had been no resignations in a while, or at least none over his presence. That was a relief. The servants who were still working for the family treated him just like they treated his brothers.


    ¡°I still remember when they locked you up in that dungeon with us,¡± Bernadette said, looking after the servant.


    ¡°Well, that was Duke Stuart,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°And David got sort of shirty with him for that.¡±


    ¡°Your brother has gathered much power,¡± Bernadette said slowly. ¡°Will he reach for the crown, too?¡±


    Greg¡¯s jaw dropped. The most surprising thing was that she seemed to be quite in favour of this idea. Even though they were talking about David¡ªthe Relentless.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been brought up,¡± Boris said. ¡°At Fort Brunich.¡±


    ¡°I hope not anywhere where the guards could hear,¡± Greg groaned. ¡°It¡¯s not going to happen, no. Not unless half the nobility of Loegrion drops dead first. He¡¯s a baron¡¯s son,¡± Greg reminded them, because the three were looking at him blankly again. ¡°There¡¯s no way¡­ There are far too many nobles who outrank him who have been jockeying for position ever since things kicked off at Oldstone Castle. Asides, David has no interest in the crown.¡±


    ¡°But it would be better for us, wouldn¡¯t it? If it were him?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure about it,¡± Greg said. Suddenly he was a lot less happy about the servants waiting on them. If word about this discussion reached the palace, there would be trouble.


    Too late to send everyone away, though.


    ¡°I think David is right where he should be,¡± Greg said out loud. ¡°He¡¯s not a politician. Never has been.¡±


    He decided to switch the topic. ¡°You didn¡¯t come here to ask about that, did you?¡±


    Bernadette shook her head. ¡°We will go to war on half moon,¡± she said. ¡°When we heard we could go into the city¡­ It just seemed like a nice idea to visit.¡±


    ¡°Can we see the little ones?¡± Fleur asked. She was bouncing in her chair suddenly, craning her neck.


    ¡°I¡ªguess so?¡± They¡¯d probably already know if Morgulon didn¡¯t want them to join her and the babies in the sun?


    He went ahead, opening the patio door for them. Fleur dashed past him onto the lawn, where Morgulon lay stretched out, wagging her tail lazily in greeting. The moon was a waxing crescent, so most of the playing little ones were looking like babies. Only one of them was a furry wolf cub.


    Fleur sank to her knees. The little wolf promptly came stumbling over to where she sat, to sniff at her hands. To Greg¡¯s surprise, Morgulon made no attempt to stop Fleur when she reached out to pick him up¡ªusually, the elder was more territorial about her litter. Fleur, though, was soon surrounded by all five babies.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it was even possible,¡± she said softly. ¡°We asked around, and everyone else just¡­ It never happened.¡±


    ¡°Well, the age¡­¡± Greg started, and was surprised when she gave him a grin that showed too many teeth, pressed together. Then she quickly ducked her head.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to do it,¡± she said. ¡°In twelve years.¡±


    Greg opened his mouth to protest, but she already went on: ¡°I¡¯ll be sixteen then. Human girls can have children at that age. And that¡¯s what this is about, right? We should all start our lives as werewolves; that¡¯s why it¡¯s such a mess, right? But a sixteen year old can bear a child. So will I.¡±


    Morgulon sighed deeply, but she didn¡¯t try to talk Fleur out of it.


    She will help? she asked, looking at Bernadette.


    ¡°Of course we¡¯ll help,¡± Bernadette huffed. ¡°Both of us.¡±


    Boris nodded along. ¡°Family,¡± he said softly. ¡°That¡¯s what a pack should be, right?¡±


    Good. Morgulon turned her head away, staring into the distance. Good luck. It¡¯s not easy. But with support¡­ With a family by your side¡­ It might be doable.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Fleur said.


    Morgulon didn¡¯t offer to help herself, Greg noted. She just washed the head of one of her sons with a rough tongue. Greg picked up Hewan and cradled her in his lap and watched Almaz scramble after a big fat bumblebee.


    Bernadette sat down next to him, pulling out individual blades of grass.


    ¡°I wanted to apologise,¡± she said softly, ducking her head. ¡°I wanted to apologise,¡± she repeated, ¡°for how things went at First Camp. We were wrong. I was wrong. I should have told you. When the others were tilting. I should have trusted you. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry you got hurt.¡±


    It was Greg¡¯s turn to stare blankly. That was why they had come? Why they had braved walking into the home of the Feleke Four?


    He hadn¡¯t thought about that fight in ages. He had run all the way to the Argentum Formation since then¡ªtwice¡ªhad become a father, braved the palace bureaucracy¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Thank you for visiting, but you don¡¯t need to apologise. Truly. It¡¯s fine.¡± He stroked Hewan¡¯s curly black hair. ¡°I understand it better now,¡± he added. ¡°Why you were scared, I mean.¡±


    ¡°We still should have trusted you.¡±


    ¡°That would have been nice,¡± Greg admitted. ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a rare commodity though, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    He hadn¡¯t meant to sound so bitter, so he quickly added: ¡°I really don¡¯t blame you.¡±


    A shiver ran up his arms when everyone looked at him, and he couldn¡¯t tell if it was the breeze or the way the others were staring.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, too,¡± he said. ¡°For¡ªfor leading you on, Fleur. I didn¡¯t know the wolf¡ªthat I was doing that.¡±


    Fleur tossed her hair. ¡°You seemed happier then,¡± she said. ¡°When you were just wolf. With us. Were you?¡±


    Greg looked at her blankly. ¡°Not really. Back then, I just didn¡¯t think it was possible for things to get better. Made it easier to accept the parts I hated. Asides, everyone at the building site was sleeping on the same floor. What good would complaining have done?¡±


    Hewan stared up at him with huge dark eyes. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder if she would hate him one day.


    ¡°I hate being a werewolf,¡± he said softly. ¡°I hate that our only chance at victory is to subject more people to this curse. I hate that there¡¯s nothing I can do to help. I¡¯m not even brave enough to go to war with you.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t take you, anyway.¡±


    Everybody but the babies jumped when David made himself noticed. Morgulon even growled softly.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t take me. Even if I volunteered? I thought we needed everyone.¡±


    David gave him a forced smile. ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re my little brother, and I¡¯m not risking your life.¡±


    Greg thought it was rather¡ªinappropriate¡ªfor David to say this in front of three werewolves whose lives he was perfectly willing to risk¡ªbut Bernadette and Boris were both nodding as if this made perfect sense.


    ¡°Asides,¡± David added, ¡°I think you¡¯re right where you need to be.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t take you, even if he wanted to, Morgulon commented.


    Greg frowned at her. ¡°Why not? And how do you know?¡±


    David sighed. ¡°We¡¯re trying not to take any werewolves who can resist Ragna and Rust. It¡¯s hard to avoid with some of the older ones, though, so I wouldn¡¯t say that I absolutely can¡¯t take you.¡±


    Greg looked back and forth between them. ¡°You heard her.¡±


    ¡°A little trick I picked up, yes. How do you even know we¡¯re trying not to take werewolves like Greg, Morgulon?¡±


    But the Elder just swatted insects away with her tail.


    ¡°What brings you here?¡± Greg asked, as the silence stretched. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be overseeing final preparations?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to check on our supplies,¡± David said. ¡°Since most of the werewolves have the day off, there¡¯s little for me to do at Fort Brunich. Where¡¯s everyone else?¡±


    ¡°Training, and mother took Thoko into the city for some shopping. Gustave and I¡¯ll be out later.¡± Greg turned to Berndatte and her pack. ¡°Want to come with a friend and I? We¡¯ll probably go down to the race tracks. Maybe catch a show later.¡±


    The three looked at each other. Fleur nodded, wide-eyed.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think your friend will mind?¡± Bernadette asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, no.¡±


    ¡°The theatre will probably run too late,¡± David said. ¡°But here.¡± He reached into a vest pocket, and offered Greg a roll of the paper vouchers. ¡°Have fun. Tell mother I checked in, will you? I need to run.¡±


    And off he went. Burning the candle at both ends, Greg thought. Maybe that¡¯s what you had to do to win a war.


    His fist closed around the paper money, but then he shook off the thought. Right where he belonged, David had thought. Greg supposed that included playing tour guide for the extended family visiting the city for a day.


    Would Berndatte and pack appreciate him looking at them like that?


    They felt like family to him still.

 Chapter 161

    It felt weird, walking home from the train station. David had taken these steps so many times in the past few months. But this time might be the last time.


    Tomorrow, he went to war.


    Were they ready, the press kept asking him.


    Probably not. Rust kept grousing about ¡°green soldiers¡± and ¡°untested commanders.¡±


    And then he¡¯d hurry to assure David that he didn¡¯t count him amongst those. David had pointed out¡ªonce¡ªthat he was quite ¡°untested.¡± Rust had shrugged and said: ¡°Yes, but you do know slaughter.¡±


    David hadn¡¯t brought it up again.


    It was ironic that the thing that had terrified the werewolves about him was now the thing that made them follow him into battle. He almost wished they didn¡¯t trust him quite as much. It just added to the burden. Because he was¡ªwell, barely tested.


    A botched hunt, Oldstone Castle¡ªthat was hardly the same as a war. He¡¯d never been expected to lead a thousand souls to their death.


    Rust and Ragna, his lieutenants, didn¡¯t talk about that part, either.


    The city was brawling around him as he contemplated his own mortality. In Deva, the battle was far away. Even if the citizens liked to think their city was the new forest front against the Rot.


    David smiled to himself. He was glad that it was only him, that Greg and the rest of the family would be safe, here in the heart of the country.


    He wasn¡¯t looking forward to saying goodbye though, which was part of the reason why he was walking home. Drawing out the moment until it was time to hug them all farewell¡­


    But there was only so far he could stretch out the way home from the station.


    Imani hugged him before he fully made it through the front door¡ªshe must have been hovering in the hallway. The last few weeks, she had tried her best to pretend like everything was normal, like he was simply preparing for another hunt, but tonight, the tears streamed down her cheeks before they even sat down for the feast the kitchen had cooked up.


    Nathan hammered his shoulder and was even louder than usual, while Andrew wrapped his arms around him gingerly, as if he was made of glass. Greg hung back, shy in the moment.


    To David, it was all distant, as if his family¡¯s worries had nothing to do with him at all, as if he was just a visitor, witnessing their fears with cold detachment. Bram seemed to notice, because he pressed a glass of brandy in his hands. The heat in his throat brought him back to himself a little.


    ¡°Do you want to get changed before dinner?¡± Imani asked.


    David blinked at her. Yes. Yes, he did want to change into something more comfortable. He picked an old, well-worn sweater and a plain pair of pants¡ªthe opposite of dressing up for dinner. He was allowed that tonight, wasn¡¯t he?


    It was still hard to focus on the food, to stay in the moment. He jumped when a servant walked into the dining room just after the main course was served. He hadn¡¯t heard the bell at all.


    ¡°Your Lordship, His Highness is at the door, asking for you.¡±


    It took David a second to realise that he had been addressed. ¡°Your Lordship¡± had always been Bram.


    And then he groaned inwardly. Now what? What did George Louis want tonight of all nights?


    He looked over to his father and mother, but neither of them seemed to be about to comment. So he turned back to the servant. ¡°Show him into the parlour. I¡¯ll be there in a bit.¡±


    David finished his plate first. It was tempting to keep the duke waiting for a good while. He¡¯d been looking forward to one last quiet evening before going on campaign tomorrow. He was curious, though, too. His Highness had never come to visit him here before, not even when they had been seeing each other.


    David stopped just outside the reception room, to take a deep breath and steel himself for whatever new scheme might be thrown at him. To try and project confidence as he strode in.


    ¡°The parlour, huh?¡± George Louis complained as soon as he saw David. ¡°Way to make a man feel welcome. I suppose I have to be glad it wasn¡¯t the hallway.¡±


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± David cut him off, shutting the door behind himself more forcefully than necessary. His stomach lurched just looking at the duke: George Louis was dressed to impress. The expertly tailored frock coat in navy blue widened his shoulders quite nicely, the collar of his creme shirt and a silk shawl framed his face. Spotless white pants concluded the ensemble. He¡¯d finally shaved that scanty beard, too, making him look more like the young man David had once loved.


    George Louis glared at him. ¡°You¡¯re going away to war tomorrow. Is it such a surprise I want to say goodbye and good luck?¡±


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    David had to curl his fingers into fists to stop himself from playing with the fraying hemline of his own worn, comfortable sweater. So much for one last, quiet evening. ¡°I assumed you¡¯d be at the muster tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Bah.¡± George Louis waved him off airily. ¡°That¡¯s official. Not personal.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re here for what, to give me a kiss and a flower?¡±


    It was a stupid thing to say, David knew it as soon as the words left his mouth. The duke leered at him, eyebrows pulled up high in fake surprise.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t bring a flower. Would you accept a kiss?¡±


    David huffed and turned away. ¡°If that¡¯s all, Your Highness, I thank you for your visit. If I may return to my family now? We were eating dinner.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t in the mood for jokes. Especially no kissing jokes. Especially not from George Louis.


    ¡°David.¡±


    The sound of his name made a shudder run down David¡¯s spine. All the flippancy had gone out of George Louis¡¯s voice. His tone was low, earnest, and he reached out to place a hand on David¡¯s shoulder lightly. When he didn¡¯t pull away, the duke tightened his grip.


    David tried to glare at him over his shoulder, but couldn¡¯t quite hold on to his scowl as George Louis looked at him, concern written all over his face. His lips looked so very soft.


    When he realised where he was staring, David quickly looked ahead again, grinding his teeth together. He really should know better than this by now.


    ¡°David,¡± George Louis repeated. ¡°You¡¯re going to war tomorrow. I am sorry for everything that has happened. For all the mistakes I made. But at least allow me to say good-bye properly. Please. I promise I won¡¯t steal much of your time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, George,¡± David sighed. It was hard not to lean into the hand on his shoulder, though.


    ¡°I will pray to any god that might still listen to me that you will be,¡± George Louis said, voice quiet. ¡°But you have to know that this is even more dangerous than hunting werewolves. That there is no guarantee of a safe return.¡±


    David rolled his eyes and straightened his back. So spoke the man who had started this war. A bit late to start worrying about his soldiers. ¡°Yet you didn¡¯t order me not to go.¡±


    George Louis stepped in even closer, close enough that David could feel his warm breath on his ear and neck as he spoke. ¡°If I believed that I could keep you safe that way, I would have. But you wouldn¡¯t obey that order, would you? Better then that I never say it. The walls have ears in the palace.¡±


    ¡°No one is listening now.¡±


    It was a stupid thing to say. A pointless thing. It was too late. George Louis couldn¡¯t order him to stay now, not after the whole country knew he was going. And even if he could, it wouldn¡¯t change a damn thing.


    When George Louis didn¡¯t speak, David half turned to risk a glance. The duke was looking away, staring at the closed door. His jaws worked and his grip tightened painfully as he turned back to David, bowing his head, leaning in. His eyes fluttered closed.


    ¡°Please,¡± he whispered right next to David¡¯s ear. ¡°Please don¡¯t go. Don¡¯t do this.¡±


    David froze. He hadn¡¯t expected the prideful bastard to actually come out and say it, and certainly not like this.


    It didn¡¯t change the answer, though. ¡°You know that I have to go. You know why.¡±


    ¡°Then promise you will come back to me. Promise me you won¡¯t take any unnecessary risks.¡±


    ¡°I never take unnecessary risks,¡± David protested. He let his head droop, leaning against the duke¡¯s cheek for a second before catching himself.


    ¡°I missed you, David,¡± George Louis whispered as if he hadn¡¯t spoken at all. ¡°I thought I¡¯d lost you. For ten years I thought I¡¯d never see you again. I know it was my own damn fault, but please, don¡¯t make me go through that again. I need you. I need you by my side.¡±


    It was hard to think straight with George Louis¡¯s lips so close to his ear, warm breath tickling his skin. David tried to pull away, to buy himself some distance and reclaim his senses, but George Louis held onto him as if his life depended on it.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± he asked, brushing his lips against David¡¯s neck, ¡°did you miss me at all?¡±


    ¡°Why do you think I stayed away for so long? I knew if I¡¯d give you half a chance I would¡ª¡±


    He freed himself with a jerk, and spun around¡ªwhich was a mistake, because George Louis was right there, catching his hands. He bowed his head but didn¡¯t quite manage to hide the eager smile tugging at his lips.


    ¡°You would what?¡±


    David clenched his teeth together. ¡°Forget myself and run you through,¡± he growled.


    The smile on George Louis¡¯s face widened. ¡°Liar,¡± he whispered. ¡°You¡¯re such a terrible liar. Unless that was a euphemism.¡±


    ¡°I hate you.¡±


    ¡°Liar,¡± George Louis repeated, reaching up to caress David¡¯s face. David stopped breathing at the touch of soft palms, so unlike his own. When he didn¡¯t pull away, George Louis took his face in both hands and leaned in to kiss him.


    Suddenly, he was fifteen again, lips parting eagerly, knees shaking with excitement. He reached out to steady himself, and his hand found George Louis¡¯s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He shouldn¡¯t want this so much. But he did.


    It was George Louis who pulled away first. ¡°Breathe, David,¡± he chuckled, but didn''t let go of David''s face.


    ¡°I hate you,¡± David repeated weakly, mostly to remind himself of that fact, to recall why this was a bad idea.


    ¡°Sure you do.¡± Georg Louis leaned his forehead against David¡¯s. His eyes were closed, his face drawn. ¡°Tell me to go away, and I will. Tell me you don¡¯t want me anymore, and I¡¯ll never try to kiss you again. But I need you to know that I love you.¡±


    David¡¯s breath hitched again. He still wasn¡¯t sure if he could trust his erstwhile lover. But he was tired, too. Tired of being alone. If he was going to make a mistake, wasn¡¯t this the best time? Chances were, they would never see each other again anyways.


    So he gripped the fabric of the duke¡¯s shirt tighter and pulled, jerking him forwards.


    Their lips collided harder this time, eagerly, hungrily. George Louis ran his hands through David¡¯s braids, held onto his head. David¡¯s hands found their way under George Louis¡¯s jacket, both of them holding onto each other, terrified that the moment would end if they let go. David¡¯s tongue traced George Louis''s lips, still familiar. Their tongues met briefly, then George Louis gently tugged at his lower lip with his teeth. David growled, one hand struggling with the buttons on that damn fine, double-breasted jacket.


    Of course, that was when the door opened.

 Chapter 162

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m getting a sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu here.¡±


    George Louis pulled away from him so fast, David stumbled a step forwards. Greg leaned against the door. The closed door, thank goodness.


    ¡°What, Greg? What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Mother wants to know if His Highness will join us for dessert.¡±


    David rubbed his tingling lips, while George Louis tried to be subtle about straightening his clothes. Which was not working. At all.


    ¡°Mother already had a plate brought out. She was going to send a servant, but Morgulon insisted that I go,¡± Greg went on.


    ¡°The werewolf knows about us?¡±


    Greg rolled his eyes at the duke. ¡°What, you don¡¯t remember the first time I found you like this?¡±


    ¡°I meant the other one,¡± George Louis grumbled.


    ¡°Pretty sure she sniffed us out the second she first saw us together,¡± David sighed.


    ¡°They¡¯ve got magic for that, too?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Just a really fine nose, apparently.¡± David replied. ¡°She¡¯s not going to tell anyone, so what does it matter?¡±


    Greg looked back and forth between them. ¡°What do you want me to tell Mum?¡±


    David caught the hem of his old sweater to stop himself from curling his hands into fists in annoyance. ¡°Nothing. We¡¯ll be there in a moment.¡±


    ¡°We will?¡±


    ¡°Unless you want to explain to my mother just why you absolutely cannot stay for dessert, yes, we will.¡±


    For a moment, George Louis seemed to think about it, but then he just gave up on subtlety and closed the buttons on his jacket. ¡°Lead the way, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Smart,¡± Greg said. ¡°By the way, Your Grace, Morgulon says you owe her a favour.¡±


    ¡°And I didn¡¯t before? I was under the impression that all of Loegrion owed her a favour or two. And Deva especially.¡±


    ¡°True, but because everyone owes it, nobody is going to pay it. This one is personal. The servants do talk.¡±


    ¡°No doubt there.¡±


    Greg grinned at David. ¡°Don¡¯t take too long,¡± he said, ducking out of the door before David could do more than glare at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m really tempted to chuck a silver coin at him,¡± George Louis grumbled. ¡°You¡¯re sure the bitch won¡¯t talk?¡±


    ¡°Morgulon won¡¯t,¡± David shrugged. ¡°Other werewolves might.¡±


    George Louis grumbled something inaudible while turning around himself. ¡°Your brother has the most dreadful timing, you know that? Doesn¡¯t this place have a mirror?¡±


    ¡°Eh,¡± David shrugged. ¡°Here, let me¡ª¡± He reached out to straighten the duke¡¯s tie. ¡°Look at it this way: It could have been Nathan.¡±


    ¡°Which would have been worse?¡±


    David tried to imagine Nathan¡¯s face when they walked into the dining room in a moment and grimaced. ¡°Much worse, yes. At least Greg doesn¡¯t giggle.¡±


    He was drawing it out, wasn¡¯t he?


    ¡°Are we ready?¡± he asked, looking George Louis up and down. ¡°How do I look?¡±


    ¡°If I say bad, will that slow you down?¡±


    ¡°You showed up here, unannounced,¡± David pointed out. ¡°Not my fault if your evening is being interrupted.¡±


    ¡°Inviting me for dinner was your idea,¡± George Louis muttered, but he straightened his jacket one last time and then grabbed a large parcel from where he had set it on the table. It was very long, and quite narrow¡ªunwieldy.


    David had been so distracted by the duke, he hadn¡¯t even noticed the box. It was covered with a cloth¡ªprobably to protect the fine wood underneath.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± George Louis said, clearly to forestall David asking about the parcel.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± David asked anyway.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t really think I came here empty handed, did you? Of course you did.¡± The duke sighed. ¡°You¡¯ll see in a moment. If I¡¯m staying for dinner, I might as well prove to your parents I¡¯m not wholly ungrateful.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a sword, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°The faster we get this over with, the faster you¡¯ll see.¡±


    David rolled his eyes, but he went. A new sword would be nice. Not that he needed another one. The duelling sword George Louis had given him last summer was still in perfectly good condition. On the other hand, one could never have too many blades.


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    The maids were watching them, weren¡¯t they? Of course they were. After all, it was His Highness, Duke Stuard, the man about to crown himself king of Loegrion, who was currently eying the hallway¡¯s decorations with interest.


    David wondered what had caught his interest. There were family portraits, some vases, and a bust of the ancestor who had founded the house on Loegrion. A few weapons were hung from the walls, too. A lion¡¯s head was mounted over the library door. From what David had seen of other noble houses, theirs wasn¡¯t particularly noteworthy. Granted, the portraits of his ancestors tended to have a distinct, more colourful style, but the only other difference was probably that the pieces they owned that came from the continent were family heirlooms rather than spoils of war.


    ¡°No werewolf pelts,¡± George Louis noted. ¡°Though, I suppose you sold them after Greg was bitten?¡±


    Right. David supposed there was a distinct lack of¡ªhunter memorabilia here. He stopped in front of the bust of his forefather, wondering what to say. The whole topic was a bit embarrassing. On the other hand, it was history by now.


    ¡°Neither, really,¡± he finally said honestly. ¡°We already sold most of them when the last plague hit, and just never replaced them. You wouldn¡¯t hang the skin of a human from the wall, would you?¡±


    ¡°I suppose not.¡± George Louis looked up to the lion above the door. ¡°I didn¡¯t realise you thought of it that way before the thing with your brother.¡±


    David just shrugged. He didn¡¯t feel like explaining the growing feeling of unease, the way he had tried to rationalise the killing, the way they sometimes, rarely, had let werewolves escape and the way they had all lied to each other about their true feelings for the job they were doing. Had lied to Greg most of all.


    George Louis looked at him expectantly, but David didn¡¯t say anything more on the matter. Once, he might have. But a single kiss wasn¡¯t enough to bring back the trust and intimacy they had lost.


    Instead, David walked forwards, into the dining room. The family rose when the duke followed him. Bram sketched a bow, as if they were at a public gathering.


    ¡°Welcome, Your Highness,¡± he said and claimed: ¡°It¡¯s an honour.¡±


    George Louis smiled rather wryly, but he replied: ¡°The honour is all mine, Lord Feleke. Thank you for the invitation,¡± he added in Imani¡¯s direction. ¡°I failed to bring flowers for the lady of the house, but I hope this gift will make up for it. And that it will keep the bearer safe in the coming battles.¡±


    He presented David with the parcel, pulling away the piece of cloth, revealing beautifully carved wood: Two owls, sitting on a branch like lovebirds. The corners of the box were plated in gold, and the lines of the animals were lined in gold as well. It was clearly quite heavy, too: George Louis struggled to balance it on on hand.


    David felt a morbid urge to see if he would drop it if he didn¡¯t take it, but Andrew already cleared a space on the table, anyways. So David reached out to accept the gift. The wood felt as nice as it looked, smooth and warm in his hands¡ªnot as heavy as George Louis had made him expect, either.


    He had been nearly right about the contents: Inside the beautiful box, on dark purple velvet, rested a sabre in its sheath. Silver inlaid adorned it. It looked both impractical and ostentatious, but it also made David¡¯s finger prickle with magic.


    ¡°It¡¯s a family heirloom,¡± George Louis explained, before David could comment on the sheath. ¡°My father wore it to battle against some of the finest cavalry the Valoise ever fought. I briefly carried it myself, against the Kujawen tribes. However, I believe you¡¯ll be able to make better use of this blade. The sheath is enchanted with the most powerful protective magic my family could pay for.¡±


    Quite powerful indeed, if the tingle in his fingers was any indication. He lifted it out of the cask. The hilt was only slightly over-wrought, with a decent basket¡ªmodified so it wouldn¡¯t impede movement¡ªand a solid tang, proving that this was no dress-sword. It lay well in his hand when he drew it.


    ¡°Careful,¡± George Louis complained when David swung the blade experimentally, which made Nathan snigger.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t give him a sword, then.¡±


    David ignored them. It was a very nice sabre, if at the large side to use on foot. Or within the dining room. But that wasn¡¯t what it was for, anyways, was it? This was a cavalry sabre.


    David did like the balance and the shape of it¡ªstraight enough and stiff enough for a piercing thrust, with a nice spear-tip that was edged front and back for the first several inches, and just enough of a curve to aid in cutting.


    Someone in the Stuard family had known blades. Or employed someone who did.


    ¡°May I?¡± Bram asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s very nice,¡± David said, handing the sword over. ¡°Thank you,¡± he added, looking at the duke.


    ¡°I hope it will serve you well.¡±


    David picked up the sheath again. It was a fine enchantment indeed: he didn¡¯t feel the tingle until his fingers touched it. Which meant the magic didn¡¯t ¡°leak¡± as Pierre called it. There was a tension in the silver, like a tightly wound spring. Something David wouldn¡¯t have recognised a few weeks ago. Would it stop a bullet? It felt like it might.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± David repeated.


    ¡°Perhaps we could sit down then?¡± Imani asked in fond exasperation, looking at Bram who was just passing the sabre over to Nathan.


    There was already a chair and setting added to the head of the table. Which would place George Louis right next to David¡ªand Greg.


    If the duke minded the arrangement, he didn¡¯t show it, though he couldn¡¯t quite hide the flinch when Morgulon poked her head into the dining room. The she-wolf sniffed the air, sneezed, and pulled her head back again without comment.


    David took the sabre back from Nathan and placed it in its sheath. Only when he returned both to the box, he noticed the bag of what looked like the same velvet as the lining sitting in a corner.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he asked, lifting it out.


    ¡°Just something I had lying around.¡±


    That was quite obviously a lie: When David opened the bag, it turned out to be full of coffee beans.


    ¡°Something to return to, perhaps,¡± George Louis said, as David deeply inhaled the familiar aroma. ¡°Or maybe something to share with the family.¡±


    ¡°Is that coffee?¡± Nathan asked. ¡°No way he¡¯s going to share that.¡±


    ¡°Damn right I won¡¯t,¡± David said. He couldn¡¯t stop himself from grinning as he closed the bag again. Quite possibly worth its weight in gold, given that the trade lanes had all been interrupted. George Louis either had to have saved this for a special occasion or he¡¯d bought it at the blackmarket for a ridiculous price.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± David said again. He placed the coffee next to his plate and set the case with the sabre aside. The duke waited until David sat down to follow suit. If Greg noticed the glance George Louis shot in his direction, he didn¡¯t give any sign. David was quite certain that Thoko did notice, but she just pursed her lips.


    Before the silence could turn uncomfortable, the servants brought the dessert course, and then it was just like any other dinner invitation David had ever been part of. He felt himself mentally disconnecting from the small talk as George Louis extensively complimented the food and Imani asked polite questions about his son. Thoko was listening with more interest than he was¡ªprobably to learn from Imani.


    On the other hand, he was glad for the distraction that stopped his family from dwelling on what was going to happen tomorrow¡ªand the days after.

 Chapter 163

    Loegrion called and we answered


    We tossed a coin high in the air


    We will fight the Valoise


    With gun, tooth and claw


    At the cliffs of Port Neaf


    Or the mountains of Sheaf


    Heads or Tails!


    Duke Stuard, he called and we answered


    We¡¯ll take the curse straight to our foe


    Till the battle is done


    And the day has been won


    From the cliffs of Port Neaf


    To the mountains of Sheaf


    Heads or Tails!


    Lord Relentless, we ask for one mercy


    Our coin, it is coming down fast


    If we¡¯re out of our mind


    Our end, make it kind


    At the cliffs of Port Neaf


    Or the mountains of Sheaf


    Heads or Tails!


    The werewolves had their own song.


    One of the volunteers had come up with it, shortly before David had had to cut his throat. Talbot had been his name, Archi Talbot. He had written down his little song, and one of the settled ones who had taken his body away had found it in his pockets. David thought that the gruesome story had helped it to spread.


    It was stuck in his head as he inspected the formation of werewolves¡ªa pointless ordeal, given that they had lined up as if they had all twenty years of experience of it. But he was their commander, and he had to follow protocol. Finally, he took his own position at the head of the formation, still humming the song to himself.


    And then they had to wait, which David had been assured was another fine military tradition. Despite the early hour, he was sweating in his uniform.


    Alvin¡¯s horse pawed the ground nervously. David heard the saddle creak as the boy shifted impatiently. He had to suppress the urge to turn around and give him an encouraging smile. As his orderly¡ªand their youngest officer¡ªAlvin had taken position right behind him.


    Where everyone could see.


    David felt a faint tingle of magic from where Ragna waited next to him, and the creaking stopped. A few seconds later, the mare stopped prancing, too, just as the two dukes appeared, proclaimed by the cheering crowds. Today, the masses of Deva were celebrating¡ªcelebrating a battalion of werewolves led by two werewolf captains.


    And one human major.


    ¡°Lord Relentless,¡± the crowd yelled in between cheering for the dukes who paid for their drinks.


    David hated that name. Or rather, he hated that the humans used it, the people who had no idea what it even meant. Who didn¡¯t know the song, or even if they knew the song, would never have to beg for a swift death from him.


    They had no right to call him that, yet David had no doubt the nickname would stick. Not least because Bram was still ¡°Lord Feleke¡±¡ªand hopefully, would be for a long time to come.


    At least the dukes used his real name when they addressed him both in their speeches. It was high time George Louis crowned himself, David thought, as his own gelding shifted restlessly underneath him. If only so they could cut down the number of speeches needed at these grand occasions.


    Not that this occasion was all that grand.


    Eight hundred ninety eight werewolves waited behind and besides him. Eight hundred ninety eight souls he was about to lead into the meat grinder. Not even the full thousand General Clermont had wanted, but a good strength for an infantry battalion none the less.


    How many would return?


    Heads or tails?


    The song was still stuck in his head as he saluted the dukes and the werewolves presented their arms, and then when he rode ahead of the battalion that marched across the city to the southern train station. Two trains were waiting here: the fully loaded freight train carrying their supplies, and the troop transport that would carry them most of the way to Port Neaf.


    More precisely, the train would take them to Dead End, the aptly named settlement that had sprung up around the railhead.


    The troop transporters were special wagons, with a walkway down the middle and rows of double seating on either side. They were designed to carry as many soldiers as possible¡ªthe soldiers¡¯ comfort was of little concern. Everything was narrow. Taller men sat with their knees almost folded up to their chest.


    It gave David an extra appreciation for Alvin who was following right behind him as he checked on his troops. In the narrow aisle, he stood no chance of defending himself if someone came at him from the side or behind. He wouldn¡¯t even hear them over the rattling of the train.


    There shouldn¡¯t be any spreaders left amongst the soldiers¡ªnot until the next full moon. He had just killed nineteen of them in the days following the last new moon.


    And yet, there was always the risk of an outlier, of someone who didn¡¯t follow the usual patterns. If one of them was sliding, he needed to know right away.


    It made him feel like a renegade warlock, sometimes, conducting the kind of heretical experiments the Church would have rightfully burned him at the stake for¡ªtalking to experimental specimens rather than subordinates.


    ¡°Sir?¡± Alvin asked, when David chuckled darkly at the thought.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± David said. ¡°Let¡¯s find a seat.¡±


    Noone stood out to him, and the sergeants had no complaints, either. So David moved on to the last wagon, furthest away from the engine and the acrid smoke. This was the officers¡¯ carriage¡ªMarques de Burg and Count de Vale had taken the very last compartment and locked the door. They even had their own orderlies sitting with them, rather than risk losing them to the monsters.


    David glared at the door but there was no point in calling them out on it. They hadn¡¯t even been at the muster. Probably didn¡¯t want to be associated with the werewolf battalion.


    Cowards.


    At least his own officers seemed in good spirits.


    ¡°You¡¯re not taking that thing in here, are you, Sir?¡± Ragna complained, grinning, before he could even enter.


    Right. New sword. Silver sheath. Good thing most of the troops were so young they barely even reacted.


    Small mercy.


    David smiled wryly and loosened the tackle from his belt, carefully stashing the sabre right outside the door. The ring at the wall there was probably for umbrellas? Surely, most people wouldn¡¯t leave a weapon out of sight?


    Not that he had to worry about anyone on this train stealing the blade.


    ¡°Thank you, Major,¡± Rust said.


    ¡°Care to join the game, Sir?¡± Neville asked.


    Lenny filled the last seat, with two spots empty for David and Alvin.


    ¡°Deal me in,¡± David said.


    ¡°Alvin?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªsure.¡± The kid was a little awkward around the elders, still. Distracted, too. He folded quickly.


    ¡°So you think the defectors know we''re coming?¡± he asked, without looking at anyone directly.


    ¡°I hope not,¡± David said. That would mean another traitor at the palace.


    ¡°They¡¯ll know something is coming,¡± Rust grunted. ¡°If the rest of the army is doing their job, they¡¯ve been shelling the city day and night to soften them up for us. Asides, they know their own fleet will be there soon, so they know we have to make a push to take the city.¡±


    Alvin considered that. ¡°So, if the city is being shelled day and night, does that mean we¡¯ll just have to sweep in and pick up the stragglers?¡±


    Rust laughed.


    ¡°No, son,¡± he said with a grim smile. ¡°If Port Neaf was a village, all wood and thatched roofs, that might work. But a city built of bricks and stones, that¡¯s a different beast altogether. Word is, we can¡¯t even fire at the garrison proper, there¡¯s so much of the damn city in the way. Even if you destroy a wall¡ªor a whole house¡ªkeep in mind that the heap of rubble remains for us to climb and the enemy to hide behind.¡±


    Alvin blanched at those words.


    ¡°Way to cheer up the troops,¡± Neville commented. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, kid. They¡¯ll shoot you once and you bite their head off before they can reload.¡±


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    What if a werewolf got shot in the head, though?


    Or struck by a cannon ball?


    Alvin didn¡¯t ask, and David didn¡¯t, either. But the question lingered as Neville dealt the next round of cards. For the first time, David wished he¡¯d paid more attention to Little Roy and his experiments with pistols.


    One fact that he knew was this: Of the just over one hundred werewolves in the battalion who were Greg¡¯s age and older, not a single one had ever been shot in the head and survived, or even knew someone who had.


    It didn¡¯t make him hopeful.


    ¡°How¡¯re your grandsons, Lenny?¡± he asked, just to banish the miserable thought from his own head.


    Lenny¡¯s narrow chest swelled with pride and he promptly launched into a story of how he had taken the boys out to sea and the plans he had for after the war.


    ¡°I want to retire with them,¡± he said. ¡°Saving my paper vouchers for it, so I can sit on the porch, smoke a pipe, and not be a burden to Dorothy and the boys. Take them out to sea every day and teach them all the tricks of fishing.¡±


    He looked at David, hope shining on his face. ¡°We¡¯ll get to retire, right, Sir? Once the war is over?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the plan,¡± David said. ¡°That¡¯s my plan, at least,¡± he amended. ¡°Lane¡¯s, too.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯re the dukes saying?¡± Neville asked. ¡°Just¡ªbetween us six, Major?¡±


    David stared out of the window, at the trees speeding past outside. ¡°Duke Desmarais¡ªhe once told me it¡¯s making him feel young again. To look at the country and ask, what if we just did things differently. George Louis¡ªhe¡¯s coming around. Slower than I¡¯d personally like, but it¡¯s happening. And his son found out his mother is a werewolf and begged to meet her anyway.


    ¡°We have a chance to make a difference here,¡± he went on. ¡°If we beat back the Valoise, who knows what the future might bring?¡±


    ¡°...think we can do it?¡± Neville asked.


    ¡°Why do you think I¡¯m here?¡±


    ¡°Cause you¡¯re mad as a hatter, Sir,¡± Neville said, without even hesitating. ¡°You¡¯re like Ragna¡ªeven given just half a chance at revenge, she¡¯d have run at it.¡±


    She bared her teeth at him, smiling proudly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s driving you, major,¡± Neville went on. ¡°But I¡¯m not asking if there¡¯s some kind of theoretical possibility. I want to know if you think us, as in this battalion, will take Port Neaf tomorrow.¡±


    What was he supposed to say to that?


    ¡°I¡¯m not a seer, and this is my first battle, too,¡± David pointed out. ¡°Ask Rust if you want an expert¡¯s opinion.¡±


    But Rust glared at the younger werewolf and David saw Neville¡¯s jaw clench.


    ¡°Don¡¯t jinx us, Neville,¡± Lenny said instead. ¡°You start talking of victory before the battle even starts, that¡¯s gotta be bad luck.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t even want to know the odds?¡± Neville asked.


    This time, Rust sighed. ¡°You¡¯re all such greenhorns. There¡¯s no way of knowing the odds, Neville. You can¡¯t ever know what it is you don¡¯t know, and what you don¡¯t know will kick you in the arse.¡±


    The elder sighed again and added: ¡°General Clermont is a cautious bastard. Some of the officers I served under went so far as to call him a glorified coward. And he¡¯s the one who is ordering this attack. Make of that what you will.¡±


    Neville ducked his head, looking down at the cards in his hands. He didn¡¯t ask any more questions about the battle, focusing on the game. Alvin didn¡¯t play the round, staring out of the window instead.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been so far south,¡± he noted. ¡°Think we¡¯ll make it all the way to the southern coast, Sir? I hear they grow strange things down there.¡±


    ¡°I can ask Marques de Burg if he¡¯ll take you to Southshire,¡± David offered. ¡°Once the war is over, I mean. They grow tobacco there, and cotton.¡±


    Alvin¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Think he would let me see it? I want to see the whole country! All the way to the west coast! Think we¡¯ll ever get the railway to Clyde¡¯s Pass, Sir?¡±


    ¡°In a decade, sure,¡± David said. ¡°Once they got the tunnels through the mountains figured out.¡±


    Could he talk de Burg into taking Alvin?


    Not today, that was for sure.


    When they arrived at Dead End, de Burg and de Vale unlocked their compartment and hurried out the wagon, only to hover around David like moths around a lamp while their helpers unloaded their horses. They had to ride¡ªmarch in the case of the soldiers¡ªa distance of about six miles to the war camp. They¡¯d be bogged down with carts, too. It wasn¡¯t yet noon, but it was unlikely that the mules would make it all the way to the camp before dusk set in. To make the carters more nervous, clouds had moved in from the sea, unloading a light drizzle on the carts.


    Rust and Ragna supervised the unloading of the supplies, especially the precious black powder. No dampness could get into the wooden crates, or it wouldn¡¯t fire. David just watched. It still felt strange to him to do nothing while others handled the supplies that would decide over his life and death in a few hours. He would never have allowed a servant to pack his gear for a hunt.


    The other two nobles just looked bored. De Burg checked his pocket watch every two minutes, impatiently stepping from one foot onto the other. Which was unfair. The werewolves were working as fast as they could, and by noon, they were off. David had a dozen of the older werewolves in wolf shape to secure the wagon train, several unsettled veteran soldiers on horseback as scouts, and the rest of them walked after the carts as humans. Hopefully, from a distance a scout wouldn¡¯t be able to tell how many werewolves exactly were on the march here.


    ¡°I wish I shared your faith in them,¡± de Burg grunted, as he directed his horse next to David¡¯s gelding. He looked David up and down, adding, ¡°You aren¡¯t wearing the red band?¡±


    He nodded over at de Vale, who wore a bright band around his thigh, quite striking against the white pants of the uniform.


    ¡°What is that about?¡± David asked.


    De Vale looked down his nose at him. ¡°You don¡¯t know? You of all people?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a message to the healers,¡± de Burg explained. ¡°In case of a debilitating injury. A way to signal that one would prefer a clean amputation and a bite over a prolonged magical attempt at salvaging the limb.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen what the healers call a ¡®saved¡¯ limb,¡± de Vale sneered. ¡°A lifetime of pain and hardly any movement, that¡¯s what they gifted my father with. I¡¯ll take the coin toss and keep fighting for Loegrion.¡±


    De Burg shook himself, but both of them turned to look at David. ¡°Do you want a band?¡±


    David stared down at his hands, holding the reins. ¡°Thank you, but no. Greg is the lucky one in the family.¡±


    He was a killer already. Better not to add a monster into the mix. He couldn¡¯t imagine that he would turn out any better than the woman Nathan had killed north of Deeshire.


    And he didn¡¯t deserve to join their numbers anyway. He had killed too many of them for that.


    ¡°You would risk a crippling injury over the bite?¡±


    ¡°My brother lost his leg at Oldstone Castle and he¡¯s still hunting,¡± David countered.


    And moreover, there was a price on his head specifically. He didn¡¯t think his chances of surviving any injury were great.


    ¡°It¡¯s a different situation for me, Count de Vale,¡± he went on, since the other man was still glaring. ¡°If I were to lose the coin toss, I would force my own father or brothers¡ªor my fianc¨¦e¡ªto kill me. Our family went through those terrible five months once, and got lucky. I¡¯d rather not put them through that again.¡±


    ***


    In the distance, held down by the rain, David spotted a pale plume of smoke, and he thought he could already smell black powder. Maybe it was just his imagination. The mules pulling the supply carts barely flicked their ears, and neither did the eight werewolves guarding them.


    Right and left of the road, the land was already devastated by the fighting. The fields had been trampled, forests cut down for wood and the stumps burned. The remains of pyres stood black against the grey sky, witness of the carnage along the way. Cavalry attacks against the slow wagon trains from the southern breakaway provinces were not unusual.


    And had allowed the Rot to take a hold, even here in the heartlands.


    There was nothing moving anywhere today, but the drivers manning the carts still looked scared. All the more so when dusk fell.


    De Vale thought similarly. ¡°What if the Valoise raise the Rot tonight?¡±


    David almost laughed at the thought. It was Ragna who turned in the saddle to look over the barren land to the south.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see them try,¡± she said.


    However, it wasn¡¯t the Rot that came after them. Just before night truly fell, a frantic horn was sounded by their most southern outriders.


    ¡°Cavalry,¡± de Burg cursed. ¡°Have your soldiers make ready¡ª¡±


    David rolled his eyes and turned to Rust. He didn¡¯t even need to say anything. The elder was already climbing out of the saddle, tossing the reins to Alvin. He shrugged out of his uniform at surprising speed. As their own riders raced back to the supply train, the giant russet wolf jogged in the other direction, up a small hill¡ªthe first riders of the enemy charge were nearly in musket range, when Rust finally raised his head and howled.


    At the sound, the enemy¡¯s horses panicked. The charge that had just picked up speed broke like a wave on a cliff, as if there was an unseen wall right and left of Rust. Horses reared. Cavalrymen were carried away or outright thrown from the saddle, some even trampled.


    It was a directional effect: David¡¯s own gelding and the lords¡¯ war-horses barely threw their heads, and the mules behind them didn¡¯t react at all.


    ¡°Ragna, take the eight guards and see if you can pick up some of the stragglers,¡± David ordered. ¡°Don¡¯t kill them, just bite them. Gently, if you can.¡±


    Ragna nodded and grinned.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to have wild werewolves all over the south,¡± de Burg groaned.


    David grunted. ¡°If they¡¯re smart, it won¡¯t do anything.¡±


    But he hoped they would be no smarter than he had been, refusing to even look at Greg¡¯s injuries¡­


    Nervously, he glanced over his shoulder as the line of supplies slowly continued, until finally, Ragna and her eight returned, their faces smeared with blood.


    ¡°We got most of their horses,¡± Ragna reported after she had cleaned herself as much as possible and gotten dressed on a cart. ¡°Had to kill a bunch of soldiers, too, or it would have been too obvious what we were doing. We let about a dozen of them run back, lightly bitten.¡±


    ¡°Well done,¡± David said. ¡°Any injuries on our side?¡±


    ¡°No lasting ones, Sir.¡±


    Well, that was something.


    ¡°Well done,¡± David repeated.


    Ragna accepted it with a faint smile. They both knew the actual battle would be nothing like this. This fight had looked easy because the lightly armed riders hadn¡¯t known they were going to face werewolves or about Rust¡¯s little trick. They had counted on the element of surprise, not on being surprised themselves. If that howl worked a second time, it would be sheer luck. Furthermore, this had been an ideal battlefield from the werewolves¡¯ perspective. No fire, no cannons, no grenades¡ªall the things the coming battle would bring en masse had been missing here.


    Still, good for morale.


    ***


    Before the camp came into view, the bellow of cannons in the distance was audible. The incessant roar never stopped as the supply train drew nearer. The werewolves craned their necks, looking towards the hills that hid Port Neaf and the camp from view. The last shimmer of sunlight had vanished by the time they arrived at the camp. The cannons were still roaring, and at the horizon, Port Neaf was burning. At least the outer districts.


    A good distance away from the city, shielded from the defenders¡¯ artillery by a small ridge, the campfires of the Loegrian army burned. It was a vast camp, at least to David¡¯s untrained eye. Some eight thousand men, not that he could count them all in the dark. Earthworks and palisades protected the camp from cavalry charges like the one Rust had just defeated. Behind them, hundreds of empty cages were lined up. Tents had already been prepared for them, and the quartermaster and his helpers were directing the werewolves on where to go.


    A nervous ensign, as young as Alvin, presented himself formally and led David to the command tent in the centre of the camp, where he reported to Clermont. By the time the general had finished congratulating him for the werewolves¡¯ first victory, Alvin had taken care of the horses and stood ready to lead the way to their tent. When he saw his field bed, David had to admit his new rank had its perks, too. Not having to sleep on the ground was certainly nice.


    Provided he found any sleep at all.

 Chapter 164

    While the Marques de Burg, Lord Warden of Southshire, rode into the siege camp outside Port Neaf, his wife and daughter threw a formal dance at the palace. It made Greg feel odd as he followed his parents and Andrew onto the Grand Galerie, wearing his best suit and holding onto Thoko¡¯s hand. He was grateful, too, grateful and surprised to even be invited to this event. Everybody who was somebody in the country was here tonight.


    To one end of the gallery, there was a chamber orchestra set up, with a dance floor in front. The other half had long tables set up for a very later supper¡ªto be served long after midnight. In the meantime, there was a buffet line to ensure no guests lost their strength. The event was to last all night, until in the morning, the attack on Port Neaf commenced.


    It felt inappropriate, to dine on the rich buffet that the house the Burg had sponsored, and maybe dance to the soft, gentle violins while elsewhere the cannons roared.


    Frivolous.


    But such was life at the palace, and such were the politics played here: Music and dancing and socialising. And the gossiping about the missing guest of honour: Would Duke George Louis announce his coronation tonight? Or what else could the war council convene about on the night before the attack?


    ¡°They should have events like this on the first night of full moon,¡± Thoko commented when they passed by the rich buffet. ¡°Are we supposed to spend all night eating?¡±


    ¡°You could also try to fill your dance card,¡± Greg suggested.


    Thoko rolled her eyes at him. ¡°As if anyone here would dance with me.¡±


    ¡°Their loss.¡±


    Plenty of people did give them the side-eye: A werewolf and a common-born woman. No doubt the ladies de Burg were making a statement by including them, but Greg wasn¡¯t entirely sure what the message was.


    Or perhaps, there was no message at all, and Thoko and he were simply window dressing to distract from Charlotte and Andrew talking far longer than his rank warranted.


    Andrew was serving as the unofficial guard Greg totally didn¡¯t need¡ªNathan had outright refused to come, Lane was taking David¡¯s place at the war council, and Bram was working the room, Imani by his side. Greg pressed his lips together as he spotted them talking to a couple of young lords who no doubt dreamed of becoming famous ¡°monster hunters¡± one day, too.


    Greg and Thoko drifted across the Grand Galerie, Andrew sticking nearby. It was noticeably different from having David in the room. Starting a conversation was more difficult if there was no risk for the other party of angering the duke¡¯s right hand man. The aristocrats present were more wary of Greg, and more likely to snub Thoko, too.


    Even though she looked every part a lady. Better than most of the other women present, in fact, Greg thought. She had both a natural grace and beauty exemplified by the emerald gown Imani had helped her pick. And of course the elaborate hairdo. Yamikani had wrapped Thoko¡¯s braids like a crown around her head.


    Lady Pettau promptly asked who the hairdresser had been, then eyed Andrew with so much interest that Charlotte materialised at his elbow.


    Greg didn¡¯t quite manage to fight down the jealousy as Andrew asked his lady to dance. It wasn¡¯t like he wanted any of these smiling girls and women. But Andrew and Nathan were both suddenly highly desirable bachelors, simply for being David¡¯s brothers.


    That was another big betting pool: Was George Louis making David¡¯s promotion contingent on his success on the battlefield, or was he waiting for his own coronation before he bestowed a new title on David? And which title?


    No parents would pitch their daughters to Greg in any case. David could win the war for Loegrion single handedly and be crowned a duke, it wouldn¡¯t change a thing. And that was fine, really¡ªhe had Thoko by his side, and his daughters¡ªhe would have said no if any lady had asked him to dance.


    But he knew they wouldn¡¯t. Not even Berenice.


    And yes, it was hard not to resent that.


    Just as he resented not being allowed to the war council. He was sure all the other nobles there had aides and helpers. Not Lane. One didn¡¯t take Nathan into a meeting like that, and she hadn¡¯t asked Grooch. And Greg still wasn¡¯t an option.


    What were they talking about this long anyways? The big attack didn¡¯t happen until tomorrow morning. How much could there possibly be to discuss at this hour?


    ¡°Stop craning your neck,¡± Thoko muttered when he checked on the doors again to see if Lane and the rest of the council were joining them yet. ¡°Let¡¯s hit the buffet?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Greg sighed. It was half moon, but maybe having something to munch on would help his mood anyway.


    It would have helped more if people hadn¡¯t given him a wide berth, now that Andrew was gliding across the dancefloor with Charlotte and not around to shadow him. But still, the food was nice¡ªthe de Burg¡¯s weren¡¯t cheapskates. There was some very nice seafood, making use of the new railway connections, and some classic luxuries, like the preserved wild mushrooms that accompanied a lot of dishes. Given how few parts of Loegrion were safe for harvest¡ªor used to be safe to harvest¡ªthey were quite expensive.


    Thoko wrinkled her nose at them. ¡°I don¡¯t like the texture,¡± she explained when Greg looked at her in surprise. ¡°Fresh is fine, or freshly cooked, you know? But I don¡¯t like them in vinegar.¡±


    ¡°More for me, I suppose,¡± Greg shrugged, and stole the slice she had pushed aside from her plate.


    Thoko smiled and rolled her eyes at him. ¡°Think there¡¯ll be anything left by the time the dukes get here?¡±


    ¡°I bet the de Burgs are sending food up to the council,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°Asides,¡± he nodded towards a servant, ¡°refills are coming in all the time. See?¡±


    A man with a large serving platter was just refilling the trout canap¨¦s.


    Thoko helped herself to one of them. ¡°Not bad,¡± she decided. ¡°Now what? Do we try to make nice or try to have fun?¡±


    Greg blinked. They were here to make nice, of course, but¡­ ¡°What did you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°Well, we could dance. See if we can clear the floor.¡±


    Dancing would be fun. Clearing the floor less so. But did she even know formal dances? He thought they had danced the night they had celebrated the completion of the line to Sheaf, but his recollection of that night was fuzzy, and in any case, it would have been nothing like what was danced at court?


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°That¡¯s a waltz,¡± Thoko said, rolling her eyes before he could even ask. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that! Who doesn¡¯t know how to waltz?¡±


    Right. He let himself be pulled along. No doubt that would already raise more eyebrows, that she had asked him, not the other way round. Then again, he was the werewolf. The lords and ladies of good breeding who wanted to disagree with his presence would do so one way or the other.


    Thoko could dance well¡ªbetter than he, probably. But they could not clear the dance floor, mostly because Charlotte announced in what Greg recognised as a fake huffy that she wouldn¡¯t be upstaged by a werewolf at her own party. Andrew obligingly offered her his arm again and a bunch of other nobles followed suit.


    ¡°How did those two ever avoid detection?¡± Thoko whispered to Greg. ¡°They aren¡¯t exactly subtle.¡±


    ¡°I suppose they used to be more careful?¡±


    Even as the nobles tried to prove that they weren¡¯t scared of him, a wide space stayed open around Greg. He finally found himself relaxing as he made use of the room to twirl Thoko around. Maybe it wasn¡¯t such a bad idea, to just enjoy the evening? If David became the Hero of Port Neaf tomorrow, did it really matter what everyone thought?


    He refused to consider the option that his brother might fail.


    As more guests found their nerves, the space around them grew smaller. Soon, Greg and Thoko were just one in a sea of twirling couples. Not belonging. But close enough. Not part of, but tolerated by the pack.


    And where did that thought come from?


    Greg listened into himself. Making sense of the beast¡¯s thoughts was still hard, but tonight he felt¡ªcontent. The wolf, too, enjoyed holding Thoko close, even if she wasn¡¯t like them.


    Interesting.


    It could have been an almost perfect night, if the council hadn¡¯t eventually finished their endless deliberations to join the party. The music stopped when they did. Lady de Burg gave a speech, thanking everyone for attending and toasting ¡°to victory on the morrow.¡±


    Which made Greg realise that he didn¡¯t have a glass. Ah well.


    When he looked around, George Louis was of course staring back at him. To Greg¡¯s relief, the duke went along when Desmarais pulled him along to the buffet. Greg and Thoko got themselves something to drink from the waiters walking around, then returned to the dancefloor.


    ***


    ¡°Not going to toast to your own brother?¡±


    Duke George Louis appeared behind Greg as soon as Greg and Thoko took their next pause to have something to drink.


    What was it with this man? For someone who professed to fear werewolves, he didn¡¯t seem to be able to stay away, either.


    Or was that just because Greg had told Desmarais about it?


    Maybe George Louis was trying to disprove the point, dragging the older duke along. Desmarais smiled grandfatherly. His wife was there, too, and Picot. Lane was nodding at Greg. He could tell she was trying not to roll her eyes as Andrew and Charlotte joined them as well. Andrew was unsubtly looking back and forth between Greg and His Highness.


    ¡°One shouldn¡¯t sell the pelt before the werewolf isn¡¯t dead, Your Highness,¡± Greg replied. ¡°At least that¡¯s what my father used to say.¡±


    ¡°Interesting words, coming from you.¡±


    The duke¡¯s stare was intense, even belligerent. As if to break the standoff, Picot waved over a waiter who carried a large serving tray with little plates of finely sliced, very pink beef, topped with wild mushrooms in a dark sauce.


    Duke George Louis sniffed but let Picot push one of the miniature plates into his hands. ¡°Food fit for a werewolf,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Oh, shush,¡± Lady Desmarais admonished him. ¡°You liked it fine earlier.¡±


    Lane shook her head with a tired smile as the waiter turned, while Andrew took one.


    ¡°You need to eat, Lady deLande,¡± Duke Desmarais chided her. ¡°You¡¯ll need all your strength, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    He was just about to take a bite himself, when Andrew hit his arm with the edge of his flat hand. It wasn¡¯t a friendly jostle, either.


    ¡°Hoy,¡± Desmarais yelped in surprise, dropping his plate. ¡°What the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Poison!¡± Andrew yelled over him. ¡°That¡¯s deathcap mushroom!¡±


    Greg stared at the food on the floor, little pieces of beef and mushrooms amidst the shards of broken porcelain. The cheerful violin was a dreadful contrast to the shocked silence of the people standing around him. He blinked and stared at the servant, who blinked back unmoving, too.


    The servant was the first person to move: he dropped the platter in a shower of food and sprinted away.


    ¡°Hold that man,¡± George Louis ordered. His voice was toneless, though, and Greg doubted anyone beyond their group had heard.


    So he took off after the servant. He wasn¡¯t about to argue with Andrew when it came to mushrooms.


    The man in the black uniform was fast. Where was Nathan when you needed him?


    The stranger knew the palace better, too, especially the service corridors they were sprinting down. A bunch of maids yelped and flattened themselves against the wall.


    ¡°Stop, dammit,¡± Greg panted. ¡°Don¡¯t make me¡ª¡±


    The suspect smashed a door into his face. At the sudden, blinding pain, the wolf roared. Greg let it rip him apart, him and his clothes. It was possibly his fastest transformation yet¡ªviolent, too.


    When he regained control of his body, he was completely turned around and the maids were screaming louder. Greg ignored them, sniffing at the door the servant had touched. It wasn¡¯t hard to find the freshest scent. It was heavy, hanging in the air, sweat and something pungent. Something familiar.


    Fear.


    The servant had good reason now to be afraid. Greg wasn¡¯t Morgulon, but a track this fresh was impossible to lose.


    And the wolf didn¡¯t bother with opening doors, either. Even though it hurt like hell to go through them.


    If the servant had run straight for the closest gate, or had stuck to the public corridors, Greg might not have caught him. The guards there might well have stopped a werewolf barreling down the hallways. But the fugitive, having escaped Greg¡¯s sight for a moment, made the mistake of trying to hide.


    Greg went right past the closet, then had to trace back his steps and sniff out the right door. Thankfully, it was a linen closet, so Greg turned human and grabbed a large tablecloth to wrap himself into.


    ¡°If you run again, I¡¯ll bite you.¡±


    That stopped his target from inching closer to the door while Greg covered himself. Instead, the servant slumped against the shelving, hitting his head at one of the boards. He rubbed it, glancing up at Greg. He was small, slender to the point of looking mal-nourished. Strong arms, though. Older than Greg. Probably older than David, too, though it was hard to tell with the gaunt cheeks. The uniform looked like any other uniform Greg had seen at the palace, though he had to admit, he didn¡¯t often look at the help that closely.


    ¡°Did you know the food was poisoned? Did someone pay you?¡±


    The man shook his head silently.


    ¡°Did you notice anything unusual in the kitchens?¡±


    The servant¡¯s lips trembled, but no sound came out of his mouth. He just stared at Greg with huge eyes. Didn¡¯t even flinch when Greg grabbed his arm to haul him up.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Am I¡ªam I going to the gallows?¡±


    ¡°Not my job to decide that. Let¡¯s move.¡±


    Only when the man did, did Greg remember that he had no idea where to take his prisoner. The Grand Galery probably? No guard would help him, not while all he wore was a tablecloth, so he needed to find Andrew of Lane. Check on his parents. Thoko was going to be fine, wasn¡¯t she? Since she hadn¡¯t eaten the mushrooms?


    And what about Andrew? How closely had he looked at his food while talking to Charlotte? How many poisoned servings had there been?


    The bloody tablecloth kept sliding off his chest. He had to hold onto it, drag the servant along with his other hand. It was a good thing the man wasn¡¯t resisting.


    He really could have done with some proper clothes. Could he risk taking his prisoner up to David¡¯d office first?


    But what was the worst that could happen? A human couldn¡¯t outrun a werewolf.


    Would the guards try to stop him if he had to give chase again? Surely, word about what happened was spreading already. Was anyone arresting the chefs?


    Screw this, he wasn¡¯t going to deal with the assembled nobility in the nude.

 Chapter 165

    When Greg returned to the Grand Galerie, still dragging the servant along and dressed in the emergency suit he had stashed at David¡¯s¡ªnow Lane¡¯s¡ªoffice, the place was in a state of quiet panic. The watch had been summoned, and so had the doctors. The guests were clustering around the latter, many of them clutching at their chests and bellies, while the doctors handed out tinctures. The former poked around, checking the food on the buffet and the splatter on the ground where the tray had been dropped, not touching the food.


    Andrew stood with a watch officer at a table. Another group of nobles was gathered around them, watching nervously as Andrew inspected a dish. There were already a couple of plates to his right side, but this one went back to the buffet with a watchman. Greg thought he heard people sigh in relief at that.


    Another plate was delivered promptly, but Andrew pushed it back right away. ¡°I told you, ignore the fresh mushrooms.¡±


    So that dish went back to the buffet, too.


    In a corner, frightened servants were being herded by the palace guard. As Greg slowed, Lane walked over, a couple of more guards in tow.


    ¡°This is the servant?¡± she asked, and before Greg could do more than nod, she turned to the men following her: ¡°Take him to the cells. Do not let anyone close to him. Check the food you serve him. If anything happens to this man, I¡¯ll hold you responsible for that. We need him alive for questioning.¡±


    ¡°Should I¡­¡± Greg trailed off, glancing around uncertainly. He didn¡¯t want to go down to the cells with the prisoner. He wanted to talk to Thoko and check on his parents, and find out what the hell was going on. But Lane was right, they couldn¡¯t risk losing their witness.


    Wait. Where were those servants going with all those buckets?


    ¡°Let the guards do their job,¡± Lane said. Softer, she added: ¡°I might still need you up here.¡±


    She looked pale, Greg thought.


    ¡°How bad is it? Are you feeling well?¡±


    ¡°I have been fasting all day,¡± Lane said. ¡°So yes, I¡¯m fine. Everyone else¡­¡± She fidgeted with her fan, running her fingers through the folds. ¡°The beef dish Andrew first warned us about was amongst the ones that were served at the war council. Unless the attacker is incompetent, we have to assume that the dukes have both been poisoned, though you might be interested to hear that Lord Picot stuck to the trout.¡±


    ¡°Picot, huh?¡±


    Lane smiled grimly. ¡°He¡¯s like a bad penny, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    Picot had been the one to hand the poisoned food to the dukes, too. Pushed it at them, really. Just like he had pushed David at deVale. And he had been at that casino when David¡¯s office had been searched.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to need proof,¡± Lane added. ¡°Or a confession. Keep an eye on him, will you?¡±


    ¡°Me.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be poisoned and he pretends to like you. And chances are, in a few hours I¡¯ll be the highest born noble in the whole palace who isn¡¯t puking their guts out.¡±


    ¡°What about my parents? Thoko?¡±


    ¡°No one knows,¡± Lane said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Greg, but everyone is asking the same thing. Andrew is checking all the dishes, but given that they¡¯ve been refilled throughout the night¡­ It¡¯s just impossible to tell who ate what at this point. It¡¯s going to take hours until symptoms appear. Until then¡ª¡±


    She grimaced when somebody retched close by.


    ¡°Until then, the doctors are handing out tinctures to make everyone throw up everything they ate.¡±


    So that was what the buckets were for.


    ¡°Did someone call for healers, though?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Everyone with a spark of magic is being roused as we speak, Greg. Bishop Larssen is hanging around.¡±


    ¡°Has he been fasting, too? How convenient.¡± Greg sighed. Larssen, too, might have been receiving the spy¡¯s intel at the casino. ¡°I¡¯ll go looking for Picot,¡± he said. ¡°Just let me check on¡­¡±


    He trailed off, searching the room for his family. The Grand Galerie was rapidly turning into an infirmary, as servants carried in seats and even simple beds, and curtains to separate them. The small palace sick wing would hold barely a fraction of the nobles milling about worriedly, and apparently it had been decided not to split everyone up into the city¡¯s hospitals.


    Thoko caught his eyes, waving. She was standing with Imani, who had accepted a seat. Greg hurried over.


    ¡°Did you get him?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°How¡¯re you feeling?¡±


    ¡°How am I feeling? I¡¯m fine! You¡¯re the ones who¡­¡±


    Might die. No, would die, if they had eaten from the wrong platter tonight.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t eat the preserved mushrooms, remember? Andrew is quite positive that that¡¯s where the danger lies.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t eat much of it,¡± Imani said, sounding hoarse. ¡°And not all the mushroom dishes appear to contain the death cap.¡±


    ¡°Father?¡±


    ¡°He says he¡¯s fine.¡± Imani rested her chin in one hand. ¡°He knows mushrooms, too. Not quite as well as Andrew, and neither of us was paying much attention to the food. But maybe¡­¡±


    Greg looked at his mother. A sheen of sweat stood on her forehead, but her dark skin looked dull underneath that, without the usual lustre.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look well,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m scared,¡± his mother admitted freely. ¡°And whatever drought the doctors are passing out certainly isn¡¯t helping. I feel like I threw up everything I¡¯ve eaten all week.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope so,¡± Greg muttered. He looked around the room again.


    ¡°Your father is with the dukes. The doctors decided to separate them after Lady deLande¡¯s testimony,¡± Imani said. ¡°Who¡¯re you looking for?¡± she added, when Greg just grunted.


    ¡°Lane mentioned that Marquess Picot stuck to the fish. She¡¯d like me to keep an eye on him.¡±


    ¡°How sure are we that you won¡¯t be affected?¡± Thoko asked. She glanced at Imani, then him, clutching her hands together as if to still her fingers.


    ¡°Morgulon said it can¡¯t be done,¡± Greg reminded her. ¡°And it¡¯s a waxing half moon. I might be worried if it was new moon coming up, but this way¡­¡±


    He rubbed his neck. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me,¡± he added. ¡°You¡¯ll be here?¡±


    ¡°I believe so,¡± Imani said. ¡°Go find your suspect.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a bit,¡± Greg promised.


    Picot was talking to a doctor when Greg approached. The Marquess received one of the little glass vials the physicians were handing out, then approached a servant who had a stack of buckets. Greg shuddered and decided that he didn¡¯t need to watch that next part.


    If he was the traitor, Picot was certainly dedicated to the act.


    If he wasn¡¯t, well, a bit of nausea was probably nothing compared to the risk of death cap poisoning. Andrew had used to warn him about it when he was much younger, to stop him from picking up random mushrooms in the forest. It was a slow, gruelling death. By the time the first symptoms appeared, the poison had spread throughout the body and doctors could only ease the suffering. Only healers could help. A little.


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    Even magic hadn¡¯t saved the late Marquess Rover.


    Had that been the same poison? Had they ever found out for sure?


    Greg stared at the buffet, at all the uneaten food. By now, most dishes had been checked by Andrew, forming a line of ¡°safe¡± serving trays. Shame to waste so much. The watch was taking away the ones that were suspected of poison for further inspection. Only the test servings remained at the table with Andrew.


    Without really thinking about it, Greg picked up a slice of cheese to munch on, which earned him a shocked gasp from a lady walking past. Greg shrugged and helped himself to another piece. It wasn¡¯t like it could hurt. And nobody else was going to eat this spread.


    Good food, too.


    When he turned away from the buffet, Picot looked just as sweaty and pale as the other nobles. He was back to talking to a doctor. The physician looked harried, polishing his glasses aggressively.


    ¡°...no way to tell, Your Lordship. Not at this point. I depends on what mushrooms were eaten, how much of them, how long ago, how much was digested before the attack was noticed and an emeticum applied¡­¡±


    ¡°But if it is the death cap,¡± Picot pressed the doctor. ¡°What should we expect? What¡ªwhat are the odds?¡±


    ¡°I would not wish to speak to that,¡± the doctor said. ¡°Panic will not help. We do have some healers, and ways to mitigate the worst magical side effects.¡±


    He pushed his spectacles up his nose and pointedly looked at Greg.


    Picot turned around and smiled tersely, wringing his hands. Worried? Acting?


    Greg had no idea how to tell the difference.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, it¡¯s good to see you. You won¡¯t be affected in any case, will you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a relief. I have to confess, I wasn¡¯t looking forward to managing this crisis alone.¡±


    Greg raised his eyebrows at him.


    ¡°Mushrooms don¡¯t agree with me,¡± Picot explained, smiling ruefully. ¡°I did follow the doctor¡¯s recommendation and took one of the tinctures, but simply as a precaution. I rather believe that if I had eaten a mushroom dish, I wouldn¡¯t have needed the draught. Whereas the rest of the council¡­¡±


    He trailed off. ¡°How are your parents?¡±


    ¡°Worried, as everyone else. What about the rest of the council?¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose Lady deLande might be unafflicted,¡± Picot looked around and lowered his voice, ¡°but your brother has confirmed that the food delivered to the council was containing the mushrooms. The doctor assures me it will be a few more hours before we know for sure, but I¡¯m wondering if it wouldn¡¯t be wiser to raise the prince right away.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Greg asked.


    Picot couldn¡¯t truly mean¡ª


    ¡°Prince George of course,¡± Picot said. ¡°Surely, it would only be proper to turn to him while his fathers is¡ªinconvenienced? Duke Stuard was not crowned, but I would assume that any lord of Loegrion would be willing to treat the situation as if he had been.¡±


    Greg had some serious doubts about that. Not least because Prince George was a child. It would be years before he came of age.


    ¡°Obviously, His Highness would need advisors, people familiar with the situation at hand, not just here, but at Port Neaf, too,¡± Picot went on. ¡°Which is why I think we should rouse him early. We wouldn¡¯t want Count Levier to get to him first, would we?¡±


    Of course.


    Greg had to admit, he rather admired Picot¡¯s nerve.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think your brother would back the prince?¡± the Marquess asked, looking innocent.


    What if Picot was right? What if more nobles turned to Prince George? Seeing his father lying sick would be scary enough even if George Louis survived. The kid didn¡¯t need a bunch of old men trying to influence him to do as they said on top of that.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think David is the problem,¡± Greg said slowly, thinking fast. ¡°We will need to move quickly. And find someone trustworthy to take him here. Would you mind if I send a message to my brother Nathan?¡±


    ¡°Is he not here?¡±


    ¡°Nathan doesn¡¯t really do parties,¡± Greg shrugged.


    Picot beamed at the suggestion. He had to be quite certain that he could win the prince over. Which suggested he didn¡¯t know about Annabelle, or that Greg and George had already met.


    He better write a telegram to Nathan, and then find Lane, let her know what was going on.


    And someone should let David know. No, wait, he¡¯d probably be fast asleep by now. Was there any point in waking him up? It would hardly help morale if word spread right before the attack.


    ¡°I would wait,¡± Lane suggested. ¡°At least until there are symptoms, for either your family or the dukes. It might well be morning by then. Also, we have to make sure that we can do it without Picot finding out.¡±


    ***


    The sun was rising by the time Nathan arrived with Prince George. Picot was quite unhappy about the delay, but seemed to have bought Greg¡¯s deflection that a boy needed sleep and would be hard to rouse in the middle of the night.


    The Marquess didn¡¯t need to know that Nathan had gone to Windish first, to pick up Annabelle and alert Desmarais¡¯s oldest daughter to what was happening. And apparently, Morgulon had decided to come, too.


    Greg barely glanced at them. Imani was sick.


    Only, sick didn''t quite cover it: She¡¯d been retching up bile and blood for the past hour, and so were most of the nobles present. Amongst them were Charlotte and her mother, which had quietened the rumours that they had been behind the assassination attempt.


    Greg and Thoko, Andrew and Bram were sitting around her bed on uncomfortable stools. Bram pushed himself out of his seat when he saw Nathan coming up with the prince.


    ¡°Must¡¯ve been a killer party,¡± Nathan said when he reached them. Behind him, the prince was staring around the gallery, wide-eyed and pale.


    Greg wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted to hug or hurt his brother for making that tasteless joke in front of Imani and the boy. Andrew had no such problems.


    ¡°Been thinking about that line all night, haven¡¯t you?¡± he asked back, without looking up. He was holding a bucket for Imani. She was barely strong enough to hold her head over the openig, even as one of the apprentice healers fussed over her.


    The kid, probably a couple of years younger than Greg, was struggling already, but when the two elders looked over his shoulder, he sighed and a soft light flared between his hands, quickly dimming. When he pulled them back, Imani¡¯s eyes closed, but she seemed to be breathing easier.


    Not that it would last long. The apprentice couldn¡¯t purge the poison from her body. No healer could. It would just keep circulating, until it turned her liver to mush, as one doctor had so beautifully phrased it. Unless the healers kept pouring magic into fixing the damage until the body expelled it on its own.


    It wasn¡¯t called death cap for nothing. People didn¡¯t survive eating them. Not without a lot of magic. And even Bishop Larssen was already looking drained.


    Doctors couldn¡¯t help at all.


    Prince George had dug his fingers into his mother''s fur and held on as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. Annabelle threw her head around.


    This place stinks, she commented. But the healers are doing a decent job. Not much corruption in the air yet. Let¡¯s get this over with.


    Greg reluctantly ran a hand over Imani¡¯s shoulder and got up. Nathan took his place at her side at once. Morgulon settled down at his feet.


    ***


    Picot stood in the centre of the room, with Lane at his side. Greg and she had traded off watching the man sometime after midnight, once Lane had eaten something. Greg had wanted to be with Imani.


    ¡°My Prince: Lady deLande and Lord Picot of the council.¡±


    Greg felt for the boy, who straightened his back and let go of his mother, though his voice trembled a little when he greeted them formally. Then he added: ¡°I want to see my father.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Picot said. Lane nodded more hesitatingly.


    ¡°This way, Your Highness,¡± the Marquess said. And then he jumped when Annabelle stepped so close to her son her head loomed over his shoulder.


    ¡°My personal werewolf guard,¡± the prince explained. His face briefly lit up. ¡°Her name is Anna. Lord Nathan picked her for me.¡±


    Picot had to visibly catch himself. ¡°Most prudent, my prince, most prudent. If you will follow me.¡±


    Greg brought up the rear as they walked over to the proper palace infirmary. Picot was talking up front, describing the situation and why the prince had been called. He barely touched on the state George Louis was in, though, and Greg didn¡¯t think Young George was listening at all.


    Unlike the Grand Galerie, the infirmary was a small, quiet room. Only a couple of nuns were present, and Greg saw a single, older physician resting on a stool in a corner. Two beds were taken, separated by curtains. The palace¡¯s resident healer sat outside the little verstibules they formed. His white robe was dirty and sweaty already. He looked even more tired than the dozing doctor, but he jerked up when he saw the prince.


    For a moment, Greg thought the healer would protest against this visit, but then the old man offered his hand to the child.


    ¡°Some privacy, please?¡± he grumbled at the rest of them.


    Greg nodded and turned to hold the door for Picot and Lane to leave. Annabelle made no move, the prince once again holding onto her.


    Picot didn¡¯t miss it. ¡°The prince seems¡ªawfully familiar with that werewolf,¡± he said once Greg closed the door behind himself.


    ¡°I believe they knew each other before,¡± Lane replied smoothly. ¡°David left a note about it. A loyal servant even before she was bitten.¡±


    ¡°An excellent choice then,¡± Picot said, but Greg saw him frown.


    They milled about the hallway in silence. Greg expected the prince to take his time, but after just a few minutes, the boy emerged, crying hard. Inside, someone was retching.


    ¡°We will find whoever is responsible for this,¡± Picot said quickly. Lane kept, thankfully, quiet.


    Greg offered his hand to George and was surprised with a full-body hug.


    George Louis was too weak to talk, Annabelle explained.


    ¡°Can the werewolves help?¡± George asked. ¡°Save him?¡±


    ¡°I will ask,¡± Greg promised.

 Chapter 166

    ¡°Lord Feleke, are you awake?¡±


    Alvin shook his shoulder to wake him. The sun wasn¡¯t up yet when David opened his eyes. The tent was dark.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on,¡± David yawned. The cannons thundered in the distance, but he heard nobody move nearby, no voices talking as he would have expected at the reveille.


    ¡°General Clermont said to get you,¡± Alvin said. ¡°There¡¯s news from the palace.¡±


    What news could there possibly be at this hour? But Clermont wouldn¡¯t wake him if it wasn¡¯t important, would he? Not today?


    David yawned again and sat up, rubbing the scruff on his chin, wondering if he should get presentable first or hurry.


    ¡°He wants you quick,¡± Alvin said, as if reading the question from his mind.


    ¡°Of course he does.¡± David sighed and sat up. The tent was cold as he got dressed, especially compared to his camp bed. It was dark, too, except for a little lamp Alvin lit for him on the folding table. The uniform was far more fiddly than his usual clothes, too.


    Still, David was the first to enter the command tent, where Clermont was waiting, pacing up and down. It took a good ten minutes for the rest of the officers to trickle in, and the general wasn¡¯t saying what this was about until they all got there.


    ¡°Alvin, wasn¡¯t it?¡± he said instead. ¡°Take to your other body and make sure nobody who I didn¡¯t call for listens in.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sir,¡± Alvin said, but promptly looked to David for confirmation. When David nodded, the boy started taking off his clothes.


    Having a  werewolf on guard outside should certainly discourage eavesdroppers, though David wondered if Clermont was aware that being wolf would make it easier for Alvin himself to hear what was said. Or did the general trust him that much?


    Alvin had been prowling outside long enough to circle the command tent multiple times when de Burg finally showed up, complaining: ¡°What¡¯s the rush, uncle? Are we attacking early?¡±


    ¡°The food at the party your wife sponsored last night was poisoned,¡± Clermond replied. ¡°Death cap and possibly other dangerous mushrooms were added to several dishes. Dukes Stuard and Desmarais appear to have been the primary targets. The healers have little hope for them. Nor for your wife and daughter,¡± Clermont looked at the Marques of Southshire before turning to David, ¡°or your mother, Lord Feleke. I further note that Marques Picot is demanding of me to call off the attack, while Countess deLande also sent a message on the matter, urging me to leave the matter in her hands and proceed as planned.¡±


    The old general rolled his command baton between his hands, giving his audience time to digest the news. But when de Burg opened his mouth, Clermont cut him off.


    ¡°There is nothing we can do for those afflicted. They¡¯re in Mithras¡¯s hands now. I will not call off the attack. We cannot afford to let the Valoise land. Countess deLande appears to be checking Picot. We¡¯ll have to trust in her ability to prevent more ill from happening. Do not tell your men, not even your most trusted. Lord Feleke, I trust you can ensure our guard¡¯s confidentiality.


    ¡°We will take Port Neaf today. Tomorrow, we may ride for Deva. Until then, let the fury over this dastardly act of cowardice heat your blood and fuel your strength.¡±


    ¡°Uncle¡ª¡±


    ¡°There is nothing we can do,¡± Clermont repeated. ¡°However. The Lord who takes the harbour today might just win a crown, too.¡±


    The general pointedly looked at David.


    As if the crown mattered while his mother¡­ How long did it take for death cap poison to kill? When had Lane sent that message? Was Imani even still alive?


    ¡°I don¡¯t want the crown,¡± David said softly, since everybody else turned to look at him, too. ¡°Never did. And I don¡¯t think we should discuss that issue while both dukes still live, either.¡±


    ¡°But¡ªit¡¯s deathcap,¡± the younger Lord Pettau said quietly. ¡°And we don¡¯t have enough healers, do we?¡±


    David turned to the young man, who quickly raised his hands, as if he could hide behind them. ¡°It¡¯s just¡ªmy father said that¡¯s why Lord Rover passed away. Because there weren¡¯t enough healers¡ªenough magic¡ªto keep healing him until the poison left the body.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± David took a deep breath of hope.


    ¡°What?¡± de Burg snapped. ¡°What did you think of?¡±


    ¡°Werewolves are inherently magical,¡± David said. ¡°That¡¯s how they can fight the Rot.¡±


    ¡°You could have mentioned that when Rover died.¡±


    David blinked tiredly at deVale¡¯s snippy comment. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware of the issue. And the scientists have been writing whole books on the matter.¡±


    He took another deep breath. Surely, Greg would figure this out? Grab Morgulon, and¡ªsave Imani, if nobody else. Either of the dukes.


    He really didn¡¯t want the crown.


    Tomorrow. As Clermont had said, right now, there was nothing they could do. Asides from going to battle.


    ***


    The werewolf battalion lost its first couple of soldiers before the battle even started. The surgeons asked to have a settled werewolf in the tent, so the injured might be bitten swiftly, and the healers asked for another werewolf to keep them safe from the Rot. Grudgingly, David sent Fleur to the healers and Lorenz, just five months old and sixteen years as a human, to the surgeons.


    He had time to introduce them in person: The werewolves were one of the last battalions marching out of the camp. The regular troops were already engaging the enemy by the time they crossed the no-man¡¯s-land between the camp and the city. A bright flame lit the morning fog as they closed in. Something was already burning; gun smoke and other noxious fumes filled the air.


    As most cities in the heartlands, Port Neaf had once had sprawling outer districts, outgrowing their unyielding¡ªand these days unnecessary¡ªfortifications against the Rot. Those houses had been reduced to rubble by cannon fire, so much so they barely even offered cover to the Loegrian soldiers. Still, the attackers had taken the first wall¡ªdigging underneath it and planting charges. In gruelling house to house combat, they had made their way through the old town.


    Yet the city didn¡¯t surrender, which was in part because the defectors knew that all they had to do was hang on until the Valoisian fleet reached them. But they also trusted in the geography of their position: The castle, high up on the cliff, still stood strong, shielded from the cannon fires by the city surrounding it. The harbour sat right underneath the castle, at the foot of the bluff.


    Because of this harbour and the Valoisian sea superiority, Loegrion couldn¡¯t cut off the defector¡¯s supplies. They didn¡¯t run out of food, or shot, or blackpowder.


    To get from top to bottom, one had to follow the road down into the valley cut into the bedrock by the river Neaf and around the stony shore. At the narrowest point, where the road swung around into the bay that protected the harbour, sat the harbour garrison, the stronghold they absolutely had to take today.


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    To make the job harder, there was a second, mediaeval wall connecting the castle and the garrison, all of it shielded by a half mile of destroyed city. Stone buildings, as Rust had pointed out, which left mountains of rubble.


    According to Clermont¡¯s briefing, this wall, too, had been treated with alchemy against the Rot, back when even this part of the heartlands had been struck regularly.


    Which was why David and the werewolf battalion weren¡¯t leading the attack. General Clermont wanted to see if his regular troops could force a breach before he risked permanent injury to one of the werewolves to take that wall.


    Until then, they waited at the remains of the outer wall, where Clermont had his command post atop a tower that had survived. David allowed himself to relax in the saddle.


    The weight of the sabre and sheath pulled at his hip. It wasn¡¯t that heavy¡ªjust unfamiliar. His usual swords were lighter. It reminded him somewhat of the equestrian games he¡¯d participated in as a youth¡ªfighting with lances and old-fashioned broadswords, even shields¡­


    ¡°I always thought the wait before a battle was the worst,¡± Rust interrupted his thoughts.


    The elder werewolf was craning his neck, trying to see what was going on behind the ruins of the city, where the gun smoke hung heavy in the air.


    David straightened up a little, remembering that his soldiers were watching him. He probably shouldn¡¯t slouch. His shrug made the crossbow on his back bounce. It was pre-loaded with steel today, though he had a half dozen silver bolts, too.


    ¡°Waiting is part of hunting,¡± he answered the implicit question. ¡°Any hunting, but especially for werewolf hunting. Who else has to wait for the full moon to come up?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Rust said softly.


    Hooves on the cobblestones cut the conversation short. ¡°Charges planted! Charges planted!¡± the rider screamed.


    ¡°That¡¯s our signal,¡± David said, and indeed, a trumpeter was blowing the signal up on the tower.


    Asides from that signal, the werewolves marched out in silence. They needed no drummers or marching songs to keep them in step. The will of the veteran leading them was enough.


    It did make David feel rather useless¡ªnot that he would have been good at giving orders.


    The werewolves stepped forwards in orderly columns, past him. He couldn¡¯t ride in front of them, or he¡¯d have a bullet in his head before they even got past the wall. No, he¡¯d ride at the very back of the battalion, like a coward. Ragna was the one who carried the flag for them to rally around. When the battle started, she¡¯d be right in the front, right in the thick of it.


    Staying back did allow him to appreciate the orderly way his troops filed into the destroyed city of Port Neaf. There were few dead bodies in sight¡ªdid those get moved away, or did the Rot claim them?


    Maybe it was just that there hadn¡¯t been any fighting here for a few days.


    De Burg raised his hand in a salute when the werewolves moved past his troops, held back in reserve.


    David answered the gesture.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Alvin asked, when a light flashed in the distance.


    Rust spit onto the ground. ¡°Magic,¡± he growled. ¡°Lots of it.¡±


    ¡°What kind?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t tell, Sir. Can¡¯t tell which side used it, either.¡±


    David opened his mouth to protest that point, then stopped and chuckled to himself. Why shouldn¡¯t it have been their spell? It wasn¡¯t like they didn¡¯t have any sorcerers of their own.


    He rubbed his fingers. Maybe, if they had had another year or two, he would¡¯ve been able to rain down fire on the enemy.


    Time they didn¡¯t have.


    The sound of gunfire grew louder with every step the men and women took. The screaming did, too, and David spotted the first fresh bodies. The defenders must have tried to sally¡ªor had it been hit and run tactics?


    Not all the bodies lying asides the street were dead, David realised as they got closer. Both sides simply left their wounded behind. Broken men, clutching at what was left of their arms and legs or passed out¡ªmoaning and crying for help.


    ¡°Rust, pick a settled werewolf you can spare, have them check on the wounded and bite the ones wearing the red band,¡± David said quietly.


    Maybe they could save a life or two.


    ¡°Yes, Sir,¡± Rust replied. ¡°What about the traitors?¡±


    ¡°Bite them all¡ªsomewhere where it won¡¯t stand out.¡±


    David didn¡¯t look after the werewolf who slunk off to see to the wounded. He tried not to look at them at all. Whoever was in charge of the defenders wouldn¡¯t hesitate, either.


    ¡°Someone has to do what¡¯s necessary,¡± he whispered to himself under his breath, hoping that this time, it wasn¡¯t a lie. He couldn¡¯t see a better way than to fight. But he had never seen a better way to deal with the werewolves, either.


    Alvin gagged at the sight of a soldier whose face had been taken off by a bullet, who was still, somehow, moving and crying for help.


    It made David want to reach out, to hug him, comfort him. The boy shouldn¡¯t have to see this kind of horror. No child should. No child should have to fight.


    David tried to take resolve from that thought. Maybe, if they did their job today, no other children would have to witness such pain.


    ***


    The battalion marched up the hill. When they crested it, they got their first glance at the fighting: There was the inner wall, looming over the remnants of the buildings in front of it. The Loegrian troops were hiding behind the broken walls and inside the half-crumpled buildings.


    ¡°Finally!¡± deVale greeted them, waving at David to take cover with him.


    David passed the reins onto Alvin, ordering him to take the horses into a mostly intact building. Crouched low, he hurried forwards to where deVale was hunkered down. Through the window of a single remaining wall, David got a decent view of the situation:


    Something had blown a hole into the inner wall of Port Neaf. It must have been wide enough for a couple of men to stand in, with jagged edges. Pulverised bricks still hung like a cloud in the air, making David wish for something to cover his mouth and nose with. He could barely see shadows of the defenders who were racing to fix the breach in their defences.


    Yet the Loegrian soldiers weren¡¯t making good on their opportunity. Quite the contrary, they had retreated away from the hole. Hunkering down behind whatever cover they found. A red-robed priest was raining fire down on them from atop the wall with wanton abandon.


    Even from a distance, David felt the heat.


    With every blast of fire, the priest¡¯s face seemed to become more waxy, more gaunt. How long could a man keep this barrage up?


    Burned and charred bodies littered the ground.


    As David watched, a Loegrian soldier leaned out from behind the half-destroyed wall he was hiding behind to take aim, but the next blast of fire forced him back.


    ¡°Lord Feleke! Will you kindly order your monsters to do something!¡±


    That was deVale.


    ¡°Why?¡± Rust growled behind them. ¡°He¡¯s killing himself keeping this up. We just got to wait.¡±


    But while the elder was still speaking, a second red robe climbed the wall. The first priest toppled backwards¡ªdead or unconscious, David couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°They¡¯ll close the breach!¡± deVale howled, as another of the human soldiers was doused in what looked like liquid flame just as he raised his musket.


    David flinched, he couldn¡¯t help it. Fire engulfed the man, and his musket misfired. Then the rest of his blackpowder supply went off.


    Even worse than the screams of the dying soldier was the way everyone was staring at David: The regular soldiers as if they expected him to fix this, and the werewolves pleading wordlessly not to send them into the inferno the priest was unleashing at anything that moved in his range.


    ¡°Oh, for¡­¡± David cursed and swung the crossbow off his back, keeping low.


    He reckoned the distance was some seventy yards; not an easy shot for sure. Doubly so with a weapon as inaccurate as a musket.


    But his target wasn¡¯t moving much, except to wave his arms.


    He glanced around the wall, fixing the target in his mind. Breathe in slowly. Not too deep, not too shallow.


    As he exhaled, he pushed himself up, swinging the crossbow around, jamming the stock firmly against his shoulder and aiming in the same movement. The priest turned at once, raising his arms.


    David stilled his breath, his lungs half empty. Pulled both triggers and ducked down again, not waiting to see if he had hit anything. A glob of fire exploded above his head, where his face had been a moment ago. Some of it dropped down. David hissed in pain as the priest started screaming.


    The soldiers cheered. Rust hit his back so hard David almost toppled over, knocking the wind out of him.


    ¡°Get in there,¡± David gasped, reaching for his lever to re-cock the double crossbow.


    He needn¡¯t have wasted his breath at the order. Before he had finished speaking, Rust¡¯s eyes glowed blue, and the werewolves charged towards the breach, muskets ready. DeVale yelled his own orders, ensuring that they had covering fire as they did.


    A dozen werewolves in three ranks fired their muskets into the gap in the wall, forcing the defenders back. They quickly ducked out of the way to reload and another dozen took their places smoothly. Calder in his wolf shape took a run-up. As soon as the second group, too, fired their volley, he raced forwards and jumped over their heads, right into the enemy lines.


    David could only imagine what it would look like from the other side, the giant wolf flying out of the gun smoke, landing ten yards deep into their own ranks. Neville followed hot on his heels, and then Boris joined the ensuing melee, too.

 Chapter 167

    A cry of alarm went up on the other side of the wall, and muskets barked, spitting smoke and lead and sulphur. A howl turned into a scream and cut off abruptly¡ªDavid wished he could see more. DeVale had the same idea: he was ordering his men to set up their ladders again and scale the old wall, to take it from the defenders.


    David pressed his lips together. He really, really wanted to grab a ladder and be in that first rush. But Rust and even Ragna with the flag were staying behind, too, as was deVale, who was yelling at his men to move faster from the safety of his cover. David couldn¡¯t bring himself to shout at the werewolves. They already did everything they could¡ªand it wasn¡¯t like they could resist Rust¡¯s orders, anyway.


    Bernadette squirrelled up a ladder, surprisingly quick for someone her age. Three bayonets stabbed her as she reached the top, almost at the same time, but she threw herself over the parapet. David inhaled sharply and was relieved when she came up again. The traitors on the other hand screamed when they suddenly found themselves face to face with an angry she-wolf the size of a small horse.


    Two more settled ones backed up the elder werewolf. The human soldiers barely hesitated to make good of their chance, forming a musket line up on the cleared bit of wall. The first volley went off, and rather than reloading in their exposed position, the men passed their muskets down to receive loaded ones from their comrades. Within seconds, they fired again.


    It didn¡¯t look like they were facing much resistance, so David picked the closest ladders to scurry upwards and get a better overview.


    Boris, Calder, and Neville were fighting back to back on the alley beyond the wall, a whirlwind of claws and cursed teeth. Blood caked Calder¡¯s fur together, but David thought the wound underneath was already closed¡ªthe elder must have transformed in the middle of the fight.


    David swung the crossbow off his back, to give them what support he could. Given their lack of riflemen, he was the closest thing Loegrion had to a sharpshooter. While to his right and left, the muskets barked, he kept a lookout for more red robes amongst the defenders that were pushing in from all directions to try and close the breach.


    Out of the houses they came, from the castle on top of the cliff, and up the road to the harbour garrison. Civilians, many of them. Mostly men, but some women, too.


    A whole city, fighting against them to allow the Valoisian fleet to land.


    The next sorcerer wasn¡¯t even a priest. Just an unassuming figure wearing a fine doublet. His wide, flailing movements caught David¡¯s attention. Sparks flew, but the magician didn¡¯t have any more of a clear shot than David did in the rush of people.


    Or maybe he didn¡¯t need one. A torrent of flame rained down from the heavens on David. He didn¡¯t even have time to scream¡ªbut the sheath at his side did. It was a sound like a metal fork being run over an earthenware platter and he almost threw himself off the wall before he realised what it was.


    The stream of fire diverted around him, grounding itself right in the silver.


    The defenders around the sorcerer ducked their heads low in surprise, giving David the opening he had been waiting for. Ignoring the flames screaming around him, he pulled up the crossbow and shot the bastard through the neck.


    He was glad, so very glad that his first bolt struck home. The stream of fire cut off at once. Instead, he smelled a terribly familiar stench. The sorcerer¡¯s body never even hit the ground¡ªthe Rot-creature rose before he had fully collapsed.


    The werewolves retreated right away; they were the only ones who could. Leaden stillness dragged David¡¯s arms down, even with Bernadette no ten yards away. Muskets cluttered to the ground; David was half-way aware that he had dropped his crossbow, too.


    Below him, Ragna and Rust¡ªdid nothing. The battalion of werewolves just stood there, most of them behind the wall. The Rot-creature grew taller and taller. David could barely look at the distorted figure, his eyes watering when he tried. And he was far better off than the defectors, who were collapsing in place.


    The Rot-monster made no attempt to cross the wall or attack the werewolves. Instead, it turned towards the castle up on the crest of the cliff, going right through the buildings in its way. Probably to avoid the sea¡¯s sanctification of the lower ground.


    As soon as its back was turned, the werewolves attacked, not giving the humans a chance to gather their wits. David was just shaking himself out of his stupor when his troops were already flooding through the breach as fast as the narrow gap allowed, forming tight lines with the wall in their back.


    By the time a barrage of magic and cannon fire stopped the Rot-creature¡¯s advance, the first rank of werewolf soldiers had finished reloading. They rose up, and fired into the confused gaggle of defenders, just struggling to get back to their feet.


    Rust¡¯s eyes glowed bright as the bullets hit home at nearly point blank range. The blood went everywhere. The screaming echoed in David¡¯s ears.


    As the first rank kneeled to reload, the second rank fired, and then the third. Just as they had practised at Fort Brunich. By the time the first row rose again, the defenders were flying¡ªif they still could move¡ªfor the houses of the historic centre behind them.


    The werewolves shot them in the back without hesitation.


    Finally, David found his feet enough to get down from the wall.


    ¡°Sir? Are you all right, Sir?¡± Alvin yelled over the din of the battle raging, bringing up the horses.


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    David glanced down at his side, pulling the sabre a few inches out of its sheath. The blade seemed fine, but the sheath had suffered visibly. Some of the silver had flaked off, tarnished, the power spent.


    Not fully exhausted, luckily.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he yelled back.


    ¡°That¡¯s one hell of an enchantment!¡± Alvin commented as he held the gelding for David to get into the saddle.


    David nodded. He waited for Alvin to mount up himself, then rode ahead and through the breach in the inner wall.


    The houses of the mediaeval city centre were still intact, each one likely packed full of guns and defenders. The streets were narrow, and often blocked, forming a deadly maze. Behind every curtain, a real sharpshooter might be waiting. A meat grinder, basically, designed to make each yard as costly for an attacker as possible.


    Which was why General Clermont had drafted so many werewolves in the first place.


    ¡°Ready?¡± David asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re ready, Sir,¡± Rust confirmed.


    David took a deep breath and nodded. ¡°All right. Show them why werewolves are feared around the country.¡±


    They were forming squads already, each one led by a settled werewolf. Bayonets fixed, and pistols ready. No swords.


    Time to tear down the doors and break through some walls. They couldn¡¯t take the harbour garrison with an army in their back.


    David couldn¡¯t follow them. He just sat on his horse, behind a line of deVale¡¯s human soldiers, feeling stupid and useless, watching the werewolves walk into the traps prepared for human soldiers, driven by the will of the two elders at his side. Ragna¡¯s teeth were bared as the sound of gunfire and screams echoed out of a valley, and even in her human body, she growled, deep and low in her throat.


    The screams turned to a howl, followed by more screaming and the breaking of wood. David had never been close enough, when a mad werewolf sacked a village or small town, to watch, and he didn¡¯t exactly appreciate his front-row seat right now. He didn¡¯t look away, though. At least nominally, these men and women were under his command. The least he owed them was his attention.


    Deep thunder, like some kind explosion, echoed through the sudden quiet, and this time, no howl, no snarl or bark followed. Only a soft curse from Rust.


    ¡°I take it that wasn¡¯t good,¡± deVale commented from the side.


    ¡°Most likely fire, Sir,¡± Rust replied. ¡°Probably some kind of incendiary bomb.¡±


    He didn¡¯t say anything more, but it still sent goosebumps down David¡¯s back. Probably just a case of the defenders using everything they had, right? There was no way they were prepared for the werewolves, was there?


    ¡°I suggest we move back behind the wall, Lord Feleke,¡± deVale said. ¡°We are rather exposed here.¡±


    David frowned. ¡°How will we see what¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to trust your lieutenants.¡±


    David didn¡¯t like that. He climbed the wall instead, staying low behind the parapet, his crossbow at the ready. DeVale followed him, ordering his men to come with them, spread out as far as they could without getting into the range of the cannons from the castle to the north or the garrison to the south, ready to give support to the werewolves should they be forced out of the alleys.


    DeVale was sending messages back to General Clermont, which culminated in the soldiers having to abandon several parts of the Old Wall and David having to move. Clermont¡¯s miners planted charges right at the base, to widen the existing breach and create new ones.


    David hoped that they wouldn¡¯t need them to escape¡ªor to attack again at a later time¡ªbut he could appreciate Clermont¡¯s caution.


    The heat was rising as he waited, watching the werewolves go house to house. He hated that deVale got to watch with him, and so many soldiers.


    ¡°So that¡¯s what we¡¯re entrusting our lives to,¡± the Count commented when Calder came smashing right through a wall of one of the half-timbered, historic buildings. ¡°And you fight that?¡±


    Calder shook himself out, blood dripping off his muzzle as he was spitting out broken teeth and turning human in the same motion. For a second, he was a furless, terribly contorted creature, with two obvious bullet wounds in his flank, then a naked human man. Less than a minute later, the wolf was back.


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason most hunts happen on full moon,¡± David said. ¡°And silver evens the playing field. Get enough of it into them, and they can¡¯t transform to heal up.¡±


    Not that it would take more than one bolt for most of his troops, young as they were. Hells, half of them couldn¡¯t even turn at will.


    He wished he could help them, that he could bear the fighting with them. But he was supposed to be their officer. The man with the plan, not the man at the frontline. His wounds wouldn¡¯t heal within a single transformation.


    Boris dragged one of the unsettled youngsters out of one of the many side streets by the scruffy fur in their neck, into the open where Ragna could see. The unsettled she-wolf was bleeding all over: something had cut open her whole flank, from neck to tail. Not a shallow cut, either¡ªher ribs shone through in places. She was throwing her head, fighting against Boris, or maybe just mad with pain.


    Ragna¡¯s eyes glowed bright, and the motion took on a new quality, less frantic now, more strained. Slowly, the injured giant wolf turned into a woman, healthy and hale, if stark naked, crouched on the ground.


    While David still waited for her to turn back into her wolf-shape, another unsettled wolf in a similar state was dragged over, and then they came in from all sides. David could taste the magic in the air as Ragna and Rust tried to help them transform.


    It didn¡¯t work on all of them.


    At first, David thought it was the number of unsettled werewolves who needed help, but no¡ªthe defenders had at least some silver. It might just be some weaponized family heirlooms. Or maybe they had a bigger problem.


    David took a deep breath, then climbed down to Rust. He hated himself a little for the order, but there was really only one thing to do in this situation. ¡°Make sure the unsettled ones take point,¡± he told the elder. ¡°Don¡¯t risk the settled ones if you can help it.¡±


    Rust grunted, but didn¡¯t argue, even though the settled ones generally had a better chance of surviving a heavy injury. Nobody needed to drag them back, after all.


    David pressed his lips together, watching grimly as the number of silver and fire injured werewolves grew. He couldn¡¯t send back the unsettled ones without an escort for security, but was there any point in sending at least his older werewolves back? Would the army surgeons even treat them? At least take out the silver?


    When it was Bernadette limping back, jowling like a kitten, one side of her body burned head to tail, the other cut open, David made up his mind. He shouldn¡¯t have favourites, not as an officer. But she was Greg¡¯s pack. So he ordered: ¡°Rust, have four of the younger settled ones take back the injured. Settled ones only.¡±


    He didn¡¯t order them to prioritise the elders, but Bernadette was still the first to get dragged back on a makeshift stretcher¡ªshe was back in her human form, so maybe it was just because she was easier to carry.

 Chapter 168

    At dusk, the werewolves gathered for the final attack. They were down to just around five hundred men and women still able to fight, but the defenders had suffered worse¡ªnot just in manpower, but morale, too. The last of them were surrendering just now, having apparently been turned away when they had tried to seek refuge at the harbour garrison.


    And still, the garrison kept resisting. The Castle did, too, but the Castle was depending on the harbour for supplies. So David was happy to let them starve behind their walls all the way until next spring, if necessary.


    He watched his troops line up. Rust and Ragna were riding up and down in front of the formation. Alvin fidgeted with the reins nervously , making his horse prance, too. When he noticed David¡¯s gaze, he managed a forced smile.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see your mother tomorrow, Sir,¡± he said.


    It was his first acknowledgement of the news Clermont had broken in the morning. Ages ago, it seemed.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope so,¡± David said. He couldn¡¯t think of Imani right now, of some scumbag at the palace poisoning food, or he¡¯d go madder than a werewolf on full moon.


    Just take the garrison. Secure the harbour. Force the Valoise to land their troops at some wide-open beach. And then leave the rest of the war to Clermont.


    David rubbed his neck. He was tired from all the time spent doing nothing. And he was glad. Glad that it was about to be over.


    He stared down the road cut into the ground, curving towards the garrison. The cannons were staring back at the assembling werewolves, just waiting for them to come into range, and sometimes a helmet glittered in the last light of day. Out of sight, hidden by the bend, was the gate of the garrison, blocking the road into the harbour. They needed to break through that.


    Luckily, they had black powder for that job. David didn¡¯t doubt that the elders could do it, too, given enough time. But explosives would do it faster.


    They just needed to get past the cannons to place them.


    He stood back again, riding a few yards behind the final line when Rust moved the formation: ten werewolves next to each other, filling the street from side to side, row after row of them, spaced out so that a cannon wouldn¡¯t take out multiple ranks at once. They still carried the muskets, which David thought was fairly pointless, given that they were about to assault a building. But Rust was the veteran and David hadn¡¯t wanted to question him.


    It wasn¡¯t like the werewolves could carry the explosives and light the fuses in their wolf-shape, so maybe it made sense to hand each of them a musket to hold onto.


    Ragna walked in the first rank. She had handed her horse to a helper, so she was on foot, the epaulettes on her uniform bouncing with each step as she carried the flag. David envied the energy. The bravery, too. Could he do that? Step in front of the cannons that started roaring as soon as the werewolves got close?


    Not that they were very effective. The garrison hadn¡¯t been built to defend the harbour from land. The angle of the road towards the gate was too steep, and made even more awkward by the fact the cannons were mounted up on the walls. It took much of the efficiency out of the batteries. Which didn¡¯t stop the artillerists from trying.


    The first cannonballs missed Ragna and the flag just barely, taking out the men jogging left and right of her before grounding themself into the cobblestones. But Rust needn''t even have spread out the lines: with the steep angle, there was no way the cannons could hit more than one rank at a time.


    Ragna yelled something at the soldiers behind her, her voice getting lost in the fury of the cannons. David couldn¡¯t tell if the werewolves heard her, but they jogged onwards, line after line stepping over the gouges in the street.


    Then the next volley was ready.


    It wouldn¡¯t be enough. It couldn¡¯t be enough. The bloodshed, at this point, was entirely pointless. Nothing would stop the fall of the garrison and the harbour now.


    So why did the defenders keep fighting? Because they hated the werewolves so much?


    David¡¯s and Alvin¡¯s horses were the last ones to cross the line of cannonballs gouged into the ground. Down at the bend of the road, where the cliff and the garrison seamlessly joined up, the first rank had reached the gate. Musket and pistol fired spluttered, and wolves howled in pain¡ª


    And then they broke ranks, jumping away from the gate. The explosion shook the ground, drowning out the gunfire. David¡¯s gelding reared.


    By the time David had reigned him in, driving the horse forwards to catch up with his troops, a second explosion echoed out from the garrison''s entry.


    That meant they had broken through to the harbour, right?


    ¡°Charge!¡± David yelled. ¡°Werewolves, charge!¡±


    He was still slightly surprised that they obeyed, that they charged into the darkness of the tunnel the garrison formed over the path just because he said so. Defenders tried to stab and shoot the werewolves streaming through. A blade from above missed David¡¯s ear by inches. Behind him, Alvin yelped, but there was no time to look. Then they were through, werewolves flooding into the harbour.


    Staring in horror at the warship lying in the middle of the bay, a first-rate ship-of-the-line that was just opening the shutters of its three gundecks. Rows and rows of cannons stared back at the werewolves. Smaller boats packed full of soldiers rowed like mad for the outermost piers, staying out of the line of fire.


    David whirled around only to see the turncoats stream out of side doors, carrying wood and sacks full of sand, furniture and stones. He had to duck in the saddle and retreat deeper into the harbour when bullets came whistling out of the dark. At the same moment, the warship opened fire.


    David instinctively raised his hands in front of his face¡ªpointless as the gesture was against twenty-four pounds of iron screaming through the air. He and Alvin were close enough to the entrance of the harbour not to be in the direct line of fire, but the shrapnel of destroyed wooden buildings and berths enveloped everything. His gelding bucked under him and reared with a scream, then went down. David rolled away from the fallen horse, but couldn¡¯t see what had hit him because of all the werewolves running in panic towards the garrison.


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    David cursed and grabbed Calder, slapping him across the face.


    ¡°Get a grip!¡± he screamed at the elder. His voice sounded wrong in his own ears, so he took a deep breath, forcing himself to pitch it lower, to make himself heard without sounding like he was out of his mind with fear. ¡°Werewolves! Rally to the flag!¡±


    The warship had given them a full broadside, so they had a minute or two until the crews finished reloading.


    But where was the flag? Ragna had carried it, and if she was down¡­


    No, there it was, just barely visible in the smoke and dust. It listed to the side, but it was there.


    He started moving in that direction, even if it led him further into danger, dragging Calder along, Alvin following hard on his heels, his own horse abandoned.


    ¡°Rally to the flag!¡± David hollered again. Alvin picked up the call, and to David¡¯s relief, at least the youngest werewolves, the newly bitten disabled veterans, were streaming to where Rust stood, just handing the flag back to Ragna. She was stark naked. Lenny was there, too, and Boris. Calder finally stopped struggling. A shiver went through the werewolves as Rust reasserted control. They began forming a single line, more spaced out than they usually would stand, picking up their guns and wrapping themselves in uniform parts.


    ¡°Your orders, Major?¡± Rust asked.


    If he was scared, he didn¡¯t show it. The elder looked at David as if he expected an actual answer, as if David knew any better how to get out of here¡ª


    He stared at the water. A second tallship was entering the harbour, and he thought there were more sails out there. Behind his back, the sheer cliff rose two hundred feet above the ocean.


    There was really only one direction to go.


    ¡°Back the way we came,¡± he ordered. ¡°And if anyone has any useful magic tricks left, now would be the time. Otherwise, chew your way through whatever barrier the defenders put up.¡±


    As soon as he finished, the warship fired the second broadside. Bodies went flying everywhere, some twisting and turning wolf in the air. Others just crumpled, too injured to change shape. Ragna landed on all fours right in front of David, shielding him from worse. Alvin ducked forwards and grabbed the flag she had dropped, raising it high, waving it like a challenge and screaming at the ship.


    ¡°Two minutes to reload,¡± David growled at himself. And louder: ¡°Move, Alvin! Back to the garrison!¡±


    He tried to count the seconds in his head, but lost the rhythm after less than ten, stumbling with the rest of them, injured and hale, human and wolf, dressed and naked. The first boat of navy-infantry was just reaching a pier.


    David ignored them. There were far too few of them to pressure the werewolves. They had to get out of here before the number of yellow jackets swelled.


    Within just a few minutes, the garrison¡¯s entry had been blocked nearly completely with stones and furniture. Hammers rang on wood as the defenders tried to finish the job. David was half tempted to dig with his bare hands, but the werewolves were far more effective. Wood went flying everywhere. David ducked back to avoid getting hit. Alvin stayed at his side, the flag still raised high.


    The defenders tried to stab the werewolves through the barrier, to slow them¡ªDavid thought he even saw a silver candelabra being pushed through, uselessly battering the werewolves who weren¡¯t going to slow down while the cannons might still reach them. The warship was being turned to get them back into range.


    A pistol went off, right behind the barricade. David thought he could feel the bullet go by.


    But it was Alvin who screamed, his uniform torn and blood welling up. He was thrown backwards, letting go of the flagpole, reaching for his chest. His face was working and for a second, David thought he would transform. But he didn¡¯t.


    David grabbed him by the arms, pulling him away from the opening. ¡°Hold on,¡± David whispered. ¡°Come on, turn!¡±


    But Alvin¡¯s eyes were wide and terrified as he stared at David. The muscles at his neck bulged, but no change came over him.


    ¡°No,¡± David whispered, at the same time as Alvin managed: ¡°It¡¯s cold. So cold.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David repeated. He felt the boy crumble in his grip, and guided him down to the ground, pressing his hand onto the wound, right in the middle of Alvin¡¯s chest. The cut in David¡¯s palm burned as his blood mixed with Alvin¡¯s, but he ignored that. He focused on the magic, on what Pierre had told him¡ªhe didn¡¯t actually know how to heal, but he still reached out, trying to push what little power he possessed at Alvin, willing the bleeding to stop.


    The silver pulled at the magic, pulled it away from the wound, stealing it, preventing a connection. Alvin gripped his wrist. The boy¡¯s lips moved. David bowed his head lower, trying to catch the words over the turmoil all around. All he heard was Alvin¡¯s laboured breathing.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± David begged. ¡°Hold on, Alvin.¡±


    Alvin¡¯s grip tightened, his nails digging into David¡¯s skin, drawing blood. David tried again to push with his magic, but all he got was the sense of cold from the silver.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± the boy whispered. Finally, there was a connection. But it went the wrong way. David felt magic flow up his arm¡ª


    ¡°Thank you for the chance,¡± Alvin rasped, still gripping David¡¯s wrist like a vice. But the pressure was fading fast, and so was the magic. So was Alvin, until all that was left was the silver, twisting his own powers around.


    ¡°No,¡± David whispered. ¡°No, no, no, no, no¡­¡±


    But he knew it was too late.


    ¡°Major,¡± Rust¡¯s voice broke through his concentration.


    Ragna grabbed the flagpole, the flag that had been bathed in blood. David blinked at her as she gently pulled the fabric out from under Alvin¡¯s too still body. Her eyes glowed with an unnatural blue. Lenny kneeled down next to him, closing Alvin¡¯s unseeing eyes.


    ¡°Give me that, girl,¡± he gruffly said, holding a hand out for the flag. ¡°They¡¯ll need you before the end.¡±


    To David¡¯s surprise, Ragna did hand it over. Lenny used the pole to push himself up again. ¡°Tell Dorothy and the boys I love them,¡± he said, both hands closing around the staff. Sparks danced over his hands and the wood, sparks of the same unnatural blue as Ragna¡¯s eyes had glowed a moment ago.


    The oldest soldier of the whole battalion turned towards the garrison, his shoulders squared. Blue flames reached the actual flag, until it burned like a giant torch. The same fire crept up Lenny¡¯s arms, setting his uniform ablaze.


    Two bullets hit him before he had taken more than two steps. He didn¡¯t even flinch.


    ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± David asked nobody in particular as Lenny reached the barrier. The furniture and timber caught the blue fire at once, and burned to ash within moments.


    More bullets hit him, but Lenny didn¡¯t slow down.


    ¡°Burning eight years worth of full moons,¡± Ragna said, her voice rough. ¡°He¡¯s not going to make it to the other end at this rate.¡±


    All that David could see was the blue light of the flame. He unsheathed his sabre. ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t just stand around then.¡±


    He didn¡¯t wait to see what Ragna would do, following Lenny instead. A moment later he was overtaken by the giant she-wolf. Rust turned wolf, too, and then all the rest of them followed.


    David couldn¡¯t help but envy Lenny. He wished he could burn his own pain the same way, with his own life as cinder, if necessary. He walked between the growling wolves as if in a nightmare, the fading blue the only light in the whole world. Smoke and dust filled the air, but he never saw a single defender until he reached the other side.


    He never saw Lenny¡¯s body, either.


    There was chaos on the other side of the tunnel. Free of the walls, the werewolves were passing him easily, running up the street. Back towards the breaches in the Old Wall, most likely. David heard cannon fire still. He lengthened his strides, jogging up the street,


    When he reached the top, there was no sign of deVale¡¯s men who had been supposed to hold the Old City. Instead, he thought he saw the siege camps burning in the distance.


    Rubble crunched behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, David saw something swinging at him, then the world went dark.

 Chapter 169

    Epidemics were rarer in Loegrion than other parts of the Empire. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that Loegrion was constantly fighting the Rot-epidemic and as a result, had eliminated a lot of the things that caused disease on the mainland. Anyone emptying their chamberpot onto a Loegrian street better be ready for the mob to tear down their doors. Gutters here were for rainwater and nothing else. Sewers took a lot of the waste away, and midnight men collected what wasn¡¯t transportable by water, to be burned outside the city. Even small villages always had someone taking the wastes away, to burn them or bury them deep in the ground.


    Thoko loved that about the country, even though the system was far from perfect¡ªcities grew faster above ground than below, sewers got clogged, gutters got blocked, horse excrement collected especially on busy streets. But it was still much better than large parts of the Empire, where poorer streets often had no waste collection at all.


    It was still terrifying to see the army of midnight men descend on the Grande Gallerie now, their faces covered, each carrying a couple of buckets in their hands. Even that wasn¡¯t enough. The sick¡ªwere very sick.


    Thoko had seen the Cholera go through a city before. This was worse, because what the sick were expelling from their bodies on both ends wasn¡¯t just vomit and diarrhoea¡ªthough there was plenty of both. It was blood, too. As if the mushrooms had cut them open from the inside, as if they had eaten razor blades, not poison.


    Nathan was holding Imani¡¯s convulsing body. Andrew was with Charlotte and her mother; Charlotte¡¯s teenage brother had fled. Thoko herself was holding the head of an elderly lady whose relatives hadn¡¯t been able to stomach the flood of blood and excrement. Thoko resented them for leaving alone a woman who was too weak to even lean her head over the edge of the bed on her own.


    Thoko guided her so she wouldn¡¯t soil herself completely, then offered the stranger some of the sweet and salty tea the doctors were cooking up by the barrel. A hand fluttered against her knee in response, the only thanks the old lady managed to give.


    Prince George stood in the middle of all that misery, breathing flatly and through his mouth, fingers of one hand cramped into his mother¡¯s fur. But he didn¡¯t look away until Picot came in to drag him off. Lane tagged along with them, avoiding Thoko¡¯s glare.


    They shouldn¡¯t have dragged the boy into all this.


    A helper placed more tea next to Thoko¡¯s seat. The servant looked just as tired as THoko felt. About half of last night¡¯s party guests were suffering, some more, some less. Even those who weren¡¯t throwing up blood were curling in on themselves with pain.


    ¡°A few more hours,¡± Thoko whispered when her own charge sobbed with another cramp.


    It was scant comfort. The pain might subside in a few hours, but the dying hadn¡¯t even started yet. Which wasn¡¯t to say there had been no deaths: Not every body could take the strain, despite the doctor¡¯s best efforts to replace what the patients kept losing.


    The healers supported them as much as they could, but they couldn¡¯t purge the poison. All they could do was strengthen their patient¡¯s overall constitution, and that was limited especially in the elderly.


    Some of the sick had taken one look at Morgulon, and decided to take their own life before anyone could even ask them if they wanted to try their luck at the coin toss.


    Thoko glanced over to where the she-wolf was stretched out in the middle of the room, guarding the cubs. Officially, Nathan had taken her to the Gallerie to ensure the Rot didn¡¯t wake from all the magic and blood. Why she had really decided to come, Thoko wasn¡¯t sure. She had a suspicion, though: The healers kept drifting over to the family with their own cups of strong tea, forgoing the chairs and couches servants had dragged in for them to rest on in favour of standing around the blankets where the baby werewolves tumbled over each other.


    Did they even notice that they did it? Had Greg noticed? Or Lane? Thoko couldn¡¯t help but wonder how clearly they were thinking right now. Greg had been sitting at Imani¡¯s bed, face buried in his hands, unmoving for a couple of hours now, while Lane was fully focused on Picot and whatever he was cooking up now.


    Neither one had asked Morgulon if she could help, had they?


    Thoko rubbed her chin. Her father had always said a healer¡¯s limit was his magic. Surely, having a living source of magic within the room would change things?


    She offered more tea to the old lady. In a few hours, everything would calm down, right? She¡¯d bring the matter up then.


    ***


    Just as Thoko thought the worst was over, Picot and Lane returned, the prince and Annabelle in tow. There was also a man with them that Thoko didn¡¯t recognize. A healer or a doctor, she thought. His dark robes showed the same stains as those of all the others who were fighting for their patients¡¯ lives.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± whimpered the old lady next to Thoko. It was probably a good thing that she had breath to spare to speak at all, but the sentiment appeared to be shared around the Gallerie. People stared at the man as if they expected him to sprout a second head.


    ¡°Lords and Ladies,¡± Lane spoke into the sudden hush, ¡°it is with great sadness that I have to inform you of the death of Duke Desmarais, as confirmed by his personal physician.¡±


    The stranger worried his hands, inclining his head. ¡°His heart gave out.¡±


    Thoko had to strain to hear the words.


    ¡°Despite my best efforts¡ªthe healer¡¯s and nurses¡¯ best efforts¡­ He was not as fit as he may have appeared. I¡¯m sorry. His heart gave out. I need to get back to Duke Stuard now.¡±


    The doctor ducked his head again and hurried away, leaving the people in shock. Even Thoko felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under her feet, and she had barely known the old viceroy.


    But he had been a fixture, in charge ever since she had arrived on Loegrian soil. An ally, recently. Someone who had helped Greg with the palace politics, accepted him as human, which said a lot about him, Thoko thought.


    And now he was dead.


    If David didn¡¯t make it back from Port Neaf, who was going to manage Duke Stuard then?


    And if Duke Stuard didn¡¯t make it¡ªwould they even continue the fight against the Valoise at all? Was there anyone else for the nobility of Loegrion to rally around? Would the people of Loegrion continue without them?


    But a public uprising seemed unlikely, without someone to lead it.


    They really needed David to come back.


    ***


    Suddenly, it felt like they were losing.


    Lane stood ramrod straight, head held high. People were staring at her, servants and nobles alike. The prince too. And no wonder.


    There was still no news from Port Neaf. They should have heard something by now, right? Even if this morning¡¯s attack had failed¡ªthey should have gotten the news.


    And half their leadership was dead.


    ¡°I think I need to sit down,¡± the Marques said softly next to her.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a stool somewhere around here,¡± Lane replied.


    The man drove her mad. All the more so because she had no proof of his treason. Just a bit of strange timing, a few coincidences. She couldn¡¯t even figure out what he was playing at by dragging the prince here.


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    ¡°You¡¯re not going to rest?¡± Picot asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do a round of the room first. My prince, perhaps you would like to return to your father¡¯s side?¡±


    Prince George nodded silently. He hadn¡¯t let go of Annabelle all day. Lane was glad to see him walk away alone, without Picot. Even though the Marquess was sure to bother the boy soon.


    Picot hid a yawn in his hand. ¡°I see you have your fiance¡¯s stamina,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s important in a marriage.¡±


    Then he coughed. ¡°My apologies, Lady deLande. That came out differently than it was intended.¡±


    Of course.


    ¡°I believe we are all quite tired, Marques Picot. If you will excuse me.¡±


    Lane dearly wished Theresa was here, and on the other hand, was glad that she wasn¡¯t amongst the many sick and dying. It was just that her friend was so much better at this sort of thing. Caring. Giving reassurance, a spark of hope. Even if it meant lying through her teeth.


    David would be back. Even if the treachery reached all the way to Port Neaf¡ªDavid would make it back. There was no doubt in her head he would make it back.


    That was the lie she kept repeating, praying that she didn¡¯t sound like some love-sick fool. Praying that they believed her, that they wouldn¡¯t just give up.


    Was that what Picot wanted? That Loegrion just surrendered?


    No doubt, if the Roy Solei offered them a hundred healers from Rambouillet in return for their loyalty, half the aristocrats here would grovel all the way to the Imperial Throne to hand over the werewolves and beg for forgiveness.


    Damn cowards.


    But Lane couldn¡¯t let that sentiment creep into her voice. She had to be the nice one, the caring one. Their next possible queen. If Duke Stuard didn¡¯t make it¡­


    It said a lot about the state her fellow nobles were in that she was the only one making a bid for power right now. It meant that she had to be far more subtle about it than she would have otherwise. Picot, after bringing the prince here, had made a show of not grabbing power. It wouldn¡¯t do for her to look¡ªcallous¡ªnext to him.


    By the time Lane ended her round at Imani¡¯s side, dusk was falling again, and she really, really wanted to get to sleep. She almost keeled over when Morgulon rammed her head into her side. Thoko and all the remaining Feleke¡¯s were gathered around, too, and Bishop Larssen had collapsed in a chair.


    Imani, at least, looked better than she had all day.


    When she brought that up, His Excellency blew a strand of hair out of his face and gave her a tired look.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it fool you,¡± he said. ¡°No patient is out of the woods yet. At the risk of sounding heartless, this was the easy phase. The phase during which doctors can help somewhat. We will see the symptoms ease for a few hours, possibly a couple of days, but that will be a deceit. Four to five days after the consumption, the reaping will start in earnest.¡±


    ¡°When will we know if a patient will survive?¡± Lane asked.


    Bishop Larssen shrugged. ¡°Ten days, milady. Now is the time to rest.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should take your own advice, Monseigneur,¡± Andrew said. ¡°Neither of us can do what you can do.¡±


    ¡°I would,¡± Bishop Larssen replied, ¡°but then I¡¯d have to move. Doesn¡¯t seem worth the effort.¡±


    ¡°So does it help?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°To sit next to a living source of magic? I noticed how you and the other healers kept drifting over all day.¡±


    Lane hadn¡¯t noticed that, and she wanted to kick herself for missing it. But then, so had the Felekes, apparently. Morgulon promptly curled up, hiding her nose under her tail, as if she could hide, in the middle of the Grande Gallerie.


    His Excellency looked blankly at Thoko, then glanced at Morgulon. ¡°It is quite pleasant to sit next to her,¡± he said slowly. ¡°I do feel refreshed already. It¡¯s as if she is giving off magic? Except without the Rot?¡±


    He looked at Lane then, Lord Feleke, searching. It was a scant comfort to Lane that the baron looked like he wanted to kick himself, too.


    ¡°Wait, is she?¡± the bishop asked.


    ¡°She might be,¡± Lane said. ¡°Thoko wasn¡¯t joking about the ¡®living sources of magic¡¯ part.¡±


    ¡°Never heard about them healing,¡± Nathan added, ¡°but some of them do have other magical skills. Morgulon can turn invisible.¡±


    ¡°And you did not see fit to share that?¡± Larssen asked, looking insulted. ¡°Sources of magic are precisely what we need! Even if it¡¯s just a weak effect¡­ If we had a werewolf sitting at every sickbed¡­¡±


    Lane was about to point out that Morgulon was stronger than the average werewolf, and that they didn¡¯t have nearly enough Elders, when Greg suddenly changed the topic: ¡°Monseigneur, why were you at the casino?¡±


    Larssen turned to him, looking annoyed. ¡°What casino? And how is that relevant right now?¡±


    ¡°The one where I met you, and Lords Picot, Pettau and Carter,¡± Greg said. ¡°And that general, never got his name. Please, Monseigneur.¡±


    Larssen sighed but answered: ¡°I¡¯m a regular there. Why? What¡¯s this about?¡±


    Greg glanced at Morgulon. Lane was fairly sure they conferred in silence, then Greg asked: ¡°So you didn¡¯t see the spy that I had followed all the way from the palace to that place? The spy who had searched my brother¡¯s¡ªnow Lady deLande¡¯s¡ªoffice? That¡¯s why I was at the casino, while there were still protests demanding every werewolf¡¯s death. I followed him all the way to the doors.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I lost him at the entrance of the casino, and by the time I made it past the doormen, he was gone. Morgulon and I followed his trail all the way to his home, where someone had hung him from the rafters. We found a bunch of contacts, but no hint of his employer. Morgulon thinks you genuinely tried to help my mother. So I¡¯m no longer convinced it was you. But why were you there, Monseigneur?¡±


    Greg¡¯s perfectly calm, even tired, delivery of the question made Lane¡¯s hair stand on edge. Larssen appeared to choke on his own voice. Finally, he managed: ¡°There never was a bet, was there?¡±


    ¡°No, there was no bet.¡±


    ¡°But there was¡ªa spy. Someone searched¡ªand then you followed them¡ªAnd you thought I would¡­¡±


    Larssen sighed again. ¡°But why wouldn¡¯t you? Yes, I think I know who you mean. A man, wasn¡¯t it? In a dark cloak? Somewhat heavy-set fellow?¡±


    Greg nodded. ¡°Did he talk to anyone?¡±


    Larssen hesitated, rubbing his eyes. ¡°Picot,¡± he said, softly. ¡°And Pettau. I was at the bar, so I don¡¯t know about Carter. General Sif was getting drinks with me.¡±


    ¡°You seemed to know them all quite well.¡±


    His Excellency shrugged. ¡°I know General Sif quite well. We fought together in Fylke. You see, he was the one who introduced me to that place, back when I first, well, tired of battle. It was a good place to talk candidly about my thoughts. Lords Picot and Pettau had been showing up for years, too, but I wouldn¡¯t have called them regulars until a few months ago, when Lord Carter joined them.¡±


    ¡°Monseigneur, would that be right around the time the rumours picked up that David cheated in the race for my favour?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°I¡ªnever paid attention to those rumours,¡± he said. ¡°But it might just have been that time.¡±


    ¡°So. Picot. Raise your hand if you¡¯re surprised,¡± Nathan growled.


    Nobody moved. Lane felt her stomach clench, though. On the one side, two marquesses, and a count¡ªon the other side, her and a werewolf. And possibly Baron Feleke, though Lane wasn¡¯t sure if she should ask him to leave his wife¡¯s side at this moment.


    ¡°Well, what are we waiting for?¡± Nathan added. ¡°Let¡¯s find the bastards and poke some holes into them.¡±


    He sat up and reached for the hilt of his sword, but his father held out a hand.


    ¡°Patience, Nathan. We have no proof, as suspicious as the timing is.¡± Lord Feleke¡¯s eyes were black steel. ¡°Go to Windish, Nathan. Put together the strongest group of werewolves you can. Not just Pierre, but people who can fight. Message First Camp, and if Captain Rust thinks the situation safe, call in Laurent. Morgulon, if you would follow Bishop Larssen for now? I will talk to Lord Mire. We need guards on all the healers. If the werewolves can truly help them in their task, the traitors might target them next. Lady deLande¡ª¡±


    ¡°I will challenge Picot when the time comes.¡± Lane hoped she sounded confident when she said that. How was she going to do that?


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Lord Feleke said. ¡°I would advise you find some rest now. And perhaps make sure the prince gets some, too? Uninterrupted?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave that part to Annabelle,¡± Lane said, smiling grimly. ¡°But I¡¯ll find him a room.¡±


    And maybe she would find a proof, too, with Morgulon¡¯s help. But she wasn¡¯t going to speak about that in front of Larssen.


    She was just about to get up, when Greg once again turned to Bishop Larssen: ¡°Monseigneur? The four days you mentioned. How¡ªexact¡ªis that?¡±


    ¡°Not particularly. And I¡¯m far from an expert on deathcap poisoning. The doctors said it would typically be four to ten days after the ingestion for the most deaths to occur.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s full moon,¡± Greg said, eyes fixed on Morgulon. ¡°Even if Nathan gets us a pack, we might be limited in the help we can give during those nights. But the timing might save some people, too. Maybe we should ask who would consider getting bitten.¡±


    Then he blinked and glared at Morgulon, who swished her tail.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about it,¡± Imani rasped. ¡°Would be nice, holding the cubs without worry.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s wait just a bit longer, dear,¡± Bram said quickly, leaning forwards to caress her cheek.


    ¡°By all means, though, if the bite can improve the odds, better ask people now,¡± Larssen said. ¡°They might not be able to tell you soon.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡ª¡± Nathan started, but Andrew reached out.


    ¡°Go to Windish, Nathan. Get us a pack. I¡¯ll check on Charlotte, spread the word.¡±


    He looked around. ¡°If there''s any news from David, somebody let me know.¡±


    ¡°Me too, please,¡± Lane said.

 Chapter 170

    Outside, rain came down in torrents, prattling against the windows, a sudden thunderstorm. Sometimes, lightning threw the sad state of the Grande Gallerie into stark relief. People sat around idly, many of them resting after the torturous day they had gone through, yet few of them actually sleeping.


    Fear kept them awake.


    Lane on the other hand felt herself flagging. She had been up since yesterday morning without proper rest, and as the lights inside and out dimmed, her body was demanding sleep. She had to suppress a yawn as she walked down the Gallerie to collect the prince, so that at least the boy could rest.


    Picot was with him.


    Damn that man. Why would he drag the boy away from his father? What was the point?


    And worst, he was telling the prince in great detail what the doctors had said about the effects of death cap poisoning.


    Damn that bastard. She had no patience left for his machinations.


    ¡°Your Lordship, I think that¡¯s quite enough,¡± Lane interrupted him sharply. All that was missing was that Picot tried to draw the boy a picture of a half-destroyed liver!


    ¡°It is getting late. I rather believe its high time His Highness went to bed,¡± Lane added.


    Before Picot could say anything, George grabbed her hand. ¡°Can we go right now?¡± he asked, dark eyes wet, and showing the white all around. His face was pale and his grip was cold and clammy.


    ¡°I believe that would be best,¡± Lane said, trying to sound more gentle as she turned to him.


    She waited as Annabelle swung around them¡ªGeorge was still attached to her, as if he feared she would disappear if he let go.


    He shouldn¡¯t be here at all. She shouldn¡¯t have let Picot bring him here¡ªor only as a concerned relative. Not as the prince and future king of Loegrion.


    ¡°Let¡¯s stop with the Felekes, so one of them can escort you home,¡± Lane said.


    Marquess Picot on her other side cleared his throat at once. ¡°Milady, I¡¯ve taken the liberty of having Duke Stuard¡¯s rooms here in the palace made ready. Surely, after such a long day, we should save the prince the long trip?¡±


    Not that long. And it would get him out of Picot¡¯s immediate reach.


    ¡°Would you like to go or do you prefer to stay?¡± she asked. ¡°I assure you, it would be no trouble to take you to and from the palace. Anna could go with you.¡±


    And she would shoot any noble trying to stop the werewolf herself.


    But the prince yawned hugely and muttered: ¡°Don¡¯t want to ride.¡±


    All right then. That round she had lost. Picot gave her a small, triumphant smile.


    Lane swallowed the sudden wave of panic at the sight. How was she going to challenge the man on his treachery? In front of all the remaining nobility?


    She barely managed to keep Wardshire running, and only with extensive help from her loyal servants. She really needed allies to manage this crisis, keep the prince safe. Stop the country from falling into chaos. Prove Picot¡¯s guilt and stop him from taking control of the palace.


    But who was even still able to help? Imani would have been Lane¡¯s first choice of help, but, well¡­


    Lord Mire then, if he would even talk to her while all three of his sons awaited death.


    Who else? Marquess deBurg was at Port Neaf, Marquess Pettau likely a traitor¡ªwhat about his son at Port Neaf?


    But David would have to deal with that.


    Marquess Rover¡­ Was her best choice, wasn¡¯t he? Inexperienced as he was. Did he have his father¡¯s spine of steel?


    Lane supposed they¡¯d find out, soon.


    Marquess Malesmaines was back at King¡¯s Haven, guarding his city. Could she get his backing?


    But his backing on what? What was she going to tell them? That she was aiming for the crown?


    Did she want that? And was Loegrion ready to be ruled by a woman?


    It didn¡¯t seem likely. And it wouldn¡¯t endear her to people, either.


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    No. No, she was being foolish. She wasn¡¯t dabbling in politics at all, was she? All she wanted was to find the killer and prevent more deaths. As any upstanding person would in this situation.


    Yes. That she could take to Lord Mire, and even Pettau¡ªshe was curious for his reaction. To the young Lord deBurg, too, who would possibly be the last of his family, soon. Desmarais¡¯s daughter. Count Levier. Commander Bacrot. The old Lady deVale.


    Lane tried to think of more names while the prince briefly said good night to his father, tried to think of the best order to approach them, then decided the best order was fast.


    ¡°Can the werewolves help?¡±


    George¡¯s quiet question made Lane jump. She really had to be tired if she had missed the sound of the door and the giant wolf walking up.


    ¡°Hopefully,¡± Lane said.


    The boy reached for her hand again, ignoring Picot¡¯s offered one. Score for her?


    Lane glanced at the Marquess and caught him throwing a hateful look at Annabelle, which made her decide not to say anything more about the werewolves¡¯ help right now.


    Besides. She absolutely shouldn¡¯t promise anything she couldn¡¯t deliver. The last thing she needed was for someone to accuse the werewolves of not doing everything they could for the human sick, just because she had set expectations too high.


    Lane walked the prince to his father¡¯s apartment, waited for him and Annabelle to go inside, then firmly closed the door behind them, right in Picot¡¯s face.


    ¡°Lady deLande,¡± the Marquess protested promptly. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we¡ª¡±


    ¡°His Highness is old enough to go to bed on his own,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Yes, but the werewolf¡ª¡±


    ¡°What about her? It¡¯s five nights until full moon. There¡¯s no risk of her losing control.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think she might try to turn him? While he¡¯s a child and his chances are better?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Lane crossed her arms over her chest. ¡°No, I really don¡¯t think she will. Not least because she would never leave the palace alive if she tried. Werewolves don¡¯t live as long as her unless they have a healthy sense of self-preservation.¡±


    Picot spluttered something unintelligible, waving his arms angrily. Lane almost laughed at him. ¡°I do think Anna won¡¯t take kindly to her charge¡¯s sleep being interrupted, and I shall send for additional guards from the Stuard estates. The prince¡¯s governess, too. His tutors, if they¡¯re willing to come. He should have familiar faces, especially right now. There is no point in scaring him further.¡±


    ¡°Lady deLande,¡± Picot protested again, ¡°I would on the contrary argue that we should all be very scared indeed right now!¡±


    Lane pulled herself up. ¡°And what good would that do, Lord Picot? What good does scaring a boy, a child, ever do?¡±


    ¡°It might lend some much needed perspective,¡± he said, waving his arms again. ¡°Some¡ª realism! We¡¯ve lost at Port Neaf, Lady deLande! You know that, and I know that, let¡¯s stop lying to each other! We¡¯d have had news hours ago, if the battle were going well.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Lane said sharply. ¡°They might simply be busy. General Clermont might have decided not to give away any more information until the traitor here at the palace has been found. The battle might still be undecided that¡¯s not the same as lost.¡±


    She took a deep breath, looking him up and down. ¡°There are a too many possible reasons why we haven¡¯t heard anything, and the only way you could know for sure was if you had sources not from within Loegrion.¡±


    Lane waited for a reaction from him, some kind of tell, maybe even an admission of his treachery, but he was too smart for that. He just folded his hands over his stomach, looking at her earnestly. ¡°But what if I¡¯m right? What if the battle was lost, if the Valoisian army is landing at our shores as we speak? Wouldn¡¯t it be wiser to surrender now, while we may still have some options to negotiate?¡±


    ¡°If the Valoise are landing at our shores right now, then we shall throw them back,¡± Lane replied, throwing back her head.


    ¡°What if we can¡¯t? Why¡ªwhy risk it in the first place? Why would you allow this war to spread¡ªmaybe all the way to Deva? For what? A man who will be dead in a few days? Just think of all the women who will be widows, helplessly violated by the aggressors¡ªWe can still appeal to the mercy of the Church of Mithras, but we have to do it now!¡±


    ¡°Only Mithras Himself can grant mercy to the sinful,¡± Lane said softly. ¡°His Church may only ensure they stand before Him promptly. Or is that no longer the doctrine of the Inquisition?¡±


    She didn¡¯t wait for Picot to come up with an answer to that. ¡°Do you really think if we open the gates for the same aggressors you just brought up, that our women will be spared?¡±


    Lane laughed then, laughed in his face. ¡°I was raped twice by men of the Church, first by my home town''s priest, and then the husband my father picked for me. I was beaten till I could not stand by the man many hailed as the next High Inquisitor. The Church of Mithras wouldn¡¯t even know how to spell mercy! I will gladly take the coin toss and face His judgement on my own, before I put my fate into the hands of Valoisian men again.¡±


    She took a deep breath. ¡°Likewise, Loegrion has been savaged by the Empire, squeezed out of anything useful in taxes and tributes, while our men bled overseas for the Roi Solei¡¯s stupid wars and never ending greed. I shudder to think of the reparations they would demand of us now. In fact, I believe if Loegrion is to survive at all, we have no choice but to fight on and fight with all our might.¡±


    ¡°All the werewolves¡¯ might, isn¡¯t that what you truly mean? Will you truly make us all slaves of monsters rather than subjects of the Empire?¡±


    ¡°There have never been slaves on Loegrian soil,¡± Lane replied curtly. ¡°As Lord Gregory Feleke pointed out at Breachpoint not too long ago. I see no reason to change that.¡±


    Picot pulled himself up as if to argue back, then sighed and suddenly deflated. ¡°Perhaps we should continue this discussion after some rest,¡± he said. ¡°Clearly, we¡¯re all fraught with nerves. Perhaps you will be open to discuss the future of Loegrion tomorrow?¡±


    Lane really didn¡¯t see any point in talking about the issue further. But she nodded. ¡°I hope you will rest well,¡± she said.


    ¡°You too, Milady. Good night.¡±


    Lane waited until he actually walked away before she turned around, then jumped when she realised Greg was standing in the middle of the corridor.


    So had Picot turned tail so suddenly because he didn¡¯t want to debate them both, or because Greg was a werewolf?


    ¡°Are you all right?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Lane said. ¡°I have no idea what we¡¯ll do about him, but it¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Greg said. ¡°I just wanted to let you know that Laurent is on his way from First Camp. Are you going to catch some rest now?¡±


    Lane smiled weakly. ¡°I¡¯ll try. What about you?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll find a couch at the Grande Gallerie. Or just turn wolf


    and curl up on the floor.¡±


    ¡°Good night then,¡± Lane said.

 Chapter 171

    To Lane¡¯s surprise and dismay, the office was brightly lit when she got there. Grooch was sitting at his desk, a huge stack of ledgers in front of him. She stopped in the door, watching as he flipped through the pages, muttering under his breath. It didn¡¯t sound like he was finding what he was looking for, and it didn¡¯t sound like he was just working on another issue with the paper vouchers.


    ¡°Mr. Grooch?¡± Lane asked.


    He nearly jumped out of his chair at the address.


    ¡°Your Ladyship. Is there any news? Better news?¡± he added. ¡°I heard about Duke Desmarais¡­¡±


    He trailed off, sounding lost.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± Lane said. ¡°We¡¯ve had no word from Port Neaf. May I ask what you¡¯re working on?¡±


    He closed the ledger he¡¯d been brooding over with a thump. ¡°I was hoping to do my part in solving this heinous crime,¡± he explained. ¡°But I¡¯m being stumped! I cannot find the right kind of information!¡±


    ¡°But you¡ªhave a lead to follow?¡±


    ¡°The mushrooms, Milady,¡± Grooch said. He looked gaunt, like he hadn¡¯t slept last night, either.


    ¡°Can you elaborate on that?¡± Lane asked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, it¡¯s been a long day,¡± she added, when he looked up at her in surprise.


    ¡°Of course. Well, we know that the spy, Robert Vavre, he had an interest in wild mushrooms. It was in the dossier. And the only thing missing from his kitchen were jars full of preserve, weren¡¯t they? Just as the preserved mushrooms that were added to the food? So it occurred to me that if I could find out where Vavre travelled to collect his mushrooms¡ªperhaps he did it on his sponsor¡¯s lands? But I cannot find the necessary information. He must not have turned in any travel expenses for this. I thought everybody skims something off the top every once in a while, but apparently, he was to smart to do it for this.¡±


    Lane walked around the main desk to drop into the heavy armchair there. She was really tempted to put up her feet on the desktop, like David would, but then stopped herself.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad somebody is still thinking clearly,¡± she said. How could she have forgotten about Vavre and the damn mushrooms? Jars of preserve, missing.


    They wouldn¡¯t have been labelled, would they?


    But Vavre had kept them with his own food, not at a separate storage. And whoever had killed him had had no issue finding the right jars, had they?


    So the question was, where were those jars now?


    ¡°Milady?¡± Grooch asked, when she didn¡¯t say anything else.


    She drummed her fingers onto the armrests. ¡°Do you know what happened to Vavre¡¯s house?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, Milady. But I¡¯m sure I can find out.¡±


    Lane nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s draft up a letter, for Duke Stuard to sign. I need him to grant me authority over his guards and¡ªspecialists, just in case. We need to have everything his men collected on Vavre.¡±


    ¡°Will he be able to sign, though?¡±


    George Louis better be. He was getting a doctor and a healer all to himself, after all.


    Already, there was only a single bed visible in the infirmary. The two nuns on duty, plus the physician and the healer felt like a crowd, compared to the few doctors and mages downstairs at the Gallerie tending to dozens of patients. They all stared at Lane when she came in, but nobody attempted to stop her. When the duke waved at them, they retreated into a side room.


    ¡°Glad to see you haven¡¯t forgotten me completely,¡± Duke Stuard grumbled when she sat down next to his bed. The linens looked clean, so they must have been changed recently, and he wore a clean nightdress, too.


    ¡°Any news from David?¡± George Louis asked when Lane took too long to take in the room.


    His face fell when she shook her head. ¡°There has been no news from Port Neaf at all, Your Highness. I fear we have to assume the same treachery that struck here struck them, too. I intend to find out who is behind that.¡±


    She offered him the leather binder she had carried, with the powers of command she and Grooch had drawn up.


    ¡°You really think it still makes a difference who was behind this?¡± He looked so terribly tired then, tired and scared. ¡°If David doesn¡¯t make it back¡­¡±


    ¡°He will, Your Highness. I said treachery struck them. But I refuse to believe that he would be so easy to kill, especially given the force he was surrounded by.¡±


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    ¡°So we¡¯re placing all our bets on him?¡± George Louis looked away. ¡°I¡¯ve been told not to get George¡¯s hopes up, even if I do feel quite fine right now.¡±


    Lane nodded. It was odd to talk to him now, to see him sitting in bed, after the earlier ordeal. She had spoken to unsettled werewolves before, so it wasn¡¯t like she didn¡¯t know how fast the tables could turn. But she had never spoken to someone she knew would die of sickness in just a few days.


    What did you say in a situation like that?


    ¡°Do you want comfort or honesty, Your Highness?¡±


    George Louis laughed at her when she folded her hands behind her back, and not in a nice way. ¡°By any means, if you have comfort to give, I¡¯d love to hear it.¡±


    Lane pursed her lips. His derision made her wonder why she should even bother to try and comfort him. On the other hand¡­ He did quite hate the werewolves. So maybe this would be more annoying than comforting to him.


    ¡°Morgulon is downstairs at the Grande Gallerie, a living source of magic. Perhaps it would be a good idea for the Royal Healer to seek her out, rest by her side for a bit. Bishop Larssen said it¡¯s quite refreshing just to sit with her. Nathan is on his way to bring us a larger pack,¡± Lane added, before George Louis could ask.


    ¡°How much help can they render?¡±


    Lane shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Your Highness. It¡¯s strong enough that all the healers in the Grande Gallerie appear to be drawn to her even without knowing why. But it is subtle enough that they didn¡¯t realise they were doing it.¡±


    His Highness mulled that over. ¡°And if I had asked for honesty. What would you have told me?¡±


    ¡°In that case, I¡¯d have pointed out that while the werewolves can help some, it will be full moon just as the most patients will die and that your best hopes may lie in the coin toss at this point.¡±


    He glared at her then. ¡°No way am I going to try that.¡±


    Lane glanced over her shoulder, shrugging. ¡°It might make you more attractive to his Lordship,¡± she said, voice lowered even though everyone else had retreated to give them privacy.


    ¡°Over my dead body,¡± he growled at her.


    ¡°That does seem to be the most likely other option,¡± Lane said dryly. She stared down at the folder in her hands. ¡°There is not just David, Your Highness. There is also your son to think of. Marques Picot is already attempting to make a pawn of him. I do not know to what end, but I do believe that Picot was behind this¡ªor at the very least, involved. Bishop Larssen has confirmed that it was Picot who spoke to the spy Gregory Feleke followed. The spy from whose kitchen the poison most likely came in the first place.¡±


    ¡°And you are letting him get away with that?¡±


    Lane held out the writ. ¡°With your signature here, I believe I can stop him.¡±


    ¡°Sure you do. And I guess I should sign over Mannin, too, while I¡¯m at it?¡±


    ¡°Do you want revenge or not?¡± Lane folded her arms across her chest. ¡°I¡¯m going to get him. But if you want me to do it in the next three days, while you¡¯re still able to appreciate what¡¯s going on, I¡¯ll need some help.¡±


    ¡°Three days, is it now?¡±


    Lane pressed her lips together, looking him up and down. ¡°The poison is eating up your liver as we speak,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°Dissolving it into goo, if I understood correctly. As the process progresses, patients first become confused, then sleepy, turning harder and harder to wake, until they fall asleep and never wake again. That¡¯s what your own best physicians told me. So if you would like to be awake and lucid enough to see what Picot has coming, I believe we shouldn¡¯t take more than three days.¡±


    ¡°You really have a way with the honesty,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Not so much with the comfort.¡±


    He paused for a moment, then held out a hand. ¡°I¡¯ll need ink. Wax, too.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Lane left him to read the text, and went to find the healer and physician in their little study bordering the main infirmary. Both of them were resting on couches along the walls. One of the attending nuns glared at the interruption. The woman did let her have some wax and ink, just to get her out of the room, Lane suspected. She had brought a quill, so that was good enough.


    Quietly, she walked back. When she rounded the corner, Duke George Louis had put down the papers, staring into nothing, one hand pressed to his midriff as if he were searching for a sense of what was going on inside there. He wasn¡¯t crying, but his lips formed a thin, bloodless line and the papers rustled from the way his knee was nervously bouncing up and down.


    The movement stopped as soon as Lane rounded the corner, and the leery grin he flashed her dared her to say anything.


    Without a word, Lane dragged over one of the little tables the doctor kept his tools on, and a candlestick from the night light to melt the wax on, so that the duke wouldn¡¯t need to rise. She didn¡¯t want the nurses more angry at her than necessary.


    George Louis watched as she set everything up, then reached for the pen. Instead of just signing, he began writing.


    ¡°I expect you to do more with this than just find the killers,¡± he said. ¡°I know Annebelle is by his side, but George will need human allies, too. Do not allow Picot to drag him into whatever mad scheme this is.¡±


    He looked up from his writing, nailing her with his gaze. ¡°Please. I know we have rarely seen eye to eye, but he¡¯s a child. You know David wouldn¡¯t have abandoned him.¡±


    Funny, how it always came back to David for him.


    ¡°Neither will I,¡± Lane said aloud. ¡°Nor will any of his brothers. Human or otherwise.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t sure if the duke had even heard her.


    ¡°If there is any news,¡± he said, ¡°good or otherwise¡­ I want to hear it. As long as I can¡­ I want to know what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    He nodded, looking away. Then he abruptly changed the topic. ¡°Has the Roi Solei set his terms yet? Sent us an ultimatum?¡±


    ¡°Do you think he will?¡±


    ¡°It would be the easiest way to quell this rebellion, would it not? Poison its leaders, secure the prince, then frighten the aristocracy until they accept whatever demands Rambouillet makes.¡±


    Defeat the army, was the point he hadn¡¯t raised.


    ¡°As far as I¡¯m aware, no demands have been made,¡± Lane said. ¡°But I¡¯ll keep an eye out.¡±


    The nobility was certainly frightened. If George Louis was right¡ªif the Roi Solei offered them peace right now¡­


    ¡°I need to drop this off with Grooch, then go back to the Grande Gallerie,¡± she said. Make a final round. Be seen up and about. Offer what little hope she could.


    Try to hold it all together, even if she had no clue how.

 Chapter 172

    David woke up with a headache. There was a bruise on the back of his head, too, a large, painful welt. The light was too bright, as if he¡¯d been drinking¡ªhe was fairly sure he hadn¡¯t been, but he didn¡¯t know where he was, either. He appeared to be lying on the floor. A cold and dusty floor at that.


    There were bars right in front of his face. Steel bars, as thick around as a broom handle.


    He was inside a cage. Inside one of the cages that General Clermont had had set up for the werewolves.


    On the other side of the bars lay what remained of the camp. Soldiers in yellow uniforms¡ªValoisian uniforms¡ªwere busy setting up a large tent right across from him, digging latrines, and generally settling in.


    David grimaced softly and suppressed a groan as the memory of their defeat slowly returned.


    Alvin was dead. Lenny was dead. The moon alone knew how many more werewolves had died.


    And he had been captured.


    He also had a concussion, if he wasn¡¯t very much mistaken. When David carefully reached out to touch the bruise on his head, someone moved behind him.


    ¡°Lord Feleke?¡±


    The voice was familiar, but David couldn¡¯t place it. When he tried to roll over to see who he shared his prison with, his stomach heaved. He swallowed reflexively, lying on his back like a turtle, eyes pressed shut.


    Mithras¡¯s flaming torch, his head hurt.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, you¡¯re alive!¡±


    ¡°Afraid so,¡± David muttered. He didn¡¯t exactly look forward to whatever the Valoise had planned for him. Them.


    When he slowly opened his eyes again, he saw Marquess deBurg kneeling over him, the young Pettau hovering behind.


    ¡°Thank the Sun. I thought you were dead.¡±


    ¡°How long was I out?¡± David asked, his voice barely more than a rasp.


    ¡°A few hours,¡± deBurg said.


    David closed his eyes again. Even lying flat on his back, the world swam around him. But he had to see¡­ He raised his right arm over his face. The arm where his blood had mixed with Alvin¡¯s. He needed to see how much shit he was in.


    His palms and his lower arm were itching. He had expected pain. A lot of pain. He knew hunters who had cut off their own limbs when they got werewolf-blood under their skin. It was an intensely magical substance, and it usually turned to Rot if it came in contact with something as mundane as human blood.


    David took another deep breath and opened his eyes again. Then he blinked. The wounds looked nothing like he had expected. He had expected grey lines creeping up his arm, poisoning him, or even for the flesh to be eaten away the way Nathan¡¯s food had been eaten¡ªbut all there was, were a few faint silver lines. They glowed in the dark, like the fire Lenny had burned out in.


    He didn¡¯t know what this faint itching meant.


    He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. As if there was someone standing right behind him. It reminded him a little bit of Morgulon¡¯s presence, yet fainter, less sharp and pronounced.


    Which brought up another thought. ¡°Did I get bitten?¡±


    DeBurg and Pettau moved away from him at once, but the Marquess said: ¡°Not that I could tell.¡±


    ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°Me? No!¡±


    ¡°Why the cage then?¡±


    ¡°Oh. I believe that it was simply convenient.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    David tried to wet his lips, find some moisture in his mouth. Before he could ask for water, he heard some more movements, and something cold pressed against his lips. He almost choked on the drink Pettau offered him.


    At least they weren¡¯t being starved.


    ¡°How bad?¡± he finally asked.


    There was no answer, just more scraping on the wood. When David opened his eyes again, deBurg had sat down, leaning against the bar, his back to the camp. He shrugged when he noticed that David was looking.


    ¡°Hard to imagine how things could be worse,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ve failed to take the harbour, the army¡¯s been routed, General Clermont is dead, and so are at least half the soldiers. Human and otherwise. The Valoise are disembarking their army as we speak. And we¡¯re getting to enjoy his majesty¡¯s hospitality.¡±


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    ¡°Clermont is dead?¡±


    DeBurg massaged his eyebrow, then nodded silently, face grim.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± David said.


    ¡°He should have stayed retired,¡± the Marquess muttered. ¡°Enjoy his time with his dogs. I don¡¯t know why he even agreed to take this position. We should have all just¡ªstayed home.¡±


    David didn¡¯t say anything to that. Let the man grieve in peace while he could.


    Instead, he watched the preparations of the enemy. Still pitching tents, orderly rows of them. Fires were turning the night into day. The smell of food made him both hungry and nauseous at the same time. A cheer went up as a group of soldiers rolled a couple of barrels down from the city. Rum rations, David guessed, and probably more than usual. After all, they had just won an important battle.


    He tried to remind himself that it wasn¡¯t the first battle that mattered but the last, but he still felt a sickness that didn¡¯t just stem from his head wound. So many Loegrian soldiers, so many werewolves dead, and for what?


    And what was going on at Deva right now? Was there even still any point to fighting this war? Had it really been death cap?


    ¡°I could use a drink of that,¡± de Burg muttered as a couple of pisscoats walked right past their cage, cups swinging wildly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think I could keep it down,¡± David muttered, feeling at the welt on his head. ¡°And I bet they¡¯d spit into it, anyway.¡±


    DeBurg chuckled darkly. ¡°Who do you think is the traitor?¡± de Burg asked suddeny.


    ¡°No way to tell, is there?¡± David said.


    ¡°Then guess, man!¡±


    David blinked slowly at him. DeBurg¡¯s tone made him want to yell back, but on the other hand, he was curious about what the marquess would think of his suspicions.


    ¡°Marquesses Picot or Pettau, Count Carter, or on an outside chance, Bishop Larssen.¡±


    DeBurg sputtered. ¡°Bishop¡ª¡±


    ¡°My father would never¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why these names?¡± deBurg asked. ¡°They have no connection to anything? Picot is part of the war council, sure, but so am I.¡±


    David sighed and gently rolled his head until he found a position that allowed him to look at the other two without lying on the injury. Then he told them about the man Greg had caught searching his office and who he had met at the casino afterwards. The dead spy. About his own conversation with deVale after their duell.


    ¡°Not my father,¡± Pettau muttered softly when David had finished.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bet two silvers on Picot.¡± David yawned, which sent a new wave of hurt through his skull. ¡°Do we have any idea where deVale is? Did he fall, too?¡±


    ¡°I think I saw him escape on the back of one of the werewolves,¡± deBurg said slowly. ¡°But I also thought the werewolf had blue light burning in its fur. So maybe I imagined that.¡±


    ¡°Must¡¯ve been Ragna or Rust,¡± David muttered. ¡°And they made it out?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡± DeBurg fiddled with the hemline of his uniform. ¡°I thought I saw them race straight past the traitors firing line. I could have sworn three volleys aimed at them, but no bullet struck. But that can¡¯t be, can it? Maybe the werewolf just didn¡¯t lose its stride?¡±


    ¡°What traitors?¡± David asked.


    ¡°There was at least one battalion,¡± deBurg said. ¡°Maybe two. Of our own people. Must¡¯ve marched up from the defected southern provinces. At least same time, the defenders sailed from the castle, and the mariners came up from the harbour. It was all surprisingly well orchestrated. No way it was coincidence.¡±


    ¡°Explains why they fought us the way they did,¡± David muttered. ¡°The civilians, I mean. I thought they just hated the werewolves.¡±


    ¡°Feared them, more likely,¡± deBurg said. ¡°You know it¡¯s said that they have no souls, right? No afterlife at all for them.¡±


    ¡°Sounds peaceful,¡± David said. ¡°Better than going to the frozen hells for sure.¡±


    He ignored deBurg¡¯s and Pettaus shocked faces. DeVale had escaped. With one of the elders. How many other werewolves had gotten away? How many of the unsettled ones?


    Maybe it was a good thing they were stuck inside this cage. Provided they didn¡¯t get kicked out right before full moon.


    David¡¯s right hand itched again. He tried to be surreptitious when he rubbed it, so as not to draw attention to the wound¡ªor rather, the scars. The deep cuts in his palm and wrist were just a few hours old, yet all that remained were a few thin, blueish-white lines, stark against his brown skin.


    Something was happening to his arm, but he couldn¡¯t quite summon the energy to freak out about it.


    ***


    David groaned when deBurg shook him awake. His head still ached and he growled a ¡°what?¡± at the Marques.


    ¡°Look!¡± deBurg hissed back. It was still dark, so his face was hidden in shadows, but David thought the man looked scared. Pettau stood pressed up against the bars as if he thought he could push himself through them.


    ¡°What is that?¡± the Marques whispered, pointing at a corner of the cage.


    David blinked and looked around wearily. He couldn¡¯t see anything to warrant waking him up. Outside their prison, the Valoisian war camp bustled about. Inside, there was just the bucket they had been so generously granted.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to look at it from the right angle,¡± deBurg said, before Dvid could complain. ¡°Step over here!¡±


    David groaned, but the urgency in the older man¡¯s voice made him roll around and push himself into a sitting position. He still couldn¡¯t see anything in the corner which deBurg was staring at.


    Or couldn¡¯t he?


    ¡°Tell me that¡¯s one of your tricks!¡± deBurg hissed into his ear, clearly scared, and clearly trying not to alert the Valoise. Pettau didn¡¯t move, either.


    David blinked. In the shadows of the cage¡¯s wooden back, he saw a faint glow¡ªa sort of outline. It was quite large, and when he blinked again, he realised that it reached all the way to his legs. The barely visible, hazy front paw of a young werewolf disappeared into his boots.


    ¡°Alvin,¡± David whispered.


    There was no reaction. No sign the apparition had heard him. If it weren¡¯t for Pettau, frozen stiff, and deBurg, kneeling behind him, his grip painful on David¡¯s shoulder, he would have been sure it was just a trick of the light, a figment of his imagination, brought forth by his grief.


    He reached out with his hand, tried to touch¡ªbut his hand went right through the apparition.


    ¡°Alvin,¡± he repeated, a little louder. He tried to bring forth a spark of magic into his fingers, but it didn¡¯t do anything, either. He should have been able to smell the wolf, this close. Still, every sense but his eyes told him that there was nothing there at all.


    He tried to swallow a sob, but it was too big to keep down.


    When the tears started flowing, the faintly glowing shape shifted around, shaking itself before turning in a tight circle and settling down again. By a sliver of moonlight, David could see the faintest hint of markings on the shade¡¯s fur. It was Alvin¡¯s werewolf shape¡ªbut the boy wasn¡¯t there.


    Just the wolf.

 Chapter 173

    Lane got a decent six hours of sleep before a woman she had never seen woke her up. She introduced herself as Duke George Louis¡¯s Head Housekeeper, Mrs. Ehrik, who had sprung into action as soon as Grooch had had a copy of Lane¡¯s new authority delivered.


    Which meant that there was breakfast, cooked in the safety of the Stuard mansion in the city, for Lane and the prince and by extension, anyone who worked for her. Mrs. Ehrik was stiff around the werewolves, clearly scared and worried about Greg, yet treating Annabelle with such reverence that Lane could only conclude that Prince George had told her the truth about his mother.


    Which was going to be a problem, eventually, but right now, Lane couldn¡¯t bring herself to worry about it.


    While she enjoyed the food, one of the duke¡¯s special servants reported on their findings of the night. Which amounted to ¡°not very much.¡± They had searched all the kitchens again, with a jar from Vavre''s house for comparison, all the waste collection places¡ªnot just inside the palace, but just outside, too. He wanted a werewolf on guard so he could have people go into the river, too.


    Since Nathan had arrived back from Windish with every stable werewolf that could be spared, that request wasn¡¯t a problem, though Lane wondered what good it would do. Even if they found the jars in the water, how could they prove who had put them there?


    ¡°We need to find them first,¡± the man shrugged. ¡°Then we see about the rest. We are preparing to break into the suspects¡¯ rooms, too, which frankly, is probably our best chance. We hope to be ready tonight.¡±


    Lane nodded. She agreed that searching Picot¡¯s and Pettau¡¯s places directly was probably their best chance of finding proof of their treachery.


    She went back to the Gallerie, checking on Imani and Charlene deBurg. There was an elder for every two healers in the palace now, though they still only had a bare handful of those ¡°true¡± elders capable of transforming even on a new moon.


    The nobles on the Grande Gallerie hardly even complained about all the werewolves, not after Bishop Larssen had told them that it might help.


    Faced with their sudden mortality, a lot of the sick were listening very closely to what the bishop had to say.


    There was a brief period of hope, the sick feeling better if inexplicably tired, the werewolves shadowing the healers, who looked just a tiny bit less exhausted.


    And then the news from Port Neaf reached them.


    Picot dragged the shaking young man in his dirty red uniform into the centre of the Gallerie, so everyone could hear his breathless testimony of what had happened.


    Two horses he had ridden to death, the young man claimed, and then he had jogged the rest of the way, despite his own injuries, to the trainstation at Virkwall, the most southern stop with regular travel. Lane believed him. Kind people had given the soldier food and water on the train, but he still looked near death himself.


    The story he told¡ªof ships landing just as the city seemed to have fallen, of werewolves and humans dying alike, of a hostile relief-force from the south, so many soldiers armed with silver¡ª


    And no word from David.


    ¡°He was down at the harbour, milady. A lot of werewolves made it out of that deathtrap, I don¡¯t know how, but I didn¡¯t see him when I fought my way out of the city.¡±


    ¡°Who sent you?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Or did you take this journey on your own?¡±


    ¡°No, milady, Count deVale sent me. He sent two others, too?¡±


    ¡°Count deVale. So he lives,¡± Picot repeated, probably for all the people listening in.


    ¡°Yes, milord. The count rode out of the city on a werewolf¡¯s back! A huge red beast it was, I saw it with my own two eyes! The traitors fired at them, but the bullets just fell out of the air!¡±


    He coughed, and added: ¡°The count stayed to gather the army¡ªlead everyone north, slow the Valoise, if possible.¡±


    ¡°So Count deVale is still fighting,¡± Lane said. That at least was a relief.


    ¡°Yes, milady! We¡¯ll fight for every yard of Loegrion!¡± The soldier started coughing again.


    Lane looked towards a nurse. ¡°Take him to the infirmary, please. Duke George Louis will want to hear the news, and the doctor there can see to his injuries.¡±


    The last thing she needed was for the soldier to collapse in front of everybody, even if it was just exhaustion. Intentionally or not, deVale had helped her with his choice of messenger. The soldier¡¯s fighting spirit was admirable.


    Which didn¡¯t change the fact that they had lost. Lost Port Neaf, a large part of their army, and any chance of stopping the Valoise from landing.


    ¡°My condolences,¡± Picot said.


    ¡°We do now know what happened to Lord Feleke yet,¡± Lane reminded him, pulling herself up. ¡°If Count deVale has not given up, then neither shall I.¡±


    It wouldn¡¯t do. She knew it wouldn¡¯t. She had been wondering about what to say once the news hit them, and she still had no idea how to rally morale.


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    Picot didn¡¯t say anything, either. She had expected him to appeal to the sick and their relatives right away, but he just rubbed his lower arms restlessly.


    ¡°Perhaps you would meet me in my quarters later today?¡± he finally said. ¡°Not just the two of us,¡± he quickly added. ¡°The full council.¡±


    ¡°So you mean Marquess Rover, you and me?¡±


    ¡°Lord Mire, too, if he will join us,¡± Picot said. ¡°Charlene Desmarais, if she will leave her mother¡¯s side. The Prince. Possibly other nobles in good health. It¡¯s time to make a decision on the future. Surely, you can agree to that? As the aristocracy of Loegrion, it falls to us to make a that choice.¡±


    ¡°Without hearing Duke Stuard, first?¡±


    ¡°With all respect for the duke,¡± Picot said. ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll have to live with this decision. Or do you disagree?¡±


    ¡°I believe that since he was the one who led us into this situation, we should at least see if he has a way out,¡± Lane said. She still had faith in Morgulon. But she also had to admit that bringing in the pack hadn¡¯t been as much of a change as she had hoped.


    ¡°By all means, speak to him,¡± Picot said. ¡°It will take some time to set everything up. But will you be there?¡±


    ¡°Let me know the time, and I shall,¡± Lane promised.


    Maybe this was actually a positive development.


    She went to find Morgulon, who was still following Bishop Larssen around. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Monseigneur, I need to borrow your shadow for a little while.¡±


    He smiled at her, face pale and gaunt. ¡°I should eat something anyway. Perhaps I¡¯ll even rest a little. Thank you for your help,¡± he added. ¡°Please, find me again when you¡¯re ready.¡±


    Morgulon inclined her head, then walked after Lane. Infirmary first. She had briefly talked to the duke in the morning, to let him know that the prince was with his tutor. He dozed when she came in but woke when she asked his caretakers to give them a few minutes of privacy.


    ¡°You heard the news?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°I did hear,¡± George Louis grumbled. ¡°You promised to take that bastard down.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m planning to do it today, in fact,¡± Lane said. She cast around the room for a clean sheet, and pulled one off a bed, holding it out to Morgulon. The werewolf tilted her head at her, but understood quickly when Lane added: ¡°Morgulon, Lord Picot has invited me and some others into his quarters to discuss the next steps. How long can you be invisible?¡±


    The werewolf flowed into her other shape and with a sigh, grabbed the blanket. She held it up in front of herself, frowning at it, instead of wrapping herself up in it as Lane would have thought. ¡°How long. You need?¡±


    ¡°If I walk across the palace to Picot¡¯s quarters, can you follow me invisibly all the way to the door, get inside unseen, and search his rooms? You¡¯ll probably need to be human for that, too.¡±


    ¡°Search. For what?¡±


    ¡°The jars the poisonous mushrooms were in.¡±


    ¡°Why would he still have them?¡± Duke George Louis asked. ¡°And how would you even recognize them?¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t come up in any of the waste collection places in the kitchen or the rest of the palace,¡± Lane said. ¡°Your own men searched for them after you gave me control of them last night. Picot didn¡¯t leave the palace either. If he¡¯s got a confidant with the servants, we might be screwed, but I think we need to look for them. I¡¯m confident they¡¯ll be labelled because whoever picked them out at Vavre¡¯s house didn¡¯t bother bringing the other jars of mixed pickled mushrooms that were down there in the basement. That was also confirmed by your own spies.¡±


    She looked at Morgulon. ¡°If you can¡¯t find the jars, any other link to Rambouillet will do. But the jars would be best. If you cannot find anything at Picot¡¯s quarters, I¡¯ll arrange some excuse to search Pettau¡¯s apartments next.¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± Morgulon said. ¡°I will. Yes.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything you would like me to do, Your Highness?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Anything you would like me to say to whoever Picot can gather for this ¡®war council¡¯?¡±


    George Louis shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ªI don¡¯t know what to tell you. Let me think about this.¡±


    He rubbed his face, looking distressed.


    ¡°Perhaps a general call to endure?¡± Lane suggested.


    ¡°For what, though?¡± he whispered. ¡°Who¡¯s going to¡­If we at least knew that David is alive and fighting¡­¡±


    ¡°You may have to endorse deVale,¡± Lane replied. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t be my first choice, either, but he is the one lord who we know is still fighting.¡±


    George Louis¡¯s gaze travelled around the room aimlessly, as if he were hoping to find the answer in the white sheets and strange tools of the doctors. He stopped at Morgulon, still struggling with the sheet of fabric.


    ¡°Remind them of the true enemy,¡± he said softly. ¡°Remind them of the Rot that has taken place in the heart of the Church and our homeland. Remind them that this is our one chance to renew the country. If they have any love left for Loegrion, they will fight for that. Even with the aid of werewolves.¡±


    He took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m not going to endorse anyone at this point in time. But tell them I¡¯d like them to have an open mind. They maybe won¡¯t have a duke to rally around, but there are many skilled commanders¡ªand soldiers¡ªin this country, regardless of rank. Or even gender,¡± he added, eyes closing.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Lane said.


    He gave the faintest wriggle or his fingers in response. Maybe it was time to get the doctor back in here.


    Morgulon turned wolf as soon as Lane turned to the door, following her back to the Grande Gallerie. It had always been an important location in the palace, but Lane still thought it was somewhat macabre how it had become the place to be now.


    Lord Mire was not excited to see her. His sons had somewhat recovered, just as the other patients, but the castle¡¯s steward hadn¡¯t left his wake by their side.


    ¡°Go away,¡± he grumbled at her. ¡°Picot already approached me. I¡¯m not interested in playing war council right now.¡±


    ¡°I understand that,¡± Lane said. ¡°I have little interest in Picot trying to secure power, either. However, I will make a first attempt during that meeting of unmasking the traitor.¡±


    The old man turned to look at her for the first time. ¡°You have a lead?¡±


    ¡°I have a theory,¡± Lane said. ¡°I think it¡¯s a good theory. And I have secured help to test it. If it turns out I¡¯m right, I believe I¡¯ll be able to challenge the traitor right then and there.¡±


    ¡°You think it¡¯s somebody Picot will invite.¡±


    ¡°He gave me his abbreviated guest list, and I think the person in question will be there, yes.¡±


    ¡°Can I have a hint?¡± Lord Mire asked.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to warn them,¡± Lane said. ¡°In fact, I hope you won¡¯t breathe a word of this to anyone else. But I thought you deserve to be there, if you¡¯d care to.¡±


    ¡°Who doesn¡¯t?¡± Lord Mire muttered, turning back to his sons. ¡°But I¡¯ll be there, yes.¡±


    Lane left him. She hoped she hadn¡¯t made a mistake just now, but she needed there to be at least one person whose word would be trusted everywhere.

 Chapter 174

    Lord Mire kept his mouth shut. Lane could tell, because nobody else asked her about what was going on, and Picot didn¡¯t rescind his invitation to her. He did show up to complain about why she had dragged the prince¡¯s governess into all of this¡ªapparently, he had been unsuccessful in separating her from her charge ever since.


    Lane wished she had time to shake hands with the woman.


    But she retreated back to the office, to let Mr. Grooch know what she was going to do, and to make sure Duke Stuard¡¯s special servants were ready, too. The offices of Pettau, deVries and Carter should be empty, so that would make their work easier, she hoped.


    The spy she spoke to nodded. ¡°Keep them busy for half an hour, and we''ll find whatever they¡¯re hiding. Picot will have to wait for another day.¡±


    ¡°We''ll take care of Picot,¡± Lane said. Morgulon turned invisible before the head spy could ask.


    ¡°That¡¯s useful to know,¡± he commented.


    It made Lane''s stomach cramp with worry, to spread Morgulon¡¯s secrets like that. But she couldn¡¯t stop now.


    While they discussed plans, Mrs. Ehricke had drummed up a simple dress for Morgulon. The elder wasn¡¯t thrilled, but put it on anyway. She¡¯d simply take up less space as a human.


    She listened in to the planning, too. When the spy left, she asked: ¡°What if. We don¡¯t.¡±


    She waved frustrated, glaring at Lane as if it was her fault she had to speak.


    ¡°What if we don¡¯t find anything?¡± Lane asked.


    Morgulon nodded abruptly.


    Lane took a deep breath. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said softly. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll confront Picot anyway. We have Greg¡¯s testimony and maybe more importantly, Bishop Larssen¡¯s. Just no proof that there¡¯s a connection between Vavre¡¯s missing jars and Picot.¡±


    ¡°Your word. Against him.¡±


    Lane nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what it will come down to,¡± she confirmed. ¡°The bishop is our best chance, at this point.¡±


    ¡°Talk. To him?¡±


    ¡°You think I should?¡±


    Morgulon just shrugged, which was typical, really. In fact, she had said more than she usually would.


    Maybe she should talk to Bishop Larssen.


    When she made for the door, Morgulon disappeared from sight. A moment later, Lane felt a tug at the back of her own dress. Morgulon held on with one hand, as Lane took a few steps to test how it felt. It was strange, and it took them walking down a couple of corridors to move together in step without tripping each other up. Doors were the hardest, but by the time they found Bishop Larssen at the infirmary, Morgulon had figured out how to duck through with Lane seamlessly.


    When they reached the infirmary, Morgulon became visible again. Larssen jumped, and so did the Royal Healer and Duke Stuard¡¯s physician.


    ¡°Do you have a minute, Monseigneur?¡± Lane asked. ¡°In private?¡±


    ***


    When Lane arrived with Morgulon at Picot¡¯s door at the agreed time, there were a couple of guards outside the door. However, when it opened, it was the marquess himself smiling at her, not a butler.


    ¡°Countess. I¡¯m glad you made it,¡± he claimed, stepping back to let her in. Lane felt Morgulon pressed against her back as she entered. She wondered what the werewolf¡¯s presence did to the shape of her skirts, but managed to stop herself from looking. There was already someone else approaching the door, and Picot never noticed.


    ¡°Marquess Rover,¡± Picot said. ¡°Welcome.¡±


    ¡°This better not be a waste of time again,¡± the young man complained. ¡°Lady deLande, my apologies.¡±


    ¡°Not at all, Marquess Rover,¡± Lane replied.


    She was proud that her voice didn¡¯t give away how her heart raced as she curtsied and Morgulon let go of her dress. Picot¡¯s salon was quite large, with three long couches forming a big U around the oversized fireplace. Little side tables had been set up with cakes and other sweets, tea and wine.


    Lane had no intention to touch any of it.


    Lord Mire was already stiffly sitting at one of the couches, his back to the wall. Pettau had claimed another couch. Lane curtsied towards them both. Was Pettau staring at her chest as she did? Not that there was much to see there. She still took the spot next to Mire¡ªjust in time to see the door to the next room move seemingly on its own.


    She glanced around the room quickly, but Picot and Rover were glaring at each other. She hadn¡¯t been paying attention to what Rover had said. Pettau¡ªyes, he was certainly staring at her chest.


    Lord Mire frowned at the door that gently closed again. If he thought the movement was odd, he didn¡¯t mention it.


    Count Levier appeared next, then Counts Carter and deVries. Commander Bacrot showed up, too, as did Michel deBurg, and then finally, Marian Desmarais, oldest daughter of the late duke, walked in, the prince by her side. He had Annabelle and a stern-looking woman dressed all in grey in tow. That had to be the governess. She remained standing behind her charge, who sat down between Marquess Rover and Michel deBurg.


    Picot remained standing, while Carter and Levier sat down with Pettau. Did that mean Levier was in on the plot?


    But she didn¡¯t have time to worry about that. Morgulon was in Picot¡¯s personal quarters. All she could do at this point was hope that the jars they were looking for weren¡¯t stashed underneath the couch she sat on.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for joining me here,¡± Picot was already opening the meeting. ¡°Important people aren¡¯t here, and I¡¯d like to express my deepest condolences again, Lady Desmarais. I know this is a trying time, and everyone here has other places to be. So I will make it short. We lost at Port Neaf. The army of the Valoise is landing as we speak. In a day or two, they will surely march towards Deva. Duke Stuard, for all he started this war, might not be alive to see them arrive here. So it falls to us, the remaining nobility of Loegrion, to make a decision on the future.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like you have a plan already,¡± Lord Mire said. ¡°So save us the theatrics. I certainly have a better place to be.¡±


    Picot looked from one face to the other, then bowed slightly to Mire. ¡°I propose we surrender,¡± he said. ¡°Plain and simply. Whatever terms the Roi Solei sets, they cannot be worse than what awaits us if we fight.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s exactly what the traitors want!¡± Rover burst out.


    ¡°No doubt it is,¡± Picot said. ¡°But what are our other options?¡±


    ¡°Well, for one, we should continue to search for the murderer,¡± Lane said. ¡°I think we owe that much to Duke Desmarais? The Roi Solei will hardly turn the poisoner over once we have surrendered.¡±


    ¡°So you would doom us all for revenge?¡± Pettau asked.


    ¡°I would,¡± Lord Mire said. ¡°And if it were your sons laying on the deathbed, Lord Pettau, I guarantee you would, too. Are there any news yet in that regard, Lady deLande?¡±


    ¡°Investigations are ongoing as we speak,¡± Lane said. ¡°As soon as there are results forthcoming, I will be sure to inform you all.¡±


    ¡°Investigations by whom?¡± Rover asked. ¡°And can we help?¡±


    ¡°Duke Stuard has lent me all his own guards and servants,¡± Lane said. She nodded towards Commander Bacrot. ¡°They are working with the City Watch and Palace Guard already. And the werewolves are helping to the best of their abilities.¡±


    ¡°The werewolves. How can the werewolves help in an investigation this delicate?¡± Pettau asked.


    Sweating, wasn¡¯t he? Lane smiled. ¡°They do have excellent noses.¡±


    Lord Mire stared at the door to the next room. Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut.


    ¡°All right¡ªfine. We continue looking for the traitor,¡± Picot said impatiently. ¡°But that one goal cannot take all our attention at this dire hour! At the very least, we should send a diplomat south! I believe the Levant himself was to land at our shores, surely he would be the first person we need to contact to start negotiations!¡±


    He was an excellent actor, Lane had to give it to him. The way he was wringing his hands, looking pleadingly at them all¡ªvery convincing. Maybe he truly was just scared. Maybe it was Pettau, after all, or deVries. Lane had paid little attention to the latter. When they had talked shortly after the Rot had invaded Deva, he hadn¡¯t made much of an impression on her. Just another yes-man, she had thought. Maybe he was in the Roi Solei¡¯s pocket?


    She had no idea.


    ¡°Is that your only advice, Lord Picot?¡± Lane asked, when nobody else said anything. ¡°Let¡¯s negotiate? Surrender? Duke Stuard asked me to remind you all of this: Think on why we are even fighting this war. If we cower before the Roi Solei today, we will be cowering before the Rot for the rest of our lives. Our children and children¡¯s children will be cowering before the Rot for all of their lives, too. Do we truly want to invite another High Inquisitor into our land, to murder people by the score and raise them as human sacrifices?¡±


    ¡°Even d¡¯Evier only did that when we started rebelling!¡± That came from Pettau, leaning forwards, glaring at her.


    ¡°That¡¯s a lie,¡± Lane said calmly. ¡°And you know that. D¡¯Evier¡¯s predecessor left us alone, but d¡¯Evier killed how many people along both the Savre and the White Torrent, to dump them into the river? A dozen? Two dozen? You cannot tell me that he didn¡¯t know it would strengthen the Rot in the rivers.¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe the next High Inquisitor¡ª¡±


    Both Marquess Rover and Lord Mire started laughing derisively before Lord Pettau even finished.


    ¡°Lord Pettau, you know the next High Inquisitor won¡¯t be any better,¡± Lane said calmly.


    ¡°But does that truly matter?¡± Lord Carter asked. ¡°Yes. The Rot is bad. I¡¯m not denying that. But are we really gaining anything if we allow a war to happen on our lands? If it is true that each and every battle field has the potential to grow a new Rot-queen, shouldn¡¯t we be doing everything in our power to prevent as many battles as we can? Lady deLande, I stand with Lord Picot because I love Loegrion too much to hand it over to the Rot or the werewolves.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Picot said. ¡°That is precisely my point. If we want to stop the Heartlands from looking like Mannin in a few months, we have to stop this madness!¡±


    Lane took a deep breath. ¡°At the very least, let us wait for Count deVale to get here, to see how many survivors he was able to rally. He¡¯ll be here before the Valoisian army. If we¡¯re going to throw away any chance at a free Loegrion, shouldn¡¯t we at least wait for the men who fought and gave their life for that dream, so they can weigh in on the decision?¡±


    ¡°But do we really want to wait until the warmongers are back?¡± Pettau asked. ¡°How will that help?¡±


    ¡°Calling your own son a warmonger?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Marquess, that¡¯s rich.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m with the Countess,¡± Commander Bacrot said. ¡°This is not a decision to rush into. We have not heard Count deVale directly. We don¡¯t even know what became of Marquess deBurg, or your son, for that matter, Lord Pettau. It will take the Valoise days to land a whole army, even with Port Neaf secured. We can wait a week.¡±


    ¡°I cannot imagine we¡¯ll learn anything in a week that¡¯s worth waiting for,¡± Levier said. ¡°I agree with Picot. If we start now, we can use that week to maybe argue more favourable terms. Once the army is standing at Deva¡¯s gates, what are we going to barter with?¡±


    DeVries was, unsurprisingly, with Pettau, Picot and Levier.


    Neither Lady Desmarais nor the young deBurg said anything at all. Prince George was sniffling softly. Lord Mire kept looking at Lane, clearly not interested in anything beyond her promise.


    Round and round the discussion went. Lane was keenly aware that all her arguments came down to ¡°let¡¯s not be cowards, let¡¯s not rush this, maybe some good news will come to us in a few days.¡± And those weren¡¯t good arguments while the Grande Armee was marching towards them. It was all she had though.


    Stolen story; please report.


    She couldn¡¯t tell them ¡°we can¡¯t hang the werewolves out to dry,¡± as much as she wanted to. It wouldn¡¯t matter to them. These men didn¡¯t stand with their backs against the wall quite the same way she did. Well, maybe Bacrot did. But the rest of them?


    They thought they might just save themselves even at the price of all the werewolves, and the damages that would do to all the people who didn¡¯t live in the safety of the heartlands.


    It didn¡¯t help that the Heartlands would be safer if they stopped the war. It was the rest of the country that would be screwed over if they allowed the Valoise to take power again. And the werewolves.


    She couldn¡¯t allow that.


    It was hard not to look over towards the door every few seconds. Nothing moved over there. Morgulon didn¡¯t show herself again.


    And Michel deBurg was slowly falling for Picot¡¯s ¡°let¡¯s save at least the Heartlands¡± pitch. Even while his own father might still be alive. Maybe she shouldn¡¯t blame him. He was even younger than Rover had been when the weight of his father¡¯s position had been dumped on his shoulders.


    ¡°So let¡¯s put it to a vote,¡± Lane said finally. ¡°At the Grande Gallerie. Lord Picot, you will present your side of the argument, and I¡¯ll present mine.¡±


    Picot looked surprised at that. ¡°I was about to suggest the same,¡± he said. ¡°You know you won¡¯t win that vote, milady?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Lane said grimly. ¡°But if I am to die, then I want all of Loegrion¡¯s nobility to judge me. Not this poor excuse for a war council.¡±


    Picot had the nerve to look shocked at her proclamation. ¡°You¡ªwhy would you¡­¡±


    Lane stood up, head held high. ¡°Oh please, Lord Picot, you cannot possibly be this naive. If Loegrion surrenders, the Roi Solei will demand scapegoats, to be burned at the stake at the very least, if not to follow the High Inquisitor into a watery grave. I will surely be one of them. So will my fiance and his family. Possibly Marquess deBurg, should he be still alive. Even Lady Ariana, should she by some miracle survive, is in danger. Do not lie to me about this, milords. You knew this the moment you suggested we surrender.¡±


    ¡°I would, of course, offer you my protection,¡± Picot said.


    How very generous of him. Lane rolled her eyes. ¡°As what, your adoptive daughter? I doubt that would be enough to stay the Roi Solei¡¯s hand, and I would much prefer to stand and die with my chosen family.¡±


    Would he offer to marry her? His own children were scarcely younger than she was, and his wife not dead that long.


    But he didn¡¯t say anything more at all.


    ¡°A vote then,¡± Pettau said, as if Lane hadn¡¯t spoken at all. ¡°I say, let¡¯s get it over with.¡±


    He rose, too, and one by one, everyone else followed. Lord Mire grabbed her hand before Lane could walk after Picot as he made for the door.


    ¡°You said¡ªyou promised¡ª¡± he hissed.


    ¡°I will levy the accusation at the Grande Gallerie,¡± Lane whispered back.


    They were the last to file out, and behind them, the door to the next room clicked. Lane held her breath, then felt Morgulon¡¯s hand on her arm as she walked out of Picot¡¯s chambers. She let herself fall behind a little, but couldn¡¯t shake Lord Mire, who was intend on her.


    ¡°Picot,¡± the werewolf whispered, unseen, after a few yards. ¡°No jars. But smelled. The killer. From the house.¡±


    ¡°What killer¡ª¡± Lane asked, trying to move her lips as little as possible. Her head was spinning. ¡°Wait, you mean, Vavre¡¯s killer?¡±


    ¡°That.¡±


    ¡°Can you follow that trail?¡± Lane whispered.


    ¡°Will.¡±


    Morgulon let go of her. After a few more steps, Lane glanced over her shoulder. There was the rush of displaced air, and then werewolf claws clicked past them.


    Lane lengthened her steps to catch up with the rest of the group before they turned suspicious.


    ***


    To Lane¡¯s endless relief, both Bishop Larssen and Greg were standing ready at the Grande Gallerie, joining her as soon as the group of lords entered. Warning them before the meeting had been a good idea of Morgulon¡¯s. Greg must have spread the word, because Laurent barked sharply before Picot could even open his mouth. Magic rippled across the Gallerie.


    Lane took a deep breath, folding her hands behind her back. In the sudden silence after the echo, her voice carried from one salon to the other.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, I accuse Marquess Picot of high treason! I also accuse him of the dastardly murder of Duke Desmarais, and the attempted murder of Duke Stuard. Furthermore, I accuse Marquess Picot of the insidious attempted murder of everyone else lying sick here. I accuse Marquess Pettau and Counts deVries and Carter of aiding and abetting him in the crime.¡±


    She took a deep breath to shout over the shocked voices all around: ¡°I call on Lord Gregory Feleke and Monseigneur, Bishop Larssen, as witnesses!¡±


    The counts were yelling something back at her that didn¡¯t fully register. Lane didn¡¯t even try to make out their words.


    She braced herself, and yelled: ¡°Marquess Picot, I call on Our Lord Mithras Himself as my witness! I challenge you to a Test of Faith!¡±


    She hadn¡¯t prayed properly in months, but in the sudden silence, she prayed with all her heart that Larssen was right. That she could. She would never even have dared something so presumptuous. But against Picot? She reckoned compared to his, her conscience was indeed clear, her soul pure.


    Pettau was the first to find his voice again. ¡°You can¡¯t do that! No woman can possibly pass that test! It¡¯s for priests only!¡±


    ¡°Blasphemy,¡± Bishop Larssen said calmly. ¡°Any man, or indeed, woman, can test their faith and be judged in front of our Lord. Any believer can present this challenge.¡±


    ¡°Unless, of course, Marquess Picot would rather prefer to explain to a human judge why he consorted with a spy of Rambouillet who had a specific interest in wild mushrooms,¡± Greg added.


    ¡°Lies!¡± Picot screeched. ¡°This is slander! Slander, lies and trickery! This is not why I agreed to come here!¡±


    He was looking around wildly, but the pent up fear of the past few days was turning to anger fast. The sick and their relatives wanted to see someone burn for this. They probably didn¡¯t care if it was Picot or Lane or anyone else.


    Lane gritted her teeth. Bishop Larssen had picked up the basin of coals which the healers used to burn their magical waste in, carrying it towards her. All eyes were on the old Bishop now. It was a well-known fact that he feared no fire, so he set down the brazier in the middle of the room.


    ¡°I invite the lords and ladies, and indeed the healers and servants present, to ascertain that this fire has not been tampered with,¡± he said, as he sat it down.


    ¡°Where is your proof!¡± Picot yelled, as people streamed forwards. Lord Mire was first, and then a grey-faced Imani followed. Several of the nurses. Sick people and healthy people got as close to the fire as they could bear.


    ¡°Where is your evidence?¡± Picot screamed, face turning white and whiter. ¡°You cannot just make a claim this outrageous and expect me to simply entertain this challenge!¡±


    ¡°I have no proof,¡± Lane admitted. ¡°Not yet. I do have the testimony of Bishop Larssen¡ª¡±


    ¡°And a werewolf!¡± Picot howled. ¡°A half-animal!¡±


    ¡°And Lord Gregory Feleke, yes,¡± Lane said. ¡°I also have the results of the investigation of Duke Stuard¡¯s own men, and the testimony of a second werewolf that places the killer of the spy in your office. Make no mistake¡ªin a week or two, I will have proof. We will have all the proof you could possibly ask for. But there are too many people in this room who do not have that much time. And they deserve to know why they suffer so.¡±


    Duke Stuard was the last to hold out his hands over the burning coals. He pulled it back without another word, but remained standing next to the brazier.


    Lane moved to join the duke. Her hands itched, already wet with cold sweat.


    ¡°You¡¯re mad, you know that?¡± Duke Stuard muttered.


    It hadn¡¯t even been her idea. Larssen had proposed this solution in case Morgulon couldn¡¯t produce solid proof of Picot¡¯s treachery. But it had to be her.


    And if there was one thing she had faith in right now, it was Picot¡¯s guilt.


    ¡°Lord Picot, do you forfeit this challenge?¡± Duke Stuard asked. ¡°Do you confess the murder?¡±


    The duke looked bad, like he could barely keep himself upright. All he wore was a nightgown with a dressing robe and felt slippers. But the mere fact that he had dragged himself out of bed for this lent the challenge weight.


    ¡°I confess nothing,¡± Picot growled. He looked around the room wide eyed, and finally stepped forwards. He glared at the duke, then addressed Larssen: ¡°So tell me, Monseigneur, how do I prove my innocence in this madness?¡±


    ¡°Pray with me to Lord Mithras,¡± Larssen said. ¡°And reach into the flame. If your heart is pure, you have nothing to fear. Hold up a piece of burning coal as the unmistakable sign that Lord Mithras smiles on you. As the challenged party, it¡¯s your choice if you want to go first or leave it to Lady deLande. It will not make a difference either way.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying that even if she bursts into flame¡ª¡±


    ¡°Her guilt has no mark on your innocence,¡± Bishop Larssen said calmly. ¡°Are you ready, milady?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Well then.¡± Bishop Larssen kneeled. ¡°Lord Mithras, Lord of Flame, we have gathered together here today for your judgement. Judgement of character. Judgement of heart. Judgement of the truth of the allegations levied against Marquess Picot by Countess Lane deLande¡­¡±


    Lane didn¡¯t hear the rest of it. The words didn¡¯t matter. He would continue to ask for judgement in different words until she made her move. It would only get harder the longer she waited, especially if she let him get to the part of what would happen to her soul should she be wrong in her accusation.


    She had seen this ritual as a very small child, had seen people chicken out at the last minute¡ªbut she wouldn¡¯t. The flames licked against her hands, hot and soft and sharp at the same time. She wished Larssen hadn¡¯t mentioned the judgement of her character. That, she wasn¡¯t sure about at all.


    But she was certain of Picot¡¯s guilt. If nothing else, she trusted in Morgulon¡¯s nose. In Greg¡¯s words. In her own two eyes.


    A drop of sweat fell into the fire, sending up a shower of sparks against her dress¡¯s sleeves. Flames licked up her arms. Was this what Morgulon had gone through when the circus burned down around her?


    But no. The flames didn¡¯t consume her. They were hot, and they hurt, but they were hot in the same way sand in the summer was hot, stinging underfoot without actually doing harm. She had endured far worse.


    When her hands closed around a lump of coal, she couldn¡¯t hold back a smile. She looked up at Picot and raised the coals high over her head¡ªhate contorted his face. He leaned forwards to stare into the brazier, flinching back when another series of sparks erupted towards his face.


    ¡°Well played, milady,¡± he finally whispered, whipping out a blade, grabbing her. She tried to dump the lump of coal into his face, but he ducked away, the blade on her neck never wavering.


    ¡°I am leaving,¡± he announced to the room. ¡°May you all rot in hell! She¡¯ll go there first, if you try to stop me!¡±


    But he had hesitated too long. Lord Mire had pulled out a pistol, pointing it at Picot. It was the only part of him that wasn¡¯t shaking madly with rage. Lane tried to free herself, to get away from Picot, but the Marquess pulled her closer, holding her right in front of his own body.


    ¡°Explain yourself, Picot,¡± Lord Mire demanded. ¡°Explain this, or Mithras help me, I¡¯ll judge you on the spot!¡±


    Duke Stuard was already pulling his son out of the way, pushing him behind Annabelle. Lane approved of that. She very much wanted to hide behind a werewolf, too. Greg was too far away though, and Morgulon was nowhere in sight.


    Lord Mire¡¯s gun never left her face.


    ¡°Mithras help me, I¡¯ll shoot you both, Picot,¡± the stewart said softly. ¡°Tell me if you poisoned my sons. No, tell me why! And who else was in on this?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Picot snarled. ¡°There¡¯s a bloody pack of werewolves standing on the Grande Gallerie, and you have the nerve to ask me why? There is a woman in this room, thinking it¡¯s her place to make decisions about the future of the whole country, and you have the nerve to ask me why? Commoners are taking land¡ªwomen run around in men¡¯s trousers¡ªand you dare ask me why?¡±


    ¡°I want to see the rest of them take this challenge,¡± Lord Mire said, as if Picot hadn¡¯t spoken at all. ¡°Bishop Larssen, I want the rest of them to face that flame!¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± Pettau said. Before anyone could stop him, he pulled out his own pistol, taking a couple of steps to gain a clear aim and firing at Lord Mire, twice. The prince screamed. So did Morgulon, turning visible right between Lord Mire and Pettau. There was a hole in her chest and blood on Lord Mire¡¯s vest.


    ¡°Idiot,¡± Morgulon snarled. Her body flowed apart into her wolf shape, and then back into her human body. The bullets fell to the ground with a clink.


    ¡°Learn. Something,¡± she growled. ¡°Stupid coward.¡±


    The hole in her chest was gone.


    Silence fell at that. Lane thought Picot¡¯s blade at her throat was suddenly a lot less steady. Pettau had wasted his shots, and outside, she heard guards running.


    ¡°Drop the blade, Picot,¡± Mire ordered. ¡°You¡¯re done.¡±


    ¡°Anyone moves, and I kill her,¡± Picot said. ¡°That includes you, bitch!¡± he growled.


    Morgulon had turned invisible again.


    ¡°If you kill me, she¡¯ll just rip you to pieces,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Show yourself!¡± Picot howled.


    Morgulon did: Just a fraction of a second before her teeth closed around Picot¡¯s arm, she became visible again. She ripped him off Lane, riding him down to the ground, smashing his head against the tiles.


    Snarling, teeth bared, she turned around, body shielding Lane and blocking her view at the same time.


    When Lane stepped out of Morgulon¡¯s shadow, the remaining traitors were frozen between Lord Mire¡¯s pistol and Morgulon¡¯s teeth.


    Very slowly, Lord Carter raised his hands, looking from face to face.¡°I swear, I had nothing to do with this. I did not poison anyone. I did not help anyone do so.¡±


    ¡°Then surely, you won¡¯t mind taking Lady deLande¡¯s challenge?¡± Lord Mire asked.


    As all eyes turned back to her, Lane felt at her throat, at the thin cut there. At least it didn¡¯t feel like Picot¡¯s knife had been poisoned. He groaned behind her.


    She rolled her shoulders and stepped back towards the brazier. ¡°I am ready, Count Carter, Count deVries?¡±


    Behind them, the palace guard was storming in. Carter glanced at them, then took a step forwards, towards the fire bowl.


    ¡°I confess, I backed Picot on the issue of surrender,¡± Carter said, sweating hard. His gaze darted back and forth between her and Bishop Larssen. ¡°But I swear to Mithras I did not know he was in cahoots with the enemy. And I was not involved in planning the poisoning. I can¡ªmy conscience is pure in that regard.¡±


    When Lane nodded to him, Bishop Larssen took up his sermon again.


    Lane didn¡¯t hesitate this time, reaching down for the coals without breaking eye-contact with Carter. ¡°You were at the casino the same night a Mr. Vavre, accountant here at the palace, talked to Picot,¡± she said. ¡°You must have seen him. A slightly heavy set man, wearing a dark robe, entering the casino to talk to Picot briefly, before leaving again.¡±


    When Carter just stared at the coal in her hands, looking dazed, she added: ¡°A few minutes later, Lord Gregory Feleke joined you for a game of hazards. Do you recall the night I¡¯m talking about?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI do,¡± Carter finally said. He swallowed hard, reaching out towards the fire. He flinched, briefly, at the heat, but persisted. ¡°I know the man you mean. I did not know his name though. He reported to Picot often at the casino. I believe it was him who first started the rumour that your husband cheated in the lynx hunt¡ªbut it was all just gossip. I saw no harm in it.¡±


    ¡°And a duel to the finish didn¡¯t change your mind?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would go that far!¡± Carter claimed. His face was contorted in pain, but he didn¡¯t pull his hands out of the brazier, either. ¡°Picot¡ªhe helped me facilitate contact with another hunter, I thought that would settle the matter! I didn¡¯t think¡­¡±


    His fingers closed around a small piece of coal, which broke apart in his hands. ¡°I didn¡¯t think, did I?¡± he asked. ¡°I never would have believed someone would resort to poison.¡±


    He pulled up his hand, the broken piece of coal clutched in his fingers, which caused a soft cheer from the onlookers. DeVries sneered as palace guards shackled his hands on his back, following after Pettau and Picot.


    And then it was over.


    ¡°Thank you, Lord Mithras, for your judgement,¡± Bishop Larssen finished.


    Lane bowed her head, rubbing her hands together. She couldn¡¯t quite believe that she had really done it, that Mithras hadn¡¯t struck her down for even daring to call on him.


    She almost wished her father could see her right now.


    He¡¯d probably accuse her of cheating the Lord Mithras Himself.

 Chapter 175

    Lane watched with Duke George Louis as the palace guard took away Marquesses Picot and Pettau, and Count deVries, who tucked his hands underneath his armpits until the guards manacled him, as if he were afraid somebody would press his hand into the brazier. Lord Mire watched, too, with Lord Feleke¡¯s hand resting heavily on his shoulder. Nathan, likewise, was held back by Andrew.


    They still had to question the traitors, find their co-conspirators. Find out who their link into the kitchen had been. Vavre¡¯s killer. How¡ªor if¡ªthey had contact to Rambouillet.


    Once they were taken away, Duke Stuard clapped his hands weakly. Morgulon turned around to him, barking once, just like Laurent had earlier.


    ¡°Thank you, Morgulon,¡± the duke said gravely. ¡°I will return to the infirmary now. I leave the affairs of Loegrion in Countess deLande¡¯s capable hands. Perhaps, some of the favour of Mithras shining on her will fall on the rest of us, too.¡±


    He took several deep breaths, as if he were already tired from those few lines. ¡°I trust in Bishop Larssen, Lord Mire, and Lord Feleke to back her. In fact, I hope all of you will back her in the trying times ahead.


    ¡°Make no mistake,¡± he added. ¡°The Roi Solei was behind this attack.¡±


    He looked around the hall again, then shook his head. ¡°May Mithras be with us,¡± he finished.


    There was no applause, just a deep silence as the duke slowly turned away. Moving stiffly, he made his way towards the exit, his son on one side, Annabelle on his other. Despite his careful pace, he stumbled before he was halfway across. He would have fallen straight on his face if Annabelle hadn¡¯t crouched down in front of him, steadying him with her shoulder until one of the nurses had run over to help.


    Lane slowly let go of the breath she hadn¡¯t realised she¡¯d been holding. She couldn¡¯t bring herself to look away until the duke had safely left.


    She was still unseeingly staring at the closed door when a guard got her attention.


    ¡°Which cells should we take Lord Picot to?¡± he wanted to know.


    Right. Back to work.


    ¡°There should be free cells at the werewolf dungeon,¡± Lane said. Picot would hate that. ¡°Just put him there. There¡¯s nothing to worry about, though, not until full moon.¡±


    She craned her neck until she spotted Commander Bacrot.


    She¡¯d need his help in the ongoing investigations. Picot and Pettau had been rather helpful in trying to shoot their way out¡ªnobody would demand proof of their treachery for a while. It had bought them time, but they still needed to hurry.


    Lane patted Morgulon¡¯s shoulder, and the she-wolf followed her promptly. ¡°You followed the trail of Vavre¡¯s killer?¡± Lane asked. ¡°Would you show Greg and a few guards?¡±


    Lane ended up tagging along, too, as Morgulon led the way to an office door. It turned out to belong to Picot¡¯s personal secretary.


    The guards made short work of the door lock, revealing an upturned room and documents smouldering in an overstuffed fireplace. The secretary was nowhere in sight.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find him,¡± the guards promised even as they jumped to save as much of the documents as possible.


    Lane left them to it and returned to the Gallerie with Morgulon. The mood there was tense¡ªword had already spread that Count Levier had backed the traitor¡¯s suggestion of surrender, and as soon as Lane entered, a distraught Lady Ferris wanted to know why the count wasn¡¯ being arrested, too. Young Rover was unhelpfully railing against Levier.


    ¡°We cannot arrest everyone who fears the coming war,¡± Lane said, in what she hoped was a gracious tone. ¡°Should any actual evidence against him surface during the investigation, we will of course take steps.¡±


    Morgulon behind her huffed and went to check on her cubs, looked after by Thoko in her absence. She settled down for them to nurse.


    Lane turned back to Lady Ferris to inquire about the health of her husband and daughter.


    Neither was doing well. After three days of fighting against the poison, many healers were reaching the limit of their magic. Bishop Larssen was just sitting down next to the nest of werewolves, and he wasn¡¯t the only healer drifting over to bask in the power of the elder. Even Pierre didn¡¯t seem to have as much to offer them as Morgulon.


    Lady Ferris glared at the gathering of healers, her lips pressed together to a thin white line. She shook her head at the sight, but then turned to Lane to ask: ¡°Shouldn¡¯t the little ones have¡ªsomething to play with? It must be bleak, to grow up amidst all this death.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re very young,¡± Lane said. ¡°They¡¯re not playing much yet.¡±


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    ¡°Still. A rattle, perhaps.¡± Lady Ferris looked over again. ¡°I¡¯ll have the servants bring something.¡±


    And then she glanced back at her daughter, sleeping the unnatural sleep of the sick, a hand resting on her swollen belly.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Lane said. Was there anything else to say? Any comfort to offer?


    But no words came to her.


    She had almost turned away, when Lady Ferris spoke again: ¡°Lady deLande? Will you¡ªpray for them?¡±


    At least that was easy to answer. ¡°I will include your family in my prayers, yes,¡± Lane promised.


    It was a plea repeated over and over as she made her round. They had seen her reach into fire and come away unburned. And Mithras was their last hope.


    Nobody was dying just yet, and most patients were still lucid enough to grasp what was going on. However, in this war of attrition, the healers were running out of powder faster than the insidious death Picot had unleashed.


    One of the beds Lane stopped next to had a patient who wouldn¡¯t stop bleeding. The cut was small, but it would not close, drenching the bandages and then the sheets even at a trickle. Other patients were feverish, their limbs swollen, their eyes turning yellow.


    It was when they couldn¡¯t stay awake that death was lurking around the corner, the doctors said. They were still around, even if they couldn¡¯t do more than ease some pains. They had more knowledge in reading the symptoms than the healers, which was important since there were some very few people who were in better states and might not need the healers¡¯ help at all.


    Usually, they still got some attention from the healers. Simply because they were still suffering.


    Lane silently thanked Picot for pushing to have everyone stay together at the palace. He had probably meant to keep better control of the situation. Now it meant no family with the gold to spend could drag half of the healers to some chateau and leave everyone else to die. Bishop Larssen had put his foot down and stopped the inevitable bribes before that had really taken off.


    Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t mean that the healers stretched themselves so thin trying to save everyone that they didn¡¯t save anyone.


    Hopefully, Morgulon could prevent that.


    But why weren¡¯t the healers gathering around Pierre the same way? Morgulon couldn¡¯t be that much more powerful, could she? She was a few years younger, after all¡ªeven if she had been born a werewolf, could it make that much of a difference?


    Something was going on here, wasn¡¯t it?


    But before Lane could follow up on the thought, something wiped it from her mind: A soldier¡ªa young lieutenant¡ªwas walked onto the Gallerie by a guardsman of the city guard.


    ¡°Message from Count deVale,¡± the soldier announced, looking past Lane around the Gallerie. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to report to whomever is in charge?¡±


    ¡°That would be me,¡± Lane said. It felt weird to say it. She expected the soldier to scoff at her or to challenge her, but while he kept looking around, he didn¡¯t argue the point.


    Lord Feleke was walking over, and Commander Bacrot was just jogging through the doors, so Lane waited for them before she prompted the soldier again: ¡°Is Count deVale on his way? How many troops does he have?¡±


    The soldier snapped a quick salute at Commander Bacrot, but then he did turn back to Lane, shaking his head. ¡°The Major is still gathering the scattered men. He wants to wait until full moon, to see¡ªwell, to see.¡±


    ¡°Does he have a place to wait out the full moon?¡± Lane asked.


    The young soldier nodded. ¡°He¡¯s preparing. But I have good news, too: Scouts have been able to confirm that Lords deBurg, Pettau the younger, and Lord Relentless have been captured by the Valoise. They¡¯re alive.¡±


    ¡°Pettau the younger,¡± Lane repeated. ¡°He¡¯s been taken prisoner, too?¡±


    ¡°He shares a cage with Marquess deBurg and Lord Relentless. They¡¯re being held in one of the werewolf cages. Is his father¡ª? We had news that¡­¡±


    He looked around the Gallerie again. ¡°What happened here? I¡¯m to report that back.¡±


    Lane glanced at Commander Bacrot and Baron Feleke.


    ¡°I believe a written report is in order,¡± Commander Bacrot said. ¡°A lot has been going on here.¡±


    ¡°Where is Duke Stuard?¡± the soldier asked. ¡°And Duke Desmarais?¡±


    ¡°Duke Desmarais is dead,¡± Lane said. ¡°Duke Stuard will be eager to hear your news. I believe it¡¯s best if you tell him in person, to see the whole of the situation.¡±


    The soldier gaped at her, but followed her promptly. ¡°What happened here?¡± he asked again as they walked past the rows and rows of sickbeds.


    ¡°Lords Picot, Pettau and deVries conspired with Rambouillet, poisoning the food at the entertainment at the eve of the battle with death cap mushrooms. Have you served under the younger Lord Pettau?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªno, milady. I¡¯m of Count deVale¡¯s own forces. I haven¡¯t seen any sign that there was treachery from our own commanders, though. Lord Pettau has served with distinction throughout the siege.¡±


    Lane nodded to show that she had heard. Interesting. She was curious to see what Picot¡¯s and Pettau¡¯s own families would say of the treachery. They¡¯d be questioned as soon as they had been rounded up.


    She was curious to see how that would go. Hadn¡¯t Greg said that Pettau had been flirting with a strange woman at the casino? Maybe the family truly was divided on the best way forwards?


    She knocked against the door of the infirmary. A nurse poked her head outside, face grim. ¡°News from the front,¡± Lane said, loud enough to be heard inside, before the nun could try to send her away.


    She barely made out George Louis¡¯s order to let them in.


    ¡°Tell me you have good news,¡± the duke rasped, struggling to sit up as they came in.


    ¡°Some,¡± Lane said. ¡°Lords deBurg and Feleke have been captured by the enemy alive. As has been Lord Pettau the younger.¡±


    George Louis gave up on trying to sit and let his head fall back. ¡°Has there been a ransom note? They are officers. Are they being treated accordingly?¡±


    The lieutenant shook his head. ¡°No ransom demand had reached Lord deVale as of this morning, when I was sent to inform you. There has been no contact at all from the Valoise, except for some pamphlets calling us to surrender, thrown from an airship. The enemy has locked our men, officers and soldiers alike, but does not appear to be taking any measures against the moon phase, either, which is why Lord deVale intends to wait and see how they will fare.¡±


    ¡°Our own captured lords appear to be quite safe,¡± Lane added quickly, as all colour left the duke¡¯s face.


    ¡°How so?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The Valoise have locked our prisoners into the cages set up for the werewolves,¡± the lieutenant explained. ¡°Our scouts weren¡¯t able to tell if they fear they might transform, or if it¡¯s simply a form of insult.¡±


    ¡°The cages will keep a werewolf out just as they keep them in?¡± the duke asked.


    ¡°They will, Your Highness,¡± Lane confirmed.


    He closed his eyes. ¡°So there is hope yet,¡± he whispered. He turned his head away, muttering something else. Lane thought it was, ¡°I just want to see him again,¡± and she really hoped nobody else had caught that.


    She glanced over her shoulder. Monroe was helping out the Royal Healer. One of the elders Lee had found. Not somebody she knew anything about.


    Great.

 Chapter 176

    Lord Picot tried to kill himself as soon as he woke up in his cell, screaming to high heaven about how he refused to turn into a monster. Nobody knew how he had gotten the little knife he used¡ªthe guards at the werewolf prison were quick to subdue him again, so it probably hadn¡¯t been them.


    He made a second attempt during the night, using his chains. Maybe he thought if he killed himself before the full moon, he wouldn¡¯t lose his soul, or something. Greg rubbed his own chest. He tried to tell himself that it didn¡¯t matter, that souls didn¡¯t exist, anyway. That it was all just superstition, but it was hard to keep his wits together in the face of Picot¡¯s hatred, no longer hidden by the amicable facade.


    Picot had been one of the first nobles to ever talk to him, after his affliction had become public. And he had known, even at that day at Breachpoint, that it was probably all an act. It still hurt to be faced with the reality of that mask coming down.


    It made him all the more glad the guards had managed to stop Picot before he could actually hurt himself. It would be too easy, for him to simply die. He needed to be judged and sentenced, and not on his own terms.


    Nathan spit at the ground in front of Picot¡¯s cell. ¡°What do you reckon it¡¯s going to be?¡± he asked loudly. ¡°Burning or hanging?¡±


    ¡°Might be worth leaving him alive,¡± Greg said. ¡°I wonder if Morgulon can make him talk, once full moon is over.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t hurt to try,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Personally, I¡¯m in favour of hanging,¡± he added. ¡°And then we cut him to bits. Werewolves won¡¯t eat him, but maybe pigs will? If he¡¯s not so poisoned inside that he turns to Rot right away.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a waste of a perfectly nice pig,¡± a voice behind them said. Lane had arrived, with Morgulon in tow: they were expecting the press in a moment, to ensure as much of truth as possible was published.


    Lane had dressed up for the occasion, but in a mourning gown: dark grey, with just a hint of purple in the colour.


    Picot had retreated to the back of his cell, so that the other unsettled werewolves currently held here couldn¡¯t try to spit on him across the corridor. They were growling in their own cages. At Lane¡¯s appearance, Picot came back to the bars. ¡°Came to gloat?¡± he sneered. ¡°Your fiance will still be dead before me. Unless you want to do me the favour of killing me before the full moon. Save my soul as you do.¡±


    Lane smiled sweetly at him. ¡°Keep clinging to that thought. Murderers go to hell, and so do cowards.¡±


    Picot sniffed. ¡°Still better than becoming a mons¡ª¡±


    Morgulon growled.


    Picot¡¯s voice cut off abruptly, his jaws slack, tongue hanging out.


    Nathan sniggered. ¡°Too late, bastard. Too late. The wolf inside you already recognizes its elders and betters. Die mad about it.¡±


    Picot¡¯s eyes went wider and wider, and he stumbled backwards¡ªbreathing, but unable to move his jaw.


    ¡°Thank you, Morgulon,¡± Lane said, grinning.


    ¡°Could you make him talk?¡± Greg asked. ¡°After full moon, perhaps? Make him tell us who worked for him, I mean.¡±


    I can make him talk. Can¡¯t make him say the truth.


    ¡°Right. Shame,¡± Greg muttered. He had to translate her answer for Nathan and Lane then.


    ¡°So no point in keeping him alive,¡± Nathan commented.


    Lane based her chin in her hand thoughtfully. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s still worth trying to get him to talk. Who knows what contacts he has. And if not, we can always wait for David to get here and deal with him.¡±


    Greg thought that was very optimistic of her. Or maybe she was only putting on a brave face.


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    ¡°Hah. I think he¡¯ll be happy to die from a Lady¡¯s hands,¡± Nathan said. ¡°Especially from a holy lady.¡±


    Picot just managed an unintelligible sound. It put a smile on the Greg¡¯s face. On Lane¡¯s and Nathan¡¯s, too, though it was quickly replaced by a grimace. ¡°I¡¯ll be upstairs, greeting the press,¡± she said.


    Greg shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll wait here.¡±


    He watched Nathan and Lane climb the stairs. They¡¯d take the journalists down here to meet the newest werewolf in the cells.


    As soon as the heavy door to the dungeon closed behind Morgulon, Picot regained control of himself.


    ¡°Bitch,¡± he cursed after her, while the other prisoners jeered. What looked like an ancient piece of bread flew just past Greg¡¯s ear, thrown by one of the other prisoners.


    ¡°That¡¯s the best you can do?¡± Greg asked, as Picot retreated further back into his cell. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯s heard way worse.¡±


    Picot glared at him, but he couldn¡¯t hide how shaken he was after the encounter with the elder. Greg almost felt for him. He¡¯d been a werewolf for a year before he¡¯d met Bernadette. And he¡¯d never faced Morgulon¡¯s ire.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Picot hissed when Greg didn¡¯t move. ¡°Get lost!¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°The press will be here in a moment to make sure they get a good likeness of you. No point in going back upstairs again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a marquess,¡± Picot growled. ¡°I¡¯m Lord Warden of Breachpoint. You have no right to treat me like some kind of circus animal!¡±


    Greg laughed. ¡°You¡¯re a traitor and a werewolf,¡± he corrected. ¡°The circus is way beyond what you can hope for at this point. They¡¯ll take your picture¡ªor have one drawn. They¡¯ll write down all your crimes. Pettau¡¯s and deVries¡¯s, too. The order to strip all three of you of your rank and declare you enemy of Loegrion will be published, too. There¡¯ll be pictures of some of your victims, too, both the most popular nobles lying sick and the kitchen workers who were poisoned accidentally as they prepared the food. We¡¯ll raise another army thanks to you. And then we¡¯ll hang you and cut you to pieces, or something.¡±


    ¡°Better be quick then. I¡¯ve got the Roi Solei¡¯s word that his men will do everything in their power to save me.¡±


    ¡°Well, thanks for the warning,¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t think the Roi Solei¡¯s word is worth spitting on, but thanks for the warning all the same.¡±


    Picot stared at him, dark eyes glinting hateful in the shine of the torches. ¡°You¡¯ll never beat the Grande Arme¨¦.¡±


    Greg shrugged again. ¡°Maybe we already have.¡±


    ¡°No, you haven¡¯t. I know the plan. I know exactly what happened at Port Neaf. You haven¡¯t beaten¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do you know how many hunters it takes to take down six werewolves?¡± Greg interrupted him. ¡°Men who know where the werewolves are, have a strategy, and know what they¡¯re up against? Do you have any idea how many people in Port Neaf were bitten? Or how many of the thousand David took down there survived? How many troops are the Valoise landing, ten thousand? Twenty? You think that foot soldiers have a chance in hell against a werewolf? Fifty men on foot couldn¡¯t take down two of our elders!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯ll be sixty thousand men of the Grande Arm¨¦es best marching against Deva soon!¡± Picot howled. ¡°You think a few hundred werewolves could stop that? You really think so?¡±


    Greg smiled smugly. No, he didn¡¯t really think that. But it was good to have a number. Even if the number was bigger than they had hoped for.


    ¡°They¡¯ll reinforce if necessary,¡± Picot added. ¡°And they know what they¡¯re up against. They¡¯ll have silver, and alchemy to deal with the Rot.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t even know that Morgulon can turn invisible,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°There¡¯s no way these soldiers know what they¡¯re up against.¡±


    ¡°And who¡¯s going to lead them?¡± Picot asked. ¡°Your brother is a prisoner. The duke will be dead, soon. Will you follow a woman? Be ruled by a queen? A werewolf queen perhaps? You really think that the men of Loegrion would ever rally around such a crown?¡±


    Greg was saved from having to answer that by the footsteps echoing on the stairs. Lane and Nathan had arrived with the press. Picot snuffled as if to spit at them, but Morgulon¡¯s glare quelled the movement, and Picot ended up choking instead, coughing violently.


    ¡°Nice try,¡± Lane muttered and stepped aside for the press to get a closer look. ¡°Here he is,¡± she said, louder. ¡°The traitor who¡¯d see us all dead.¡±


    ¡°Can we ask him questions?¡± one of the journalists asked.


    ¡°Feel free,¡± Lane said, stepping aside even further. ¡°Be careful though. He¡¯s rather unpredictable. Don¡¯t let him grab you.¡±


    Picot didn¡¯t look particularly impressive, still coughing, barely able to glare at the press, but they all kept their distance as Lane had said. Maybe David spooking them had done something good after all.


    Not that Picot would be able to do much with Morgulon in the room.


    Not that he could do much at all. He couldn¡¯t even transform yet. Would never learn to do so at will.


    Picot would die before the Valoise got to Deva. Even if they all died right after.


    It was only faint comfort to Greg while his mother and all the other sick got weaker by the hour.


    But it was nice to speak to Mr. Higgins once the interview was over. The teacher was shocked to hear about Imani¡¯s affliction. He had little comfort to give, either. His mother¡¯s¡ªeveryone¡¯s¡ªbest hope lay in the werewolves¡¯ magic now. And Greg didn¡¯t feel magical at all right now.

 Chapter 177

    On the fourth day of their invasion, the Valoise were still landing troops and unloading supplies. David had recovered enough by then to sit upright and watch the endless rows of people, pack animals, and carts. The latter came out of what remained of Port Neaf loaded, and went back empty, turn after turn.


    Did the pisscoats think there was no food on Loegrion?


    Or maybe the food wans¡¯t good enough?


    Or maybe he just had no idea how much an army like this ate. How many horses had the Valoise shipped across the sea, anyway?


    ¡°One for each cavalryman,¡± de Burg said wrily. ¡°Plus officers, plus reserves.¡± The Marquess craned his neck. ¡°They¡¯ll be building a whole depot here, I reckon.¡±


    The sappers were certainly busy building something, though David didn¡¯t think it was a depot. He thought it looked more like stakes.


    He glanced around uneasily at the other cages in sight. He¡¯d been somewhat lucky that the Valoise had put him into a cage with just two others¡ªprobably preferential treatment in the light of their nobility. The rest of the cages were stuffed with as many Loegrians as would fit. Many of them were healers, doctors and their helpers, also the injured soldiers who had been sent back to camp. Basically, all the people who hadn¡¯t fought back when the camp had been taken.


    It didn¡¯t look like a whole lot of Loegrian soldiers had surrendered while they¡¯d still been able to fight, so there were also a lot of dead bodies amongst the cages.


    In the very next cage, Fleur was covering awkwardly between the healers she¡¯d been protecting from the Rot during the fight. They were giving her as much room as possible, but hadn¡¯t pointed her out to the Valoise yet.


    A few cages further away, there was Bernadette, still recovering from her injuries, surrounded by off-duty pisscoats gaping at her though the bars.


    Waiting for the spectacle, weren¡¯t they? First night was the one after tonight.


    The Valoise were still not making any effort to find newly bitten werewolves amongst their own injured men, as far as David could tell. Nor had he seen any sign that Port Neaf¡¯s civilans were being tested, and even given the distance, there should be some? Considering the city¡¯s size, the sheer manpower to clear everyone out, and then the silver needed to do even a cursory check of the people as they filed back into the city should raise a fuss in camp?


    That was how werewolf hunters on Loegrion used to do it, at least. Make everyone leave the affected village, check them over as they return through the gates.


    Provided of course that the village still had working gates.


    Though, really, any line would do. As long as you could keep all the people in sight and stop them from sneaking away or hiding injuries¡­


    Maybe the Valoise thought Port Neaf was just too big to bother.


    David shuddered at the thought. If there just ten people in the city who had gotten bitten and survived¡ªthat would be worse than the hunt that had started all this. And then they¡¯d transform in the middle of the city three days from now, biting even more people. Even if each just left three victims alive, that was thirty werewolves in another month, and from then on out, the problem just got worse and worse.


    And he had told the werewolves to leave the cavalrymen alive that had attacked the wagon trail on the way here.


    He tried not to do the calculation in his head, but he just kept running it with different base numbers. Even if Loegrion somehow managed to win this war, and push back against the invasion, they¡¯d still pay for this for generations.


    Not that he thought they could win, considering the mass of soldiers all around. Grenadiers, and fusiliers, cavalrymen of different kinds and mariners, even some Imperial Guards, easily recognisable by their bearskin hats. Chasseurs with silver adorned hats and epaulettes that made the werewolves flinch if they came too close.


    Men from all corners of the Empire, by the look of it.


    And more artillery than David had ever seen in his life.


    ¡°How many soldiers do you think they¡¯ve landed so far?¡± he asked, turning to de Burg.


    The Marquess looked around glumly. ¡°It seems to me like they¡¯re bringing over at least one whole Corps d''arm¨¦e</a>, possible two. As befitting a Levant of the Empire,¡± he added. ¡°I had just hoped they wouldn¡¯t go all out for us.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°Then again, Loegrion is too a large colony to hold onto with a single division, even with their allies in the south. And with the prince here¡­¡±


    He shook his head.


    Right. The Levant couldn¡¯t afford anything but a victory. So he¡¯d bring as many troops as he could.


    How many had the rebels in the south raised?


    ¡°Speaking of the devil,¡± de Burg grumbled.


    A group of people was walking down the path along the cages: Imperial Guards up front, and more in the back. Between them walked a boy in an oversized ermine cloak, followed by two servants who had to hold up the precious furs so they wouldn¡¯t drag in the mud of the camp¡¯s unpaved walkways.


    Was that really the crown prince? He looked younger than Greg!


    Not that that cloak helped. It did nothing for his posture, making him walk hunched-over rather than striding along regally. Was it just that white-blond hair, or was he too young too even shave?


    But he did wear a circlet on his head, so it probably really was the prince.


    Next to him walked a much older man, wearing the elaborate midnight blue uniform of a Valoisian marshall, easily recognisable by the white feathers on his hat.


    ¡°I reckon that¡¯s the one really commanding all these troops?¡± David asked.


    ¡°One of them,¡± de Burg said darkly. ¡°He was doing the rounds with a different marshall before.¡±


    Sometime when David hadn¡¯t been fully conscious, presumably.


    ¡°You don¡¯t remember?¡± Lord Pettau asked. ¡°He commented on your new companion.¡±


    He glanced towards Alvin¡¯s ghost, curled up in a corner of the cage.


    David shook his head. He was vaguely aware that there had been people standing around the cage several times, commenting on the apparition, but he hadn¡¯t really be present enough to remember faces or uniforms. Mostly, he had been curled up in misery.


    ¡°How¡¯s your head feeling now?¡± de Burg asked promptly.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± David sighed. It still ached slightly, but he couldn¡¯t tell if that was from the blow or because he had been lying on his back almost unmoving for the past days.


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    He was really ready to get out of here.


    Unfortunately, their conversation hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see the great hunter Feleke has recovered,¡± the prince commented, swinging his whole entourage towards the cage. His voice was nasal, not quite as high-pitched as David had expected. Grating, still. ¡°We were quite worried.¡±


    ¡°Why, does it lower the price on my head if you present it smashed in?¡± David asked.


    The prince arched an eyebrow at him, then smiled too brightly. ¡°So you did get our message!¡± he said, as if that were a lucky coincidence. ¡°Truth be told, it was mostly the arch bishop pushing for it. There was a lot of unhappiness in the college about that¡ªunpleasantness concerning High Inquisitor d¡¯Evier..¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s easier to execute a Baron¡¯s son over that than a duke. Especially a duke your father himself appointed.¡±


    The prince waved that off. ¡°Thankfully, that won¡¯t be an issue much longer,¡± he said. ¡°We don¡¯t know if you heard¡ªthere has been infiting amongst the Loegrian nobility, a most distasteful business. Really, you should be grateful¡ªyour end at Rambuillet will be swift in comparison.¡±


    He looked up at David serenely, daring him to ask what had happened.


    David rolled his eyes, while deBurg retreated further into the cage.¡°We are aware of what happened at Deva on halfmoon.¡±


    ¡°So you know that any further resistance is pointless,¡± the prince said, more seriously. ¡°Your leaders are dead, or will be in a few days. Your army has been scattered. We will march this army to Deva, and take back control over what is rightfully ours.¡±


    David laughed. ¡°Take back what¡¯s yours? All you did was run Loegrion into the ground when you had it fully under your control.¡±


    The prince wasn¡¯t so easy to goad, unfortunately. ¡°Mistakes were made,¡± he said simply. ¡°They are of the past, and they shall not be repeated. We will be sure to scourge the land of both calamities this time¡ªthe werewolves and the Rot. As you see, multiple companies of Chasseuers stand ready to start the work as soon as our preparations are finished here.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± David said softly. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from pointing out what a bloody poor job they were doing of containing the werewolf spread right now, preparations or not.


    Something must have shown on his face anyway, because the prince said: ¡°We have been assured the cleansing will be starting tonight. Perhaps you will join us for the spectacle.¡±


    The prince turned to the Marshall at his side, and even though the boy had phrased it as a question, the older man bowed at once. ¡°It will be done,¡± he said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t trouble yourself for me, Your Highness,¡± David said, with the most mocking bow he could manage. Since he was still sitting down, he reckoned it was quite mocking indeed.


    But the prince smiled brightly in response. ¡°Lord Feleke, if you didn¡¯t want us to give you trouble, you should have stuck to the hunting of werewolves, rather than the rescuing.¡± He stepped closer to the cage. ¡°We will start with the werewolves locked up here in the camp, and then we¡¯ll make our way north, all the way to Deva, to deal with the little freaks you¡¯re allowing to grow up there. And then further north, and west, all the way to the Argentum Formation. We will not stop until we have cleansed all that land.¡±


    ¡°Because that worked so well last time.¡±


    He just couldn¡¯t get a rise out of that boy, could he?


    ¡°The army of then is hardly comparable to the army of now,¡± the prince said calmly. ¡°We have alchemy and manpower on our side. And the venerated Church, or course.¡±


    He had that smug expression of a teenager who had figured it all out over the stupid adults, plastered all over his face.


    David could only hope that it was just that, youthful overconfidence. He couldn¡¯t help but feel that he¡¯d be just as confident, with two Imperial marshalls and all their troops behind his back. Especially if the enemy had just lost their only general with any proper experience at large scale campaigns.


    The prince turned away, still bend over under his own cloak. That, at least, put a grim smile on David¡¯s face.


    ¡°That¡¯s true nobility for you,¡± he griped. ¡°Murdering a score of ermine so you can wear a coat you can¡¯t even walk in properly.¡±


    Then he sighed. He didn¡¯t want to know what would happen to the werewolves tonight. And he certainly didn¡¯t want to watch.


    Not that he was given a choice in the matter. As the sun vanished behind the hills to the west, guards came to pull him out of the cage, one man holding onto each of his elbows and a third one following with a pistol aimed at his back. They marched him to the center of the camp, where the big command tent stood, and the constructions he had seen going up all day.


    He hadn¡¯t been mistaken. It was stakes, indeed. Big piles of wood, dozens or them, filled a large square in front of the command tent, each one with a pole in the middle and multiple sets of shackles attached to them.


    Were the Valoise aware that they would need silver to stop the werewolves from turning?


    He feared they did.


    His heart beat high in his chest and he stumbled a little as he was dragged into position himself. Right in the first row of spectators, the pistol still digging into his back.


    He really, really wanted to close his eyes, to look away from the piles of firewood. But there was the prince, smirking at him as he wandered over. The boy had ditched the cloak, but still stood with his shoulders hunched. More used to a desk than the battlefield, David thought.


    ¡°We have decided to show mercy and give your monsters a chance at the next life,¡± the prince said, looking back and forth between David and the piles of wood. ¡°If they even have a soul, it shall be cleansed as it rises into the night.¡±


    ¡°How very generous of you,¡± David spit out through gritted teeth.


    He took a deep breath and wriggled in the grasp of his guards until he could clasp his hands behind his back. It allowed him to dig the nails of one hand into the palm of the other without being totally obvious about it. A little bit of pain to distract himself from the horror that was just starting.


    The first werewolf dragged up his pyre was Lorenz, the young man David had sent to the doctors to bite the soldiers who wouldn¡¯t make it otherwise. One of the criminals. Lorenz cried out to him, begging him for help, but there was absolutely nothing David could do with three soldiers standing guard over him and no weapon. He didn¡¯t even bother trying to reason with the Levant, who was smirking at him from between his guards.


    If it weren¡¯t for the pistol at his back, David might have thrown himself at the bastard, Imperial Guards or not. If only he had his sabre, he might have done it, pistol or not. If only there were a chance to at least bloody the Levant¡¯s nose before the guards killed him.


    But there was no chance he¡¯d manage even that.


    So he didn¡¯t move. Biding his time. Schooling his face into the mask of the Relentless.


    He wanted his last seconds to matter. Even if it was just a tiny bit. If he was going to die, he wanted to draw blood first.


    He didn¡¯t look away as one werewolf after the other were dragged up the piles of wood and tied to the centrepiece with silver.


    That was the least he owed them¡ªto not turn away like a coward. To witness their final moments.


    And yes, somewhere, the Valoise had learned to put silver on the werewolves to stop them from turning as they were dragged up the pyres.


    David¡¯s breath caught as Bernadette was dragged up as one of the last ones, wiggling desperately. Somehow, she managed to slip out of whatever they had put on her, turning instantly on the men dragging her despite her injuries. She didn¡¯t attack them, though.


    Instead, she howled at the blood red sky above, so fitting to what was about to happen.


    Fleur, don¡¯t¡­ she cried.


    David dug his thump into his palm with all his strength to stop himself from turning his head in the direction of Fleur¡¯s cage. He had been so distracted by the horror of what the Valoise were about to do, he hadn¡¯t even realised that she wasn¡¯t amongst the werewolves dragged up. But now that he was really counting, he realised that several of his human looking soldiers were missing.


    The Valoise hadn¡¯t actually tested their prisoners. And if the other soldiers in a cage kept their mouths shut¡­


    The echo of Berndatte¡¯s cry still rang in David¡¯s ears when a priest stepped forwards. Giving a sermon, of all things, preaching about Mithras¡¯s mercy and generosity to his enemmies. David thought it was a final insult¡ªor maybe the Valoise were really that blinded in their faith.


    He hummed to himself to drown the priest out. Praying to the moon instead for a miracle to save the werewolves whimpering as the silver burned their skin. Praying to Morgulon that she had one more trick hidden, something to keep Imani alive. And yes, George Louis, too.


    And he prayed that Lane could keep the situation from spiralling out of control. Muster more troops. Possibly even more werewolves, even though he didn¡¯t know where they would find any.


    Anything to stop the pisscoats from taking the country back. Anything at all to stop this from happening elsewhere.


    Heat washed over him when the stakes were lit, terrible heat. There was nothing gentle about these flames, nothing kind, whatever the priest had just said. All they brought was death and suffering.


    Smoke blew into his face, together with another wave of warmth, but inside, inside, he was cold. Not a muscle on his face moved, even as the flames licked up the werewolves¡¯s bodies. He wondered what it felt like, to be frozen by the silver of the manacles and burned by the fire at the same time.


    Their cries cut him open, leaving him raw and bleeding. Still he didn¡¯t look away. Didn¡¯t close his eyes, no matter how much the smoke burned. It wouldn¡¯t have helped against the screaming, anyway.


    As Alvin¡¯s shade pooled around his shoulders like armour, he let the tears and the hate pool together inside his chest.


    If he ever got a chance, he would make these murderers hurt the same way.

 Bonus Chapter

    Nathan was good at plenty of things. He really was! He was an excellent horseman, an equally good shot, and the best of his brothers at chess.


    He was just very bad at playing it while sitting still. Or sitting still in general. Usually, he didn¡¯t even bother trying.


    Unfortunately, there was nothing usual about the situation. And right now, he was the only one who wasn¡¯t being pulled in three different directions. Andrew was sitting with Charlene and her mother¡ªwhich was certain to cause trouble, should the ladies survive. Seeing how the youngest de Burg still avoided even looking at his stricken mother and sister made Nathan glad to have a family that could be counted on in a crisis. Greg was sitting with Thoko, watching his babies¡ªand the baby boys, too¡ªwhile Morgulon was busy shadowing one healer or another, trying to keep everyone alive. According to rumours, Duke Stuard was holding on by a thread and the sheer stubborness of the Royal Healer, who was apparently determined to die of exhaustion before he watched his charge die.


    Lane and Bram were doing the politics, dealing with the press and rounding up the last of the traitors. Their relatives.


    Picot¡¯s secretary was still on the run, but his daughter, Anne, had apparently taken one look at her father in the cell and started spilling the beans. Berenice Pettau on the other hand was begging to take on the Test of Faith, to prove her innocence as Lord Carter had done.


    At least that was the latest rumour going around on the Grande Gallerie.


    Nathan was hoping it was true. If the daughter hadn¡¯t known, maybe the son hadn¡¯t, either? That would mean that they didn¡¯t have to worry about a traitor stabbing David in the back.


    He was very glad to leave the religion to Lane. Even if it meant sitting still all day. He was sitting at his mother¡¯s side, after all.


    Watching her slip away more and more every hour.


    If it weren¡¯t for the apprentice healer who seemed to have decided she was his primary patient, Nathan was fairly sure she would be dead already¡ªor at least in that deep unconsciousness the doctors talked about, the final stage of the poisoning.


    Imani wasn¡¯t quite there yet¡ªthough her skin had taken an unhealthy colour, the white in her eyes was all yellow, and her arms were locked in a sort of permanent cramp. Her legs and abdomen were swollen.


    Nathan dabbed at the sweat standing on her forehead, and she muttered something unintelligible, her eyelids fluttering.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he whispered. ¡°Go back to sleep, Mum.¡±


    When she woke fully, she didn''t know where she was, or why she was here. His presence seemed to ease that distress somewhat. Still, he was perfectly happy to let her sleep. He wasn¡¯t even sure if he was doing the right thing, encouraging the young healer, giving her water, what little honeyed milk he could get past her lips. In a way, it felt like torture, to keep the sick alive, just barely hanging on. In pain.


    All while the healer drained their powers a little more with every passing hour. What was the point? They had dragged all their elders here, and it still wasn¡¯t enough.


    Time was running out quickly.


    Imani whimpered softly in her sleep. Nathan thought it was the cramps, the way her joints were locked, all the muscles straining against each other, that hurt her the worst. He had tried loosening them up, rubbing them, but it was no good. The doctors didn''t know how to help, either.


    Nathan looked around. Bram was out of sight, and Andrew sat bent over Charlene¡¯s equally stiff and still body. Greg had fallen asleep, his daughters curled up against him, Thoko''s hand in his hair.


    Unhappily, Nathan drummed his fingers against the wood of his peg leg, crossed over his good one. He wanted to get up, to find Morgulon. To ask her to bite Imani now, while there was still some chance that the curse might help fight the poison. They didn¡¯t have much time left, did they? And a coin toss sounded a lot better than the odds she would face otherwise.


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    No one else in the family seemed willing to make that decision.


    David wouldn¡¯t have hesitated, Nathan was sure of that. But David was fighting on his own, far away.


    And they were running out of time.


    But if he got up now, there¡¯d be nobody on her side in case Imani came to suddenly¡ªwhich had happened before. She¡¯d be disoriented and alone.


    So he stayed put, no matter how much he wanted to get up and walk away. Even if it just meant searching the palace until he found Morgulon. Maybe drop by the infirmary. Poke some fun at George Louis while he couldn¡¯t¡­


    Nah.


    Even that thought had no appeal right now. Damn Valoise, ruining everything.


    He still couldn¡¯t quite believe David had kissed the duke. Again. Or that Greg hadn¡¯t even made fun of them all night after walking in on them. Again.


    What a wasted opportunity.


    It seemed like ages ago rather than a week since they had said goodbye to David.


    Nathan tried to focus on memories of better times, but didn¡¯t quite succeed. It didn''t help when there was a commotion a few beds away: a doctor calling out, and a bunch of healers rushing over, to keep the person in that bed alive a few hours longer.


    Once the rush was over, the young apprentice healer came back, falling into the chair next to Imani¡¯s bed, sweat standing on his pale face. He let his eyes fall closed and snored within a minute.


    Nathan glared at him. Imani didn¡¯t stir, though, so he let the boy snore on. It ended abruptly when there was another commotion¡ªthis one would have been met with cheers if the mood hadn''t been so dire. The city guard had done its job and apprehended Picot¡¯s secretary as he had tried to leave the city. Commander Bacrot had come in person to share the good news.


    At the noise the commander made, the young healer jerked upright, reaching for Imani¡¯s hand to feel her pulse before his eyes were even fully open. Then he groaned, and turned possibly even whiter in the face.


    ¡°You¡¯re hurting yourself, boy,¡± Bishop Larssen admonished him, approaching from behind with Morgulon on his heels.


    Not that the old Bishop looked much better.


    Morgulon sniffed first Imani, then pressed her cold nose into the young healer¡¯s neck. He barely even moved, his head sinking forwards and his eyes fluttering closed before he caught himself and reached for Imani again.


    Nathan just barely caught a faint light in the young healer¡¯s hand, a light that wasn¡¯t actually there. Magical light.


    Bishop Larssen shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s amazing, the reserves she has, after four days.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why she¡¯s here,¡± Nathan pointed out.


    Morgulon didn''t say a word, even though Nathan was fairly sure that she could have spoken to Larssen, had she wanted to. After all, if Pierre had been able to teach Nathan and David to listen in on the werewolves'' conversations within a month, someone as experienced as Bishop Larssen should be able to do this same?


    Instead, she just turned to the Bishop, licking his hands. It made Larssen sigh.


    ¡°I wish you wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± he said. ¡°It freaks out so many people when they see it.¡±


    ¡°Because her teeth are cursed?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°That, and because it¡¯s very hard not to lose the magic while I wash my hands. It just isn¡¯t hygenic.¡± He stared down at them, then glanced at Imani and the apprentice helping Imani.


    ¡°Anyway, if you¡¯ll excuse me,¡± he added, turning away. ¡°I better put this to good use.¡±


    The elder she-wolf turned to follow him. Nathan hesitated, but then made up his mind.


    ¡°Morgulon?¡± he called after her. He stared down at Imani, unchanged, at least outwardly, even with all the magic the young healer was pouring into her. There was no point in waiting.


    He still barely managed to force out the words. But it needed to be done. ¡°Will you bite her?¡± he whispered. ¡°Please? Before it¡¯s too late.¡±


    Why was he begging for this? Why wasn¡¯t Morgulon offering? Why was she shaking her head?


    She half-turned her back on him again, and before Nathan could say anything more, she said: Wait.


    ¡°For what?¡± Nathan grumbled.


    For a second, he thought Morgulon wouldn¡¯t answer at all. She looked over her shoulder at where Commander Bacrot was taking reports from the guards spread around the Gallerie, just in case there was another traitor trying something desperate. Nathan was about to prompt her again¡ªnow that he could actually sense the werewolves talking, it was all the more frustrating when she didn¡¯t explain herself.


    Tomorrow, she said. We''ll see then.


    Nathan opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. "Fine then."

 Chapter 178

    Greg woke with a start. Bright, glazing sunlight burned in his eyes. Except that it wasn¡¯t sunlight, and he didn¡¯t see it with his eyes, either.


    It wasn¡¯t even burning on the Grande Gallerie, and he wasn¡¯t the only one who noticed it. The young apprentice healer who had been focused on Imani was just sitting up, rubbing his eyes.


    Shaking himself fully awake, Greg turned human and hunted for his clothes in the very first gloom of pre-dawn. He tried to be as quiet as he could, to let his family sleep a few more hours, but he needed to know what was going on. Was that Morgulon? But why? What was she doing, in the middle of the night?


    As suddenly as the inferno had started, it dimmed again, leaving Greg swaying on his feet as he tried to put on his socks with afterimages burning in his mind. Or was echo the better word?


    It led him all the way to the infirmary, opening to the last sight he had expected: Morgulon was sitting pressed up against the duke¡¯s bed, her head resting on the man¡¯s stomach. Bent over her stood Bishop Larssen, his hands framing Morgulon¡¯s muzzle. He had pulled his hair back, so Greg got a good view of his stark features, made even more pronounced by the way his lips were curled up in effort. The flames of the gas lamps sent shadows flickering over his curdled brow.


    His eyes were alight with the same, eerie blue light as Morgulon¡¯s and there was sweat running down his forehead.


    The room reeked of spilled magic, but it seemed like the bishop had managed to tame the power Morgulon was feeding him. There was only the softest glow around her muzzle, but Greg thought he could see the bishop¡¯s hands shake.


    How much magic was Morgulon giving him? If she had been the inferno from just a moment ago¡ªas bright as she had ever been during a fight with the Rot-queens¡ªcould Bishop Larssen heal the duke? Truly heal him? Could they do the same for Imani?


    After a few minutes, Larssen straightened up with a groan, rubbing his back with both hands. He stood bent backwards, hands in his back for a few seconds, a hint of a smile on his face, an expression of relief. There were tears running down his face, and the way his lips moved soundlessly made Greg wonder if he was praying.


    Finally, he wiped the sweat off his brow, turning to Morgulon.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. ¡°Thank you so very much. I did not think¡ªI did not dream that this was possible. If we can repeat that right after full moon¡­ Can you do that, Morgulon? He might actually have a chance.¡±


    Morgulon shrugged, then nodded, tail swishing across the ground lazily.


    ¡°Thank you for trusting me enough to show me,¡± Larssen said. ¡°Excuse me¡ª¡± He hid a yawn behind his hand and turned away, jumping when he finally noticed Greg.


    ¡°Lord Feleke! My pardon, I didn¡¯t notice you walk in.¡± The bishop glanced back at Morgulon, then didn¡¯t say anything more than that.


    ¡°What¡ªdid you just heal him?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°To the best of my ability, yes,¡± Larssen said. ¡°Until the poison causes more damage, at least. Lady Morgulon offered,¡± he added.


    Morgulon made no sound at all, even as he called her a lady.


    ¡°What about my mother?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°I will be down at the Gallerie as soon as I¡¯ve rested a little,¡± Larssen promised. ¡°I¡¯m hoping that with Lady Morgulon¡¯s help, we will be able to help a lot of people. Just a half an hour,¡± he promised. He smiled then, a tired and worn smile, but radiant nonetheless. ¡°Cheer up. There¡¯s hope yet. Lord Mithras has answered our prayers.¡±


    With that, the bishop left. Greg remained behind to stare at Morgulon, who didn¡¯t succeed at looking innocent.


    ¡°Did you just¡­¡±


    Greg glanced at the clock at the wall. It was just before five in the morning. Hardly anyone else was awake. Had Morgulon just dragged the bishop out of bed to¡ªhow had she convinced him to come with her?


    He was praying, Morgulon answered the unfinished question. I didn¡¯t wake him.


    ¡°And you just¡ªwhat, grabbed his sleeve and dragged him up here?¡±


    I talked to him.


    ¡°You talked to him.¡± Greg had actually an even harder time picturing that. ¡°Did you wear clothes?¡±


    Morgulon curled up on herself. He truly is a godly man, she said. He never even looked.


    She sighed, and added: Hello, Pierre, just as the door flew open.


    Greg hadn¡¯t even felt him walk up. Which was surprising, because Pierre was furious, stomping into the room, glaring at Morgulon, pointing an angry finger at her.


    ¡°Are you mad?¡± he hissed. ¡°Why would you show a bishop of Mithras what we¡ªwhy would you help him?¡± Pierre whirled to point at George Louis, sleeping unmoving. ¡°Him, of all people! Just let the miserable bastard croak! We could¡¯ve crowned Lord Relentless king, soon as the war is over!¡±


    Greg stared at his old pack leader, mouth open in shock. He tried to get a word in edgewise, but his tongue refused to move.


    You. Would crown the Relentless king.


    ¡°Better the Relentless than him!¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know if he¡¯s still alive,¡± Greg managed to force out. What was going on here?


    ¡°Ragna and Rust both live. I have been calling for them ever since news of the battle¡¯s outcome reached us, but they¡¯re refusing to follow.¡±


    They¡¯re old enough to know their own minds.


    Pierre ignored Morgulon¡¯s comment. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t be staying in the south unless they think they can still win something there. It strikes me as unlikely that they would believe so unless your brother were still alive.¡±


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    ¡°That¡¯s¡ªyou¡¯re sure?¡±


    It sounded logical, didn¡¯t it?


    Ragna and Rust are alive, Morgulon said. And they¡¯re not answering us.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only explanation,¡± Pierre insisted. ¡°The Relentless is alive.¡±


    ¡°David is alive,¡± Greg repeated. ¡°Wait, did you tell my family¡ª¡±


    For a moment, he felt like he could breathe again. He thought he saw the duke stir, too. Just barely. Probably reacting to David¡¯s name subconsciously.


    Morgulon stared in the same direction, tail still sweeping the floor.


    ¡°I felt it could wait until morning,¡± Pierre said. He glared at Morgulon. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect her to act so¡ªto tell Bishop Larssen before we could even discuss the matter! Surely, you agree that your brother would make a better king than Duke Stuard?¡±


    Greg groaned. ¡°Not you too. Bernadette said the same.¡±


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s a smart woman,¡± Pierre said generously.


    ¡°He¡¯s a baron¡¯s son.¡± Greg threw up his hands. ¡°Look, I get it, he was scary and now he¡¯s on our side. The devil you know and all. But it¡¯s not going to happen.¡±


    ¡°I believe you forget that most of Loegrion¡¯s aristocracy is going to be dead after full moon.¡±


    Pierre¡¯s tone made Greg deeply uncomfortable. It was almost gleeful. The elder was acting as if this were a good thing, something exciting, rather than the calamity it was.


    ¡°If David survived, then we have to assume that some of the other officers at the battle did, too,¡± Greg pointed out. ¡°And most of them were higher ranking than him, like the Marquess of Southshire, just to name one. And anyway, we brought you here to help avoid exactly that.¡±


    ¡°And you want us to do what?¡± Pierre asked. He was looking at Morgulon, not Greg, though. ¡°Save them all? Do you have any clue how much that would take out of us? Do you seriously expect me¡ªeveryone¡ªto expend ourselves like that for a bunch of ungrateful pigs? Let them take the bite! Let Mithras sort them out! Why would you¡ªwhy would you help any of them? What¡¯s in it for us?¡±


    There¡¯s as many as a thousand unsettled werewolves loose in Loegrion as of last night, Morgulon replied. Maybe we¡¯re lucky and the Valoise shoot their bitten ones quickly, and our army¡¯s unsettled ones, too. Maybe there¡¯ll only be fifty left in a week. Maybe we won¡¯t be so lucky. But when was the last time fifty unsettled werewolves were running wild in the country all at the same time?


    She stretched, claws clicking gently on the floor tiles. And do you really think nobody will realise within the next few weeks that we held back?


    ¡°How would anyone human know¡­¡±


    You felt Lenny die, same as I did, Morgulon said coldly. Don¡¯t tell me you didn¡¯t. Don¡¯t tell me you truly believe that nobody who witnessed his death survived. Is that really something you want to gamble on?


    She settled down again, not even looking at Pierre, curling up as if to sleep. Do you really think the Relentless will forgive us if we step back and let his mother die? His brother¡¯s love? His father¡¯s apprentices? Because I don¡¯t think he will. I don¡¯t even think he should.


    ¡°So you went ahead and decided the matter for all of us.¡±


    Before I let you turn us all into monsters? Yes. Yes, I did.


    Pierre reached for his forehead dramatically. Greg was again frozen in place. Apparently, the only thing both elders agreed on was that it wasn¡¯t his time to speak.


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t tell the bishop, did you?¡± Pierre said softly. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have explained it to him, the effect age has and how all true elders might do what you did?¡±


    Greg had a bad feeling where Pierre was going with this.


    You¡¯re a fool, Pierre, Morgulon said, still without looking at him. A bitter old fool.


    ¡°A monster, as you said,¡± Pierre said. ¡°A soulless monster who fears no hell. All I need to do is kill the bishop, and nobody will ever hear about this.¡±


    He turned around. ¡°I apologise, Greg. You won¡¯t be able to speak on this, but I promise, I¡¯ll figure out a way to help your mother. And I promise I¡¯ll be a good advisor to your brother. Really, it¡¯s for the best of all of us.¡±


    The elder¡¯s powers built around Greg, while Morgulon¡¯s laughter echoed silently in his head. Before he could make sense of what was going on, the old man disappeared in a cloud of shredding fabric, to be replaced by the equally ancient wolf. White light crowned his head, like a halo. Yet Greg felt his own vision turn dark as the elder took a step towards him, pushing¡ªsqueezing¡ª


    A soft growl permeated his bones, and his vision cleared. Morgulon was slowly rising to her feet, shaking herself. Pierre turned his magic on her, but it didn¡¯t stop her from sauntering over. There was no light on her, yet she was ignoring Pierre¡¯s will as if it was nothing.


    She was tired. She had just spent a lot of her power to help heal the duke. Yet when she rounded on Pierre, mostly what Greg got from her was a sense of deep contempt.


    I never wanted to rule. That''s a human thing. But I will not be ruled by you.


    But you will let him¡ª


    A human monarch. For humans. And for those of us who care to live like them, yes. I will not stand by as you take the crown in all but name.


    Greg swayed like a leaf in the breeze as Pierre gathered his power again. His magic was like a sledgehammer, and it drove him to his knees. But Morgulon? Morgulon was like David¡¯s rapier when he was at his best. Fast. Precise. Impossible to bind.


    She pushed up against Pierre, teeth bared. She never bit him, never resorted to actual violence¡ªyet she was overpowering the older wolf.


    You never learned how to fight your equal, she snarled. Always leaning on children. Relying on them.


    Arrogant bitch!, Pierre growled back. He barked, and flames roared towards Morgulon. Greg crawled backwards on his elbows, away from the heat. He looked around for a place to hide, or put out the fire, some water¡ªanything¡ª


    Somewhere behind the smoke, Morgulon laughed.


    That¡¯s the best you can do?, she asked. Fire? I''ve faced worse when I was but a cub. Did you learn nothing new in the past forty years?


    She stepped right through the inferno, her own white flame burning brighter in her fur. The Red taught me how to hide. The Old One taught me how to fight. Every werewolf I meet, I learned something new. But you still cling to what you learned as a boy. As a human.


    Pierre walked backwards awkwardly, stiff-legged, tail between his legs. He was struggling to raise it again, Greg could tell, but Morgulon was on top of him now, all dominance, power, and magic.


    You will do as I say. Her words echoed painfully in Greg¡¯s head, and he wasn¡¯t even the target. You will help the humans, the healers, to the best of your ability. You will give them all the magic you can give without hurting yourself.


    Pierre whined softly, trying to pull away now rather than fight her off. At that point, Morgulon grabbed him by the scruffy fur in his neck. It looked a little like a cat picking up a kitten that had escaped, except that she drew blood.


    It sparked with magical flames.


    She pressed Pierre down onto the ground until his chest touched the ground. His ancient joints cracked as he cowered before her.


    Morgulon kept him there a few more seconds, before backing off. As soon as she did, he ran, scratching at the door with his claws until he managed to use the handle, fleeing as quickly as his old legs would take him.


    For a few seconds, all that Greg could hear was the rushing of blood in his own ears, then a voice broke the silence.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡±


    When he looked up, Duke George Louis sat upright in bed, looking awake. Looking present. Looking very scared, too.


    Greg groaned inwardly.


    When the duke woke up, Morgulon bolted after Pierre with just a hint more dignity than him. The door fell shut behind her.

 Chapter 179

    ¡°What the hells just happened?¡± Duke George Louis asked into the sudden silence.


    Greg was still staring at the door, falling closed behind Morgulon. How was he supposed to explain¡­He was still trying to wrap his head around what Morgulon had done. Why she had done it. And why now? Why hadn¡¯t she offered Bishop Larssen her powers the moment she had stepped onto the Grande Gallerie?


    Or at least as soon as his allegiance had been confirmed?


    Could the healers have saved Desmarais with her help?


    ¡°How long was I out?¡± the duke added.


    Greg blinked when a glowing ember flew past his face, flying up from a smoldering piece of what had probably been bandages before, prepared on a table in the corner. He got up, flicking the fabric onto the ground, to stomp at it before anything else started burning.


    It was a miracle that Pierre¡¯s spell hadn¡¯t set the whole room on fire.


    A miracle, or Morgulon¡¯s magic.


    ¡°How long¡ª¡±


    ¡°About half a day and a night,¡± Greg interrupted the duke, before he could ask again. He turned to the empty beds, to make sure there were no flames hiding in the linens there. George Louis watched him, then turned to stare up at the clock.


    ¡°And what happened here?¡± the duke asked. ¡°What were¡ªthose two¡ªdoing in my room?¡±


    ¡°Bishop Larssen healed you,¡± Greg replied. ¡°Morgulon helped him.¡±


    The duke frowned at him. ¡°The bishop healed me?¡± he repeated. ¡°I thought he couldn¡¯t do that. I¡¯m fairly certain I was told that over and over in the past few days. That even all the healers together would barely be able to keep me alive, and only at the expense of everyone else¡¯s lives.¡±


    Greg nodded. ¡°He couldn¡¯t do it alone. Morgulon had to give him the magic for it. Pierre wasn¡¯t happy about it, though. He thought it would be better to make everyone take the coin toss. So they, uh, fought it out, I guess.¡±


    ¡°And she won?¡± the duke asked, turning to look at the door.


    ¡°Yes, Morgulon won. And I didn¡¯t know that she could do that,¡± Greg added. ¡°Heal you, I mean. Or¡ªat least¡ªhelp heal you.¡±


    The duke nodded slowly. ¡°I believe that,¡± he said. ¡°If only because you wouldn¡¯t have waited this long while your mother suffered.¡±


    Greg paused, rubbed his own arms. George Louis was right: He wouldn¡¯t have waited. Who would, while their loved ones suffered? If Morgulon had made it known on the first day, what she could do. Would she have been drained now, just like the healers were barely able to help?


    But what difference would that make, as long as they got healed? Did it really matter who exhausted their powers first, Morgulon or the healers?


    But then, the healers weren¡¯t at risk of being killed by the traitors as long as the werewolves stood guard over them.


    ¡°Picot¡¯s secretary¡ªthe one who killed the man who provided the poisonous mushrooms¡ªwas apprehended yesterday,¡± Greg said. ¡°He started talking last night. I reckon Morgulon must have finally felt save to show her full powers, now that there¡¯s nobody left who can stop her from saving people.¡±


    The duke nodded slowly, staring down at the yellowish skin of his hands, resting on the covers. ¡°What day is it? Must be full moon soon?¡±


    ¡°Tonight is the first night of full moon, yes,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Where is Bishop Larssen now?¡± the duke asked. ¡°Was he present, during the fight? He didn¡¯t get injured, did he?¡±


    Greg shook his head. ¡°He left before Pierre got here. He¡¯s resting. He promised he¡¯d help more people in a bit. As long as Morgulon can provide the magic needed.¡±


    ¡°Do you think she can heal everyone who was stricken?¡± George Louis frowned, and added: ¡°How many people are even still alive?¡±


    Greg grimaced. ¡°Morgulon didn¡¯t really elaborate much. And then Pierre barged in, to¡ªto stop her.¡±


    He took a deep breath, and added: ¡°Are you¡ªaware¡ªthat Duke Desmarais died?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I remember that part. I remember Lady deLande challenging Picot, too. And the outcome. When was that?¡±


    ¡°Two days ago.¡±


    ¡°Right. So this is the sixth morning since the attack? And what has the death toll been since then? How many could have been saved, if Morgulon had spoken up sooner?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how the night went,¡± Greg said softly. ¡°When I fell asleep, twelve people were dead. Many through their own hand. Others, like Duke Desmarais, in the first sickness. I don¡¯t think the healers could do much about that. After all, they were all rested at that point.¡±


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    ¡°That number is far lower than I feared,¡± George Louis admitted.


    When the door opened, they both jumped, though not as hard at the Royal Healer, who nearly fell backwards through the door again upon seeing his charge sitting upright in bed. His face was white as teh bedsheets, and there were lines etched into his face that hadn¡¯t been there a week ago. His previously round cheeks were sunken and sagging.


    As Greg and George Louis stared back at him, he rubbed his bloodshot eyes, as if he couldn¡¯t believe what he was seeing.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± he finally managed.


    So Greg explained again what Bishop Larssen had done, what Morgulon had helped him do. The Royal Healer shook his head the whole time, and finally asked: ¡°This werewolf¡ªshe is at the Grande Gallerie now? And she has more magic still?¡±


    ¡°I believe so,¡± Greg said.


    ¡°Go find her, Maitrise,¡± Duke George Louis said. ¡°I am feeling quite fine right now. And there are others who still need help.¡±


    The healer went. Greg decided to follow, to see how Imani was doing¡ªher, and everyone else. However, before he made it out of the door, the duke slowly, carefully, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and leaning forwards. Testing their strength, by the look of it.


    ¡°Is this a good idea?¡± Greg asked, when the duke heaved himself up, basing one hand against the wall for balance. He still didn¡¯t look good¡ªhis skin hadn¡¯t yet lost that unhealthy yellowish pallor it had taken over the past days, most noticeable in his eyes. His abdomen and legs were swollen, and there were little red lines showing all over his face.


    He fell back into his bed after a few seconds, cursing even as he struggled to get his breath back. After a few seconds, he gave up, basing his elbows on his knees.


    ¡°What¡¯s the situation outside the Grande Gallerie?¡± he asked. ¡°Any news from David?¡±


    ¡°Not¡­ really,¡± Greg said slowly. ¡°Not since the lieutenant arrived here two days ago. Do you¡­?¡±


    He trailed off when the duke nodded impatiently.


    ¡°But you have heard rumours?¡± George Louis wanted to know. ¡°There must have been something in the past two days? What are the newspapers saying about the situation?¡±


    ¡°Lane and I have handled the press,¡± Greg said. ¡°They got some good pictures of Picot, some personal stories of the sick, and there¡¯re calls for recruits everywhere. There¡¯ve been very few articles on the battle yet. Well, and Pierre said¡ªwell, I don¡¯t know if we can even trust his word on this. But he said that he tried to call Ragna and Rust, David¡¯s captains, and that they ignored him. He concluded from that that David must continue to be alive, because they wouldn¡¯t be staying in the south otherwise. But I reckon they might have gotten captured themselves just as easily.¡±


    ¡°I like Pierre¡¯s logic better,¡± the duke said darkly. ¡°Even if he¡¯d have watched me die. If David is still alive¡­ Mithras, I hope it¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°I hope he¡¯s alive, too,¡± Greg said. But he couldn¡¯t stop himself from pointing out: ¡°Even if he is, he¡¯s probably still sitting in the same cage as he was when the lieutenant first informed us of his survival. And even if he were to escape, he¡¯s not going to be able to make much of a difference.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± George Luis said, glaring up at him. ¡°I¡¯m not expecting him to.¡± He was quiet for a moment, then glanced around the room, before adding: ¡°I just miss him.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve hardly seen him for the past, what, twelve years?¡±


    ¡°You think that makes it easier?¡± George Louis growled at him. ¡°I had accepted the situation. I had managed to convince myself that he¡¯d never speak to me again, that it was over, he was done with me, and then he walked straight into my company headquarters, looking for you. That was the first time he didn¡¯t just walk backwards out of the room again upon seeing me. I didn¡¯t have a clue what had happened to you, but I was glad for whatever it was. I¡¯m still glad.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Greg muttered. His fists clenched into fists¡ªthe moonphase didn¡¯t help. His teeth ground together, too, and he had to make a conscious effort to stop himself from snapping at the duke.


    ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯ll be checking on my mother.¡±


    The duke just waved at him to go.


    For the first time since half moon, there was something akin to hope in the air of the Grande Gallerie when Greg entered. Bishop Larssen stood with Morgulon¡ªby the looks of it, he had just finished explaining what she had done. As Greg made his way over to Imani, the rest of the healers pressed in on the elder. Concerned relatives and exhausted nurses and curious servants watched and murmured in awe as a halo of radiant light appeared around Morgulon¡¯s head.


    Showing off, Greg thought, or maybe demonstrating the point. She hadn¡¯t needed the light earlier, had she?


    The sussuration grew louder when Laurent trotted over, his fur lighting up in a similar way. Monroe and Malinda were next, and then Pierre followed, limping ever so slightly.


    The apprentice who had focused on Imani left the cluster of healers and werewolves, staring at his hands and moving gingerly, as if he carried a glass filled to the rim with water. It took him forever to settle down next to her, and when he reached for her with his hands, he cried out softly. Light flared between his hands, throwing his face in stark relief.


    A strong smell of rotten eggs surrounded the bed. The young healer curled in on himself, eyes huge and his face distorted as if he were in pain. After a few halting breaths, he reached out again, and this time, he managed to control the power Morgulon had lent him. Greg could tell from the way Imani inhaled, the rigid posture of her legs and hands relaxing that it was working, too. It was beautiful to see, but he had no time to watch: Some of the healers produced worse than a bit of bad smell, and the elders could barely move for all the mages who wanted their power.


    Of course, it just had to be a bucket of excrements, of all things, to come to life, first.


    By the time Greg had cleaned himself up enough to be around people, patients were sitting up in their beds, just like Duke George Louis had. Thoko hugged Greg with a grin almost as bright as Morgulon¡¯s magic fire, and Imani smiled at him, too, wrapped tightly in Bram¡¯s arms.


    It was disaster averted¡ªat least for a few days. All they could do was pray that the full moon would be enough to replenish their elders¡¯ reserves enough for the healers to repeat the miracle afterwards.


    And still. It felt like victory. As the sun sunk behind the city and the elders dragged themselves down towards the cells, even Pierre too tired to complain about the magnanimous treatment, as the healers fell asleep wherever they found a place to settle down, a sense of celebration spread throughout the palace. Greg  couldn¡¯t stop smiling as he carried the cubs with Thoko up towards Lane¡¯s office, to watch them over full moon.


    Finally, he could breathe properly again.

 Chapter 180

    At midnight, werewolves started howling outside the Valoision war camp, sending the sentries into a panic. The alarms were blown, and the whole camp was woken for an attack. Whoever was out there just slunk back into the darkness, to repeat the same thing a couple of hours later, and then again an hour before dawn.


    By then, everybody was annoyed rather than scared. David half expected the real attack at sunrise, but nothing happened. The camp woke up properly with everyone grouchy after the interrupted sleep.


    One more day until the first night of full moon.


    David leaned against the bars of his cage, trying to stare into the cage beyond Fleur¡¯s. It was full of injured soldiers¡ªDavid thought at least one of them was an unsettled veteran, but it was hard to tell. Many of them were still too weak to rise.


    If one of them was unconscious¡ªturning at moonrise without even a chance to fight it¡ªthen every human in that cage was dead.


    If he warned the Valoise, every werewolf still in the camp would die.


    David retreated back to the wall of the cage, pulling up his knees against his chest. He hated the choice he had to make. He couldn¡¯t doom Fleur now, could he?


    But to stand by and watch dozens of helpless people be ripped apart was hardly better, even if he didn¡¯t know them personally like he knew some of the werewolves.


    What would Morgulon expect him to do at this moment?


    Fleur wouldn¡¯t bite anyone, not tonight. Was she old enough, strong enough, to keep the others in check? But what about tomorrow night?


    David groaned softly. Someone had to do what was necessary. He had lived by that maxime, and he still believed in it. But what was the necessary thing right now?


    ¡°Lord¡ªLord Feleke?¡±


    Fleur stood at the bars of her own cage, staring at him. When he looked up, she waved, a small, urgent gesture.


    David sighed and pulled himself to his feet, walking over. DeBurg and Pettau stared at him, while Fleur looked right and left. Finally, she said: ¡°There¡¯s¡ªthere¡¯s a lot of rust on these cages, Sir. Lots of rust.¡±


    There was not actually any rust on the cages. It took David a long moment to realise what she was trying to tell him.


    ¡°Rust,¡± he repeated. She nodded urgently and retreated back to the other side of the cage before he could say anything else.


    Rust was out there. There was an elder out there. David wanted to ask if Fleur could talk to him even over the distance, but kept his mouth shut. The Valoise didn¡¯t need to hear anything else.


    Had Ragna made it, too?


    But it didn¡¯t quite matter. If Rust was out there, close enough that she could tell, he was close enough to keep the young werewolves within the cages from turning. And if Fleur was telling him, there might even be a plan.


    The relief almost knocked the wind out of David. He didn¡¯t have to make the decision today. He had another night and another day to figure out what to do.


    Unfortunately, someone from her cage ratted her out at about noon. David couldn¡¯t quite fault the healer¡ªmoon rise was just a few hours away, and the man probably didn¡¯t know Fleur didn¡¯t have to transform.


    And then the Valoise didn¡¯t even believe him.


    David smiled grimly as the panicked healer waved his arms and the soldiers he had attracted just laughed. He could just about imagine how the pisscoats pointed out that all the werewolves were dead. Right until another healer got involved, and then most of the cage.


    The pisscoats were a lot less merry after that, even as the crowd of curious soldiers grew. At some point, a sergeant pushed his way in. David didn¡¯t see what happened next through the mass of bodies, but after a few minutes, soldiers ran off and the whole thing escalated up the chain of command.


    David watched with cold amusement and a sinking feeling in his chest. Yes, here was a werewolf. And she looked totally human.


    And now they knew it was possible.


    Crucially, nobody pulled Fleur out of the cage just yet. Not even the silver-armed Chasseurs that showed up to oggle her.


    Instead, Imperial Guards showed up to pull David out of his cage, drag him back to where the stakes still filled the air with the smell of smoke. The guards didn¡¯t give him time to stare at Bernadette¡¯s burned corpse, still up there, dragging him onwards into the command tent. Still, the hate welled up inside him as he was pushed into a seat, a pistol once again trained on his head.


    The tent was opulent¡ªridiculously so. It started with the size: Enough for a bed and a travelling wardrobe and a washbasin, a large table and chairs. All of it sitting on big carpets, layers of them. There was even a small shrine and the icons of a couple of saints. And the Roi Solei, of course.


    The two marshalls¡ªAllard and Soto, as David had learned¡ªsat at the table. It had a map of Legrion on it, but right now, both of them appeared to be resting, focused on their wine glasses. Allard was the older one, but Soto, too, had at least twenty years on the prince. They barely looked up from their glasses while the Levant stomped up to David, staring down on him. The boy tried to stand tall, but his shoulders were still hunched. David just stared down at the floor between his feet.


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    ¡°That woman. You knew she¡¯s a werewolf, didn¡¯t you?¡± the prince demanded. ¡°How many more are there?¡±


    David pressed his teeth together.


    ¡°How many more?¡± the prince repeated. ¡°And if they look human, how do we recognize them?¡±


    David didn¡¯t even glance at him.


    Not that his silence helped much. Already, Lord deClare strode into the tent, bowing deeply. ¡°Your Highness, marshalls. How may I be of help?¡±


    ¡°Lord deClare. It appears there is another werewolf hiding amongst the prisoners,¡± the prince stated, looking at the lord intently.


    DeClare looked back, clearly waiting for more to come. The marshalls, too, were both watching now.


    ¡°Your Highness?¡± deClare ventured after a few seconds.


    ¡°You are unsurprised by this revelation,¡± the prince noted. ¡°Yet you did not see it fit to inform us of this possibility.¡±


    DeClare¡¯s expression turned to bewilderment, and he glanced at David. Finally, he bowed deeply. ¡°My deepest apologies, Your Highness. I do not know which possibility you are referring to.¡±


    ¡°But you know that not all werewolves look like werewolves. With the eyes and the hair,¡± Marshall Allard interjected.


    The expression on deClare¡¯s face when it finally dawned on him what they were asking was worth gold. David barely managed to suppress a laugh.


    ¡°I do know that, yes,¡± deClare said slowly. He visibly swallowed what else he wanted to say.


    David bit his lips, grinning inwardly. Every child in Loegrion knew that. But deClare could hardly say so, could he? Not to the crown prince¡¯s face.


    ¡°Still you did not see it fit to bring up.¡±


    DeClare hesitated, and landed on flattery. ¡°I believed it to be part of your plan,¡± he said. ¡°It seemed to me a fitting punishment for the enemy, to let them be ripped to shreds rather than waste the silver of finding every single one of the monsters.¡±


    ¡°Sure you did,¡± David interrupted, to distract them from the bit about the silver. ¡°You forgot, didn¡¯t you? Every child in Loegrion knows this, and you forgot about it.¡±


    ¡°I met your brother, if you will recall,¡± deClare hissed at him. ¡°How could I possibly forget how good some of these monsters are at hiding?¡±


    David just grinned back at him.


    ¡°What else does every child in Loegrion know about werewolves?¡± Marshall Allard asked.


    ¡°Pardon?¡± deClare said.


    ¡°Clearly, we have not been told everything we should have been told,¡± the prince said. ¡°So what else should we know about these monsters?¡±


    ¡°They¡ªwell, there are rumours¡­but I¡¯m hardly an expert¡­Perhaps it should be him¡ª¡±


    ¡°He will be questioned later,¡± Allard interrupted him. ¡°Start simple, man!¡±


    ¡°Simple, of course. Simple.¡± DeClare still struggled with the question, glancing at David as if he was worried he¡¯d fail the examination. So David grinned at him, showing more teeth than necessary.


    ¡°Mithras have mercy,¡± Allard muttered. ¡°Is it true that the curse can only be spread by a werewolf¡¯s bite?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± deClare said. ¡°Except¡ªwell, at least one of them has had¡ªcubs, and they turned out monsters, too.¡±


    ¡°And they transform every full moon, for three days?¡± Allard went on.


    David tried to school his face into an impassive expression as deClare looked nervously back and forth between the Valoise and him.


    ¡°I¡ªbelieve so,¡± the lord finally said. ¡°They are gripped by madness during those nights. But they can transform every other night, too, I heard. So they are no less dangerous then. They are hardly all the same, though.¡±


    ¡°So how do they differ?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­they appear to have very different abilities. I heard that not all of the monsters present at Oldstone Castle transformed on the new moon. I do not know why that was. Some of them appear to have magical abilities, too. He knows more, no doubt.¡±


    David didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°How do we spot them?¡± the prince asked. ¡°Is there a way to spot them at all?¡±


    ¡°Silver, Your Highness. It¡¯s the only sure way I know of. City guards will have silver-covered sticks to touch to their skin. It¡¯s said to burn them, but I have not seen it for myself.¡±


    Thank¡ªthank the full moon that deClare didn¡¯t know much. David kept his face as impassive as he could. Unfortunately, deClare didn¡¯t have anything totally wacky to say. Didn¡¯t try to sell them that the sign of Mithras repelled them, or that alchemy stopped them from transforming, or anything like that. David wondered if he could feed them some bogus story, but then decided to keep his mouth shut.


    Not that they were looking for his input any longer. Or even paying attention.


    It wasn¡¯t until the marshalls ran out of question that they turned back to David. ¡°How does Your Highness wish to proceed with ¡®Lord Relentless¡¯?¡± Soto asked.


    The prince clasped his hands behind his back. The attempt at gravitas made David grin.


    So did the prince¡¯s words: ¡°We will follow Lord deClare¡¯s suggestion. It will allow us to observe the monsters during the upcoming full moon, seeing how they are already locked up anyway. We shall be able to judge the truthfulness of Lord Feleke¡¯s answers then. And if he does not wish to talk, the Inquisition will surely convince him.¡±


    That was slightly less amusing. But still. He was looking forward to deClare¡¯s face when the werewolves didn¡¯t transform tonight.


    DeBurg and Pettau were waiting for him when he was dragged back to the cell, hovering around the door looking worried. Fleur on the other hand was curled up in a corner of her cage, trying to protect herself from the other inmates.


    ¡°Oh, Mithras¡¯s flaming torch,¡± David growled, straining against his guards. ¡°Leave her alone, you morons! Nothing¡¯s going to happen tonight, but god help you if you force her to turn!¡±


    The pisscoats certainly weren¡¯t impressed. He hit his kneecaps when they threw him into the cage, the door crashing shut behind him. Underlining his words, he hoped.


    ¡°Nothing is going to happen tonight?¡± deBurg asked.


    David cursed and groaned, then managed a shrug. He was more interested in seeing how Fleur was doing. Alvin¡¯s ghost slunk around and out the cage¡ªchecking in on Fleur, too?


    ¡°It¡¯s full moon tonight, isn¡¯t it?¡± Pettau asked.


    David shrugged again. ¡°Nothing will happen to the people in Fleur¡¯s cage,¡± he said, loud enough that the frightened healers would hopefully hear him. ¡°I¡¯m not vouching for Port Neaf¡¯s safety. Just¡ªstay calm tonight.¡±


    He had barely finished speaking when outside the camp, the howl started up again.


    Great. That would calm everyone down.


    But at least the Valoise placed a guard next to Fleur¡¯s cage, to make sure the other inmates didn¡¯t try to kill her prematurely. And next to the other cages where fighting broke out.

 Chapter 181

    David was slightly surprised that the howling outside the camp didn¡¯t fade away as the shadows lengthened. He thought it even grew in volume, as if the wolves came closer to the camp¡¯s wooden walls. Thoko had told him about the way Greg had been more like a spooked wild animal on the final night of full moon in Deva, but surely, the presence of so many enemy soldiers would trigger the same violence as a hunter''s presence did? David had certainly never encountered a werewolf on any of the three full moon nights who hadn¡¯t instantly, blindly attacked.


    He glanced up at the sky again, scarlet red clouds bright against the ink dripping from the firmament. The moon was bright, and so was the evening star.


    Just a few more minutes until the sun slipped all the way beyond the horizon and whatever tempering influence it had would be gone. What was Rust doing? He wouldn¡¯t intentionally make the unsettled ones turn in their cages, would he?


    Surely, his and Ragna¡¯s presence as wolves was enough to push them over the edge?


    If it was them out there. David had to admit, it was equally possible that the elders had simply lost control over some of the unsettled ones.


    He got up and leaned against the cage¡¯s bars, trying to catch Fleur¡¯s eyes, but she was staring in the other direction, equally intent on something. Or someone: Just as David was about to call out to her, he spotted the soldiers walking up the path to the tents. They took position right in front of Fleur¡¯s cage¡ªeighteen soldiers, forming three lines, but further apart than firing lines would usually stand. Wide enough for three alchemists to walk between them, scattering some kind of powder onto the ground and onto their boots. It made Fleur sneeze, but didn¡¯t seem to do much else.


    Not that alchemy had ever stopped a werewolf.


    With the dust spread all over the ground, the soldiers moved aside, nine to the right and nine to the left, until there was an open space between them in front of Fleur¡¯s cage. At once, servants carried up a carpet, then a heavy, high-backed chair, placing it all on the road. David still blinked when the Levant and his escort walked up. The prince took the chair, once again bundled up in that ridiculous fur coat, while his high command and Lord deClare stood around him.


    Outside the camp, the werewolves howled. Inside the camp, servants brought grapes for the prince and his entourage to munch on, while they checked their pocket watches and consulted with a priest.


    Here to watch the show when Fleur turned and ripped her cell mates to pieces, David realised.


    ¡°Are you sure she¡ª¡± Pettau started, but was hushed by deBurg before he could finish.


    The servants finished pouring the wine just in time for the sun to fully disappear behind the horizon; David could tell the exact moment because Alvin¡¯s ghost was suddenly a lot brighter at his side and the howling outside the camp took on a new edge. Fleur shuddered. Somewhere inside the camp, a human screamed, high-pitched and terrified.


    Fleur blinked too fast, her face contorting, nose wrinkled and teeth bared¡ªthe prince leaned forwards eagerly in his chair and Marshall Soto gestured to an underling¡ª


    And Fleur sneezed violently, two, three, four times, before rubbing her nose and turning her back on them.


    At the expressions on the pisscoats¡¯ faces, David broke down, laughing so hard the only thing that stopped him from keeling over were the bars he leaned against.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Fleur muttered, wrapping her arms around herself.


    ¡°Well?¡± the prince demanded, turning to deClare. ¡°How long will it¡ª¡±


    He was interrupted by a howl. A howl so close it had to come from inside the camp, followed by humans screaming and what sounded like tents being torn apart: Ripping fabric followed by metal clanking and wood splintering. And then gunfire that made the howl turn into a whine.


    The eighteen Imperial Guards closed up around the prince at once, and their lieutenant was shouting for more soldiers.


    David stopped laughing, looking around, trying to see anything but the flickering flames of the torches burning everywhere. How many wolves were there?


    How many outside the cages, how many inside?


    Curse those damn flames; all he could make out were shadows moving between the tents, people running milling about in confusion. Finally, the alarm was sounded, and the milling about turned to running.


    A new group of Imperial Guards came running up the path.


    ¡°There are werewolves loose in the camp, Your Highness!¡± their breathless commander reported, yelling over the noise of the alarms and the gunfire. ¡°I have to insist we move to a safer space, Your Highness!¡±


    The prince stared back with such a wide-eyed expression of shock, David wasn¡¯t sure if he had even heard the words. Then the boy shook himself, visibly collecting himself, and nodded. The guards formed up around him, pushing away deClare and some of the lower ranking officers. Many of them had already reached for their sidearms.


    Then the first giant wolf came bounding down the path, running from a hail of bullets, crumbling before the Imperial Guards managed even one volley.


    Shot from behind.


    The soldiers that had killed the werewolf ran up to the group, closing ranks around their high command smoothly¡ªprofessional and well-trained in a way the Loegrian soldiers would need another year to reach. The whole group marched off, quickly but orderly, the officers now all shielded against a sudden attack even through the tents by their soldiers.


    ¡°Cavalry officer,¡± deBurg commented.


    When David turned to see what he was talking about, the marquis was leaning against the bars, staring at the dead werewolf. It still had one leg wrapped in fabric, including the blood-stained rank insignia.


    ¡°What do you reckon, he was on that attack on our supply train?¡± deBurg added, looking at David.


    ¡°Probably,¡± David confirmed, trying to remember how many men Ragna had said they had bitten. How many had been subsumed into this army?


    ¡°Listen,¡± Pettau whispered, when the howling began anew.


    It was softer, distant.


    David held the hand out, to make sure of the wind¡¯s direction. No hills to echo the sound, either.


    ¡°Port Neaf,¡± he concluded.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Pettau asked.


    ¡°Pretty sure,¡± David shrugged. ¡°You learn to be. Or you don¡¯t live long.¡±


    Not that any hunter was likely to live long on a night like this. He had barely finished speaking when the same, angry yowling started up in two other directions: much louder and answered by gunfire.


    David shifted around the cage. ¡°Fleur,¡± he called out, not bothering with quiet any longer. The Valoise had bigger things to worry about. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to know what the plan is?¡±


    Fleur turned towards him, he eyes too wide and fidgeting. She shook her head. ¡°Ragna and Rust are around,¡± she said. ¡°But human. I can feel them keeping our youngest ones in check. There¡¯s someone else¡ªI guess it¡¯s Calder? Pushing at all the first timers.¡±


    She closed her eyes. ¡°Someone very angry, too.¡±


    Hardly surprising, given what had happened last night at this time.


    ¡°Any chance of us breaking out tonight?¡± deBurg interrupted.


    Fleur shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know what the plan is.¡±


    ¡°They can ¡®talk¡¯ long distance through the howl,¡± David explained. ¡°But neither she nor the elders out there can become wolf tonight without turning all the way.¡±


    He let that hang in the air until the healers in Fleur¡¯s cage started backing away. Fleur fidgeted, too.


    ¡°So we¡¯re stuck waiting and watching,¡± deBurg summarized.


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    David nodded and listened to the guns barking in the distance. Muskets, he thought. Not that he was an expert on guns.


    ¡°I wish we actually could see anything,¡± Pettau muttered.


    It was indeed hard to tell what was going on. The cage had one wooden wall, steel-enforced, and on two walls it was closely flanked by more cages. The third side lookied onto the road through the camp, but on the other side were lines and lines of tents, blocking the view. There was shouting and gunshots on two sides, to the north and the east, by David¡¯s reckoning. A cannon roared once, then twice, followed by a silence that seemed to engulf the whole camp, as if it had been wrapped in blankets.


    Right until the bomb went off.


    David had been staring towards the north, so he saw the light first, blooming where he suspected the northern wall of the camp. The blink of an eye later he felt the sound, like a kick to the chest, sand and dust flying into his face. The tents rustled. Luckily, they were too far away to be hit with any bigger debris.


    ¡°That didn¡¯t sound like a werewolf,¡± deBurg commented.


    More gunshots followed the explosion. Gunshots and screams¡ªclearly, the Valoise were fighting more than a bunch of moon-mad monsters over there.


    ¡°Sounds to me like there¡¯s a plan,¡± David muttered. Either that, or Rust had declared a frontal assault on the camp? But for that, there didn¡¯t seem to be enough wolves tearing through the camp? Or had the Valoise secured the camp that well on all sides, in just a few days?


    The skirmishes seemed to drag on forever. Everytime he thought it was over, the fighting started up again in a different direction.


    ¡°Pssst, Lord Feleke.¡±


    David jumped and looked around wildly until he spotted a man in a Valoisian uniform in the shadows between the cages¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t a Valoisian soldier wearing the uniform.


    It was Rust.


    His eyes were glowing blue when he looked over his shoulder. An inhuman screech went up in the distance. David could only guess that it meant another dead werewolf.


    ¡°Quick,¡± Rust hissed, and a second man in an enemy uniform ducked around the cage. Another werewolf. David recognised one of his convicts. Gary was his name. A thief. Gary busied himself with the lock of the cage. David watched breathlessly, until the door swung open. DeBurg and Pettau both gave him the same wide-eyed look, but when he waved impatiently, they followed him out.


    There were more men and women with Rust, opening cages, dragging out prisoners, checking on the imprisoned werewolves.


    While deBurg and Pettau still climbed to the ground, Gary was starting on the lock of Fleur¡¯s cage.


    ¡°Lord Feleke,¡± Rust whispered. ¡°Calder will lead you out. Count deVale is waiting for you.¡±


    Calder waved at David briefly, then turned without a word and started walking towards the east.


    ¡°What about¡ª¡± David hissed, but Rust interrupted him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about anyone else, Sir! Go!¡±


    David considered arguing, but there was no time. He could only hope that Rust did indeed have some kind of plan as he jogged after Calder until he caught up. They quickly got off the main road, walking right through the formerly neat lines of enemy tents¡ªsome of them trampled, some still on fire, all of them abandoned as the soldiers were called up to defend the camp.


    They were direly needed, too, because the Valoise hadn¡¯t bothered to secure the eastern part of the camp¡¯s perimeter. They had placed tents almost all the way up to what little remained of Port Neaf¡¯s outer wall. Which was as holey as cheese. Worse, the ruined buildings of Port Neaf¡¯s outer districts offered the newly turned werewolves plenty of places to hide.


    Or escaping prisoners.


    But instead of trying to fight through the lines of soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, garding the camp, Calder checked a tent that wasn¡¯t smouldering, then waved at David urgently to get inside.


    ¡°What are we doing?¡± deBurg hissed, as soon as the tarpaulin fell closed behind them.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Calder said. ¡°Distraction.¡±


    ¡°What sort of distraction? Do you have another bomb?¡± deBurg asked.


    Calder glared at him, fidgeting nervously. ¡°No. Dominoes.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± deBurg hissed.


    Calder¡¯s face moved, but then he just waved the marques off, looking frustrated.


    ¡°How long do we wait?¡± David tried.


    ¡°Until,¡± Calder growled.


    He glanced out the tent, carefully, pulling back again. Walking up and down the small tent, stepping right onto the bedrolls on the ground. David stretched his own legs, in case they had to run in a moment.


    What he wouldn¡¯t have given for his crossbow. Or a pistol. A sword.


    Any weapon at all.


    One last line of soldiers they needed to get past. Duck into the destroyed outer district of Port Neaf, run south, towards the river. Pray to whatever god listened that Calder could protect them from the Rot even in human form.


    Or go north right away, hoping the pisscoats didn¡¯t get them.


    Instead, they waited around in the dark tent for whatever else this night would bring. David would have pressed for answers, except he wasn¡¯t sure if Calder even could speak right now. He wasn¡¯t the most talkative on an average night, and there was a full moon in the sky.


    Nearly full moon.


    Time dragged. The Valoise had taken his watch, so David had no idea how long they really hid until the tent flapped, and David had to stifle a scream. Pettau, too, pressed his hands to his mouth as Ragna ducked inside, followed by a bunch of prisoners.


    ¡°Good place,¡± she muttered. ¡°Lord Relentless.¡±


    ¡°Ragna, it¡¯s good to see you,¡± David whispered. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°Not much longer now,¡± she replied. ¡°We got three volunteers. They¡¯ll turn and bite soldiers at the heart of the camp, as many as they can. Then Rust and I and everyone else old enough¡¯s going to lean on the victims, push them over the edge. Any luck, they¡¯ll bite even more soldiers and so on.¡±


    ¡°Like dominoes,¡± David whispered. He shuddered. ¡°You can do that?¡±


    Ragna shrugged. ¡°Never tried. But they¡¯re bitten, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s just great,¡± deBurg groaned. ¡°What happens if it doesn¡¯t work?¡±


    Ragna¡¯s eyes glowed faintly blue. ¡°Then we sacrifice our own unsettled ones from the cages. Run them into the enemy. Slip out in the chaos.¡±


    David shuddered at the thought. He liked the first plan better.


    Just a little bit longer. Just a few more minutes. Then they¡¯d see.


    When it was finally time to move, there was no signal, no sign. Just Ragna and Calder¡¯s heads snapping up, and the blue glow around their eyes intensifying. Gunfire behind them. Pettau made for the tent¡¯s exit, but deBurg grabbed him.


    ¡°Wait for them to call the troops back!¡± he hissed.


    Ragna and Calder said nothing at all, heads bowed, sweat standing on their faces. David felt the magic faintly. Maybe they should have stayed closer to the centre of the camp, or wherever their three volunteers were sacrificing themselves to try and buy them time.


    Was it working? David really wanted to know, but he was scared of breaking Ragna¡¯s concentration¡ªor Calder¡¯s, for that matter.


    Something was certainly happening in the centre of the camp, and after another breathless minute, a trumpet blew a signal, calling the soldiers back from the perimeter. They jogged right past the tent, boots shaking the ground.


    David felt his heart beat high in his chest as he peered out the door, then waved at his companions. Calder pushed past him, eyes still blazing. The tight-lipped elder grabbed his hands and pulled him forwards, the rest of the freed prisoners following them. Ragna brought up the rear.


    There were still some soldiers staring at what was left of Port Neaf, the crumpled wall and the ruined buildings behind, the rubble barely visible in the light of a row of torches.


    One last line of soldiers they had to get past. They were fully focused on what was happening in the destroyed city, but that was sure to change as soon as the group tried to get past them. And they had guns, swords, bayonetts.


    Loegrion had werewolves.


    Right on cue, one of them stepped out between two ruins. The defenders fired without waiting for an order, but the wolf had already disappeared again.


    David didn¡¯t need Calder¡¯s tug on his arm to start running. Twenty seconds to reload. Twenty seconds to cross the five steps of final distance, sprint through the gaps in the line, pass the ten yards or so of open ground and throw himself into the nearest gap in the city wall. Get out of the way for Pettau to follow.


    David¡¯s right knee flared with a sudden pain as he stumbled blindly into the dark on the other side of the wall. His heart did not like this sudden exercise either, after all the days of being barely able to move. But he made it. The pisscoats fired just as Ragna dove at them. She cursed. The blue light in her eyes flickered and she grabbed her arm. The blood glistened even in the dark. David thought he saw fur sprouting over her face.


    She groaned, muttered something¡ªa foreign oath David didn¡¯t quite catch, then: ¡°Go! Go, go!¡±


    North, Calder went, ducking deeper into the outer districts of Port Neaf. The street was littered with debris and rubble, and they barely managed a jog, to avoid stumbling in the dark. Wherever the light from the camp fell, the guns could reach them too, so they had to dash from shadow to shadow and pray that Ragna could hold onto her human side despite the pain and the moon and the bloodloss.


    Calder stopped, holding out an arm so abruptly, David ran right into it. Before he could ask what was going on, a giant wolf stepped around a ruin, followed by a second one. They growled softly, but Calder just stood there, eyes glowing faintly. The two wolves came to sniff his face, and Calder held out his other arm, too, like a guardsman on the street directing traffic to stop.


    David heard the blood rush in his own ears, louder even than the musket fire and yelling of the enemy. Alvin¡¯s ghost stood by his right side, hackles raised in a silent growl, but the nervous tuck of the tail showed his nerves. Or David¡¯s own nerves? How much emotion did a ghost have?


    With a soft wine, the two wolves turned away, quickly disappearing into the darkness. Calder dropped his arms, waiting a few more seconds, before hurrying onwards.


    David wished he had his crossbow.


    He used to have nightmares about this¡ªof being stuck outside, on full moon night, without his crossbow or even a pistol. Getting lost in a forest full of werewolves with no way of protecting himself. He trusted Calder, trusted Ragna.


    He still wished for a weapon.


    They ran into Boris a little while later. Even in the darkness, David could see the fury on his face.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Fleur?¡± he growled.


    ¡°Rust,¡± Calder whispered back.


    So Boris waved them on impatiently, not moving. He did jump when Alvin¡¯s ghost went past him, but made no attempt to follow. David expected him to wait for Fleur and then go with her, but when Rust and Fleur, and a larger group of other prisoners caught up with them, Boris wasn¡¯t with them.


    When they left Port Neaf¡¯s outskirts, past the borders of the camp, they found traces of battles, dead and wounded soldiers, fallen by the dozen around the dead werewolves they had fought. There was a huge hole in the wall around the camp, and David thought he could see damages to the gates, too. His heart sank when one of them was opening anyway, revealing a line of cavalry. There was no way they could run away from the horses.

 Chapter 182

    One last time, the werewolves saved the escaping prisoners:


    When David and the rest of the group emerged from the ruined city onto the open ground, there was nowhere to hide. It had all been trampled during the siege to nothing but flat mud. Even in the dark, a signal sounded at once on the walls of the Valoisian camp.


    The and a group of light cavalry raced from the furthest gate. Ragna stopped, leaning her head back as if she wanted to startgaze. David felt the magic flare around her¡ªshe had to be on her last leg, too, surely?


    She still had enough power left to call in reinforcements. Three werewolves crested the hills in the north on her silent call, and two more came out of Port Neaf¡¯s ruins. A final one raced up from the shadow of the camp.


    Six werewolves, converging on the horsemen. He thought there might be as many as two hundred riders, each of them armed with a sabre and a carbine. And yet, when the six giant wolves appeared, racing to cut the cavalry off from their target, an urgent trumpet called them back.


    David faltered, stumbling in surprise. Pettau had to grab him to keep him upright.


    ¡°Keep going!¡± Ragna snarled, breathless, still holding her arm. She turned, keeping pace while walking backwards a few steps. David felt her struggling, but then she cursed and turned to run properly.


    The six werewolves howled, free of her influence, chasing after the riders. Right into the range of the muskets on the walls.


    ¡°Nononono,¡± Ragna gasped, tears running down her face. The glow of magic had almost left her eyes. Rust reached out as they jogged onwards¡ªwhen David glanced over his shoulder, two of the wolves had turned away.


    The other four were already dead.


    David stumbled again, and focused on moving, staring at the ground in front of him. Thanks to the werewolves¡¯ sacrifice, in the end, the hardest part of their escape was the running. After his concussion and five days of just sitting around, David¡¯s legs felt weak, and his pulse grew louder in his ears with every step.


    Finally, they crested the hill. He wanted to let himself fall forwards, to just roll down the other slope, but he kept going as fast as his tired legs would move. Tried to imagine it was Nathan in front of him. That the worst that would happen if he gave up was derision from his brother.


    Tired already, Old Man?, he heard Nathan¡¯s voice, jaunty and light.


    He was stuck so deeply inside his own head, he didn¡¯t even notice that everyone else was slowing down until he stumbled into Pettau¡¯s back and nearly took them both down.


    They had run into a larger group of Loegrian soldiers¡ªled by deVale. The count had his men take up formation around the escaped prisoners, and then they were marching again.


    One step after the other, David told himself. That was all there was to it. The moon above was already sinking again, touching the treetops of a small forest. Inside, the remains of their army was hiding. There were fires shining through the underbrush, and David had to suppress the urge to just throw himself onto the ground next to the closest one. There were very few soldiers around, considering the number of fires?


    Only when he heard a wolf howl in the distance and he reflexively looked around for the best tree to climb did he realised that that was exactly what most of the army had already done. They had dug in for full moon. Except that you couldn¡¯t dig in with werewolves around, because they were better at it than humans. So they had gotten off the ground.


    Smart.


    DeVale was giving orders, sending out sentries and waving over Ragna and Rust. David made himself walk after them, to listen in. A healer followed, too¡ªthe same man who had turned over Fleur hours ago. Awkwardly, the man patted his own arm, before pointing at Ragna¡¯s injury.


    ¡°May I¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll heal at sunrise,¡± she grumbled. ¡°Don¡¯t want human magic to get in the way.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps a bandage until then?¡± the healer offered.


    ¡°Will I need to sit down?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± the healer said.


    ¡°What¡¯s the count?¡± deVale asked, while the man busied himself, carefully rolling up Ragna¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Are these all?¡±


    Rust shook his head. ¡°No way to tell. Neville¡¯s group is still missing, and so are Jody¡¯s and Jerry¡¯s. Boris hasn¡¯t moved, either.¡±


    ¡°All right then,¡± deVale sighed. ¡°Lord Feleke, it¡¯s good to see you alive.¡±


    ¡°Is there any news from Deva?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s news you won¡¯t believe,¡± deVale growled. ¡°As a matter of fact, is that Lord Pettau I saw? Why don¡¯t you bring him over, Rust.¡±


    To David¡¯s surprise, Rust obeyed with a snappy salute, collecting two werewolves as he went. DeBurg protested loudly as they laid hands on Pettau, and followed as they dragged him away.


    ¡°Marques Pettau is complicit in the poisoning attack in Deva,¡± deVale explained. ¡°He is awaiting judgement. Lady Berenice Pettau apparently passed a test of faith on her innocence. I will need you to do the same, Lord Pettau, before I can let you walk around this camp unguarded.¡± He took a long breath, and added: ¡°According to yesterday¡¯s news, it doesn¡¯t look good for the sick.¡±


    The words felt like a physical blow, and David let himself stumble backwards, not listening to Pettau¡¯s surprised defense or deBurg¡¯s disbelief. He nearly fell into one of the campfires. Ungraciously, he sat down, just as a muted cheer went up at the edge of the camp.


    Another group had made it, led by another injured elder. Jerry was his name. Lee had found him in the mountains, after Greg nearly had his throat ripped out. Twelve years old and collapsing as soon as the two werewolves he had helped freed let go of him.


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    Rust hurried over.


    ¡°Back up, everyone,¡± he called. ¡°Humans! Give him space!¡±


    David could hear the wet sound of Jerry¡¯s breathing even over the noise of the camp. As soon as at least the humans had retreated, his body started changing. Rust stood over him, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck as soon as he got onto his four feed, leading him away, out of the camp and the forest, until they disappeared behind a hill.


    ¡°Lord¡ªLord Feleke?¡± a soft voice asked behind him, making him jump. Alvin¡¯s ghost wagged its tail in the corner of his vision.


    When David turned around, it was Millie standing behind him¡ªone of Alvin¡¯s original cell mates in Eoforwic. She was holding his sword, looking embarrased.


    Both swords, even the sabre in its silver sheath. She was holding it by the leather loop for the belt, careful not to touch the silver. And still, she had dragged it all the way here.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± David said, hurrying to relief her from the burden.


    ¡°Vigo has your crossbow, Sir,¡± she said softly, rubbing her hands against her dirty uniform. Which reminded David that he hadn¡¯t had a change of clothes in almost a week, too. He wished it were his hunting clothes, not the uniform.


    Vigo was one of the veterans. He had lost a hand to a bullet wound, and been lucky enough to get it back when he had been bitten. He hesitatingly stepped out of Millie¡¯s shadow and handed over David¡¯s crossbow with a gesture that bordered on reverence. He had brought the quiver, too, including the remaining five silver bolts.


    David checked the weapon over. It didn¡¯t look like the Valoise had had much interest in his crossbow, but the steel-tipped dowels he had put in before the battle were gone¡ªthey hadn¡¯t made it back into his quiver, either, if he wasn¡¯t much mistaken. Maybe the prince had tried the double crossbow out?


    David rubbed over the weapon. Dirty clothes or not, just holding it made him feel more like himself again.


    Vigo and a lot of the older werewolves retreated away from him, but Millie remained standing right in front of him. ¡°They killed Chandler and Clyde,¡± she said.


    David nodded. ¡°I saw it,¡± he said softly.


    ¡°You saw it?¡± Millie asked, rocking backwards.


    ¡°They made me watch, yes. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Millie nodded, fist clenched. Her gaze was piercing. ¡°What are you going to do now?¡± she wanted to know.


    David glanced at Alvin¡¯s ghost, stretched out on the ground. He thought of Bernadette, of Lorenz, barely older than Alvin, and looked up to Millie again.


    ¡°I intend to kill them all,¡± he said calmly into the sudden silence. ¡°I¡¯ll teach them to fear my name like the elders do. I¡¯m going to show them ¡®Lord Relentless.¡¯¡±


    All the werewolves within earshot were staring at him, waiting for more. When he didn¡¯t elaborate, Millie shuddered visibly and retreated, restless as all the other werewolves. They whispered to themselves, repeating his words, staring at Alvin¡¯s ghost as they restlessly moved about the camp.


    They didn¡¯t calm down until the first pale light of dawn slowly drowned out the moon light. The sun rose a few minutes before the moon set, and as soon as that happened, all around the camp, werewolves took off their clothes and went to sleep.


    The final group of escaped prisoners, led by Jody, arrived at the camp an hour later, some humans riding on the back of wolves. Only Boris marched alongside Jody, his face dark with hatred. Quivering with rage, David thought, even as the rest of the wolves slouched off to catch some rest.


    Jody¡¯s group had taken the long way around the camp, going south through the outer districts of Port Neaf and then chancing the Rot rather than dealing with the Valoise. Which was why it had taken them so much longer than everyone else to reach the camp. They were the biggest group, too. The surviving unsettled veterans that Ragna and Rust had used in the first diversionary attacks on the camp had followed the group, Jody not being strong enough to keep them at much of a distance, right until sunrise, when they had regained their human side.


    This final group put the number of surviving werewolves still with the army at just over two hundred. Ragna and Rust were certain that there were more survivors, but they hadn¡¯t stuck with deVale¡¯s forces. The somewhat older werewolves¡ªthose over two years old¡ªhad overwhelmingly stuck around. They had a higher rate of survival, too: There were still sixty-two of them left, of the original just over a hundred. Then there were nearly a hundred of the unsettled veterans, and the rest were those convicts who hadn¡¯t run off.


    Which meant the werewolf battalion was down to less than a fourth of its original number. Not necessarily down in strength quite that much, given that the elders were still there.


    ¡°Care to elaborate on that bold promise you made?¡± deVale interrupted his thoughts, sitting down next to him. DeBurg took the other side.


    David looked right and left between the two lords. ¡°Let¡¯s go for a walk?¡± he sighed.


    When he rose, deBurg and deVale followed, and Boris jumped to his feet, too, tail wagging.


    At least they¡¯d have a bodyguard.


    ¡°So,¡± deVale started again, as soon as they left the camp behind. ¡°You said you¡¯re going to kill the whole lot. I¡¯d love to hear how you¡¯ll pull that off. Given that they still outnumber us fifteen to one. And they can reinforce.¡±


    David smiled darkly. ¡°Numbers mean nothing to the Rot.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s crazy,¡± deBurg grunted.


    ¡°Werewolf hunters generally are, yes,¡± David said. ¡°Think about it, Marquess. If we are going to be rational about this, we have to surrender. Fifteen to one, and their troops are better trained, their officers are more experienced, and they¡¯ll figure out how to deal with the werewolves soon, too. If we¡¯re going to look at the odds and count the cost, then sacrificing our remaining two hundred werewolves is probably cheaper and certainly safer than to wager it all.¡±


    He waited, but neither deBurg nor deVale argued the point.


    ¡°But if we do that,¡± David went on, ¡°then we let them get away with whatever is happening at Deva right now. Picot sure as sunrise didn¡¯t dare to poison your wife and daughter, my mother¡ªDuke Stuard¡ªwithout the backing of the Roi Solei.¡±


    DeVale and deBurg still weren¡¯t saying anything, but David caught a glimpse of the marques¡¯s expression, and he was thinking about it.


    ¡°So you want us to trade all of Loegrion,¡± deVale said after a long moment. ¡°For revenge. And nothing else.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± David said. ¡°I want you to wager the heartlands¡ªhalf the heartlands, actually¡ªfor a chance to win it all. Revenge. Freedom from the Valoise. And a crown for whoever of us survives the war.¡±


    DeVale chuckled. ¡°You already have your lovely fianc¨¦e running the show in the capital.¡±


    ¡°And if you follow my plan, you can join her there inside a week,¡± David said. ¡°Take the army,¡± he added. ¡°The human army, what remains of it. March them north. Evacuate all the lands you come across, send runners to spread the word. Tell the people to go north, across the White Torrent, or south, across the Berrin River. Tell them I¡¯ll let the werewolves run rampant in the land between, or whatever gets them moving. Just get them out of the way.¡±


    ¡°And how are we going to hold the Berrin River?¡± deBurg asked.


    ¡°That will be your task,¡± David said. ¡°Go home. Take control of Southshire, and be ready for the refugees. Check the deClares and whoever else thinks they can do an endrun around us. I¡¯ll send you Calder and some younger werewolves to deal with the Rot as it arises.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re going to do what, exactly?¡± deBurg asked.


    ¡°You know what scorched earth means, don¡¯t you?¡± David asked back. ¡°They will march on Deva. And I will take the rest of the werewolves, and I will remind them why they should fear Loegrion.¡±


    He saw them think about it, both of them. DeVale was the first to nodd, then deBurg smiled grimly.


    ¡°You better send me some good fighters,¡± he said.

 Chapter 183

    The full moon rose above the forest, bright and round and beautiful. David stared at it from the top of the tree he had picked, as high up as he had dared to climb. Alvin¡¯s ghost had followed him up, which looked ridiculous as the gangly young wolf perched on a branch, but it also meant David had the tree to himself. Nobody had wanted to share with him and the ghost, even though Pettau and deBurg had shared a cage with the spirit for days. Maybe it was because the ghost looked almost solid in the full moon light. Like a statue made of quicksilver.


    The apparition behaved nothing like David would have expected a werewolf to behave on full moon night. It bounded from branch to branch, playful rather than aggressive, if restless. There was clearly a limit to how far it could move away from him.


    There was still no sign that it understood him, that there was any part of Alvin-the-boy left. David still talked to him all night, since there was little else to do while they waited for the moon to set.


    His arm itched faintly, like an old mosquito bite. Or maybe that was just in his head because he kept waiting for the silver lines on his skin to do something¡ªanything. But maybe their only effect was to anchor the ghost to him.


    He very much tried not to think about what was happening to the material werewolves down on the ground¡ªRust and Ragna most of all. They couldn¡¯t afford to lose their elders, but there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them from running straight into the Valoisian guns. And silver bullets or not, they couldn¡¯t heal themselves tonight.


    He tried to doze, but kept waking up. Sometimes, it was the faint echo of gunfire wafting up in the breeze, but mostly, he woke from the howling and barking of the wolves that kept chasing through the camp, yapping at the soldiers covering in the trees. David could only hope that the abundance of potential prey would keep most of the werewolves in the small forest, keeping them safe from the Valoisian guns¡ªand the surrounding villages save from the werewolves.


    Not that there should be too many people left in those villages.


    David didn¡¯t see Ragna or Rust until they limped into camp the next morning, well after most soldiers had dared to get back to the ground. Both of them were covered in blood. Ragna was still bleeding, a steady trickle from a wound in her back.


    Silver, as she confirmed amidst a string of profanity, but not enough to stop her from turning human. Enough to kill her in a day or three, if it wasn¡¯t removed.


    Luckily, the werewolves had saved enough surgeons to find one who was willing to dig the slug out from between her ribs. Even though she transformed into the giant wolf as soon as the procedure started.


    The doctor cursed and froze as Ragna whimpered and threw her head left and right. Then he stopped abruptly, to admire the way his new cuts had completely healed, leaving only the rough edges of the injury the silver bullet had ripped into Ragna¡¯s flank. David had to remind him of his job before he continued his work.


    At least he didn¡¯t seem stumped by the way the wound and muscles and bones had shifted in Ragna¡¯s transformation.


    The elder whined, a sound that stopped abruptly and came back as a groan as soon as the bullet dropped into the moss. The surgeon wrapped her in some makeshift bandages, and managed not to stare at her naked chest. David offered her his uniform jacket, which she took gratefully.


    ¡°Any chance of some food?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Some,¡± David said. ¡°Not much, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    DeVale¡¯s men had scoured the surrounding villages for food, requisitioning everything the farmers didn¡¯t hide fast enough, but after a week, there was little left. Another reason why the army would have to move, soon as full moon was over.


    David passed Ragna some of the dried bread of his own ration, while deVale sent some of his men out again as the sun climbed higher¡ªnot just to resupply, also to warn the farmers, to tell them to evacuate. Those that hadn¡¯t fled on their own.


    The werewolves rested, while the human soldiers prepared to march north, straight towards Deva, as soon as the sun rose tomorrow.


    David, in the meantime, borrowed one of the few remaining horses to go see how the Valoise had fared during the night.


    He took some time picking one from the very limited numbers of animals the Loegrian army had left. Boris trailed after him in his wolf-shape, claiming that he couldn¡¯t sleep, anyway. Which was helpful to test the horses¡¯ reaction.


    Eventually, David settled on a dark brown gelding that eyed the huge wolf with interest but little fear. When David climbed into the saddle, deVale and deBurg brought their own mounts over. It was probably foolish of the three of them to ride together, even with the small entourage that was going to follow them. David didn¡¯t feel like arguing with the other two lords, though.


    They didn¡¯t take the direct way back towards the enemy, swinging further inland, to hopefully fool any enemy outriders. It also meant doubling the distance¡ªwhich still wasn¡¯t bad now that it was light. They rode southwest until they reached a road and and let the horses trot towards Port Neaf. There was a breeze coming in from the sea, and seagulls cried overhead. The sun was quite strong, though, making David wish he could jump into the waves, uniform and all.


    At least it didn¡¯t look like they would have to worry about the weather any time soon.


    DeVale had clearly been thinking in a similar direction. ¡°You won¡¯t even have a tent,¡± he pointed out. ¡°Are you sure about this plan?¡±


    No, David wanted to say. Riding through the early summer landscape made the enormity of what he was planning dawn on him. This were the heartlands. The road was lined with lush green pastures, and in the distance, he saw fields where the winter barley was awaiting the harvest.


    And he was planning to destroy it all.


    Such was war. If he didn¡¯t do it, the Valoise surely would. And they wouldn¡¯t stop when they got to the river.


    ¡°You could leave it to the werewolves,¡± deVale added when David didn¡¯t say anything.


    David thought of Fenn, faithfully guarding the White Torrent¡¯s wellspring, of Bernadette, burned at the stake. Of Ragna, shot with silver. She hadn¡¯t asked to return to Deva until the wound was healed.


    ¡°Someone has to do it,¡± he said.


    ¡°Rather you than me,¡± deBurg grumbled. ¡°Though I reckon neither of us has an easy road ahead.¡±


    DeVale threw the older Lord a glance that said fairly clearly he thought deBurg had the easiest road ahead¡ªwhich David thought might be true. But aloud, the count asked: ¡°What would you do if the palace surrenders before I get there?¡±


    David shuddered at the thought. He really hoped Lane would prevent that. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t change much,¡± he said aloud. ¡°Capitulation or not, if the Valoise can¡¯t get their army to Deva, they¡¯ll never control more than the southern coast.¡±


    DeVale mulled that over. ¡°It might make you an outcast.¡±


    David laughed about that. ¡°You think setting the heartlands on fire won¡¯t? Hells, if Duke Stuard lives, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he exiles me for what I¡¯m going to do.¡±


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    He shouldn¡¯t have said that. Suddenly, he had both deVale¡¯s and deBurg¡¯s full attention.


    ¡°Whatever did happen between the two of you?¡± deBurg asked.


    David sighed. ¡°I was friends with Clarence d¡¯Averc and Lester Villeroy. I don¡¯t know if you remember them. They were stoned for blasphemy about, oh, twelve years ago now. Duke George Louis himself handed their scripts over to the church. I used to think he¡¯d turn me over, too.¡±


    ¡°Playwrights, weren¡¯t they?¡± deBurg said slowly. ¡°I do remember them.¡±


    David nodded.


    ¡°Wait¡ªyou mean the two fools who shared their sartire about the Roi Solei with like a dozen other young nobles?¡± deVale grunted. ¡°They invited me, too. I went once and fell out the door backwards. They must have had a deathwish.¡±


    ¡°I guess so,¡± David said softly.


    He was surprised to realise that it barely hurt anymore.


    ¡°You were a member of their little club?¡± deVale asked.


    ¡°For a time, yes,¡± David lied. It was easier than explaining why exactly he feared George Louis might turn him over to the inquisition.


    ¡°An interesting hobby, for a werewolf hunter,¡± deBurg noted.


    Thankfully, the landscape changed around them at those words, so David didn¡¯t need to answer. They entered a small copse of trees, and David rubbed his head. He glanced at Boris, who had trotted after them without comment. Treesap and something else was in the air.


    The trees thinned abruptly¡ªhalf the little forest had been clear-felled, probably to produce wood for the palisades the Valoise had pulled up. The ground beyond was trampled by hundreds of boots, killing the grass there and leaving behind a mudflat.


    ¡°I wonder if they salted this,¡± deVale said. ¡°I¡¯d have expected the Rot to rise from this?¡±


    Salt. Or some other kind of alchemy, Boris confirmed, wrinkling his nose.


    With the trees cut down, it was a lot harder to get within visual range of the camp without being spotted themselves. They had to leave the horses behind and follow below the ridge of the hill, ducking low. DeVale, luckily, had his long glass still, so they didn¡¯t need to get too close. Once they spotted the palisades in the distance, they robbed the rest of the way forwards on their bellies, barely raising their heads above the mud.


    DeBurg swore softly next to David, muttering something about how his people wouldn¡¯t even recognize him when he got home. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re used to this,¡± he finished, glaring at David, as if any of this was his fault.


    David didn¡¯t say anything. On the one hand, he was, yes, but crawling through the mud would never be his idea of a good time no matter how often he did it.


    ¡°See the smoke?¡± deVale asked.


    A dark grey plume was rising from a mound outside the camp. David didn¡¯t need a long glass to guess what it was.


    ¡°Burning their dead?¡± he asked. ¡°Let me guess: werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Bodies for sure,¡± deVale confirmed. ¡°What makes you think they¡¯re werewolves?¡±


    ¡°The fire is outside the camp. They want us to see this. They wouldn¡¯t want us to know their casualty numbers for their regular soldiers.¡±


    ¡°Sound reasoning,¡± deBurg muttered.


    ¡°Well, they look human enough from here,¡± deVale said. ¡°And it¡¯s a lot of bodies. I don¡¯t remember the werewolf captains sending quite this many to their deaths.¡±


    ¡°Must be the soldiers that got bitten during the fighting,¡± David said grimly. ¡°Took them long enough to figure out how to test them. I wonder if they found them all.¡±


    They probably had, he thought. The incentive to be thorough was very strong, after all. And they probably had the silver to spare, too.


    ¡°How many bodies do you reckon are there?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Hard to say with all the wood stacked in between,¡± deVale said slowly, ¡°but I think I do see a wolf in the pile. Here,¡± he added, handing over the long glass. ¡°See for yourself.¡±


    David fumbled around with the glass for a bit, trying to get a clearer image. There was indeed a pile of bodies piled up outside the camp, in the process of being burned. Maybe that was were all the wood had gone? It certainly wasn¡¯t burning well. The smoke was dark grey and he saw barely any flames, even when he got the spyglass adjusted right.


    He did think he saw shaggy black and grey fur, but there was no way of telling if it was a werewolf he knew or a stranger.


    Dominoes.


    There weren¡¯t nearly as many dead bodies as he would have hoped, but still, losing men like that had to be poison for morale. How many unsettled werewolves had Ragna and Rust sacrificed? Three volunteers and a handful more to back them up? So a dozen at most. Whereas the Valoise had lost, what, a hundred? Maybe as many as two hundred men?


    If only they had enough werewolves to do it again, over and over.


    Fifteen to one, deVale had said. If only all their men were werewolves¡­


    David shuddered. Even then, they would lose. They had caught the pisscoats by surprise once. It wouldn¡¯t happen that way again.


    ¡°They¡¯ve fixed the walls and the gates,¡± he noted, turning the spyglass away from the gruesome pile of bodies. He swung it further away. ¡°More sails out at sea, too.¡±


    ¡°A bit early for reinforcements,¡± deVale noted. ¡°Must be supplies.¡±


    ¡°You sure you want to stay behind and fight that?¡± deBurg asked. Again. ¡°You could just go back to Deva. Take the werewolves, too. I¡¯ll take more than ten, too, truth be told. We conscript more forces of our own, look for volunteers or just chose more werewolves. Face the Valoise with a city at our back.¡±


    David shook his head. ¡°We can¡¯t. You know we can¡¯t. We¡¯d struggle to raise an army half as large as theirs, and it still would be soldiers green as grass.¡±


    He handed the spyglass back. ¡°No. It has to be this way. And one of us has to be here.¡±


    And it had to be him.


    ¡°If the people insist on calling me Lord Relentless, I should better show them what that name actually means.¡±


    They robbed backwards, curiosity satisfied. Well, mostly.


    ¡°Shame we can¡¯t get a look into the camp itself,¡± David sighed as he straightened up, savely behind the ridge. ¡°I¡¯d like to know what the morale is like at this point.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it changed much,¡± deBurg said. ¡°An army this big? And they know we¡¯ve wasted our best shot when we failed to stop them from taking the harbour.¡±


    David shuddered as he tried to get some of the mud off his clothes. ¡°I wish I had my leather gear,¡± he grumbled. At least that would have been easier to clean.


    He¡¯d have to steal some farmer¡¯s clothes, soon as they got moving. Something sturdier than the uniform. But first¡­


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± deVale asked, as David swung the crossbow off his back.


    David ignored him, staring up towards the birds that were riding on the breeze, sea gulls and crows, drawn in by the carnage just out of sight. He shot first one, then a second one.


    ¡°Mithras,¡± deVale cursed when one of them came down just a few yards away.


    David picked them both up and quickly cut their throats. Then he removed the bolts for future use and held them upside down, shaking them a little to spread the blood onto the ground as far as he could.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± deVale asked, now with a hint of panic in his voice.


    ¡°I want to see how good their alchemy is. Boris, stand back a little, will you?¡±


    ¡°Are you mad, man?¡± deBurg snapped, jumping back as the giant wolf retreated.


    David smiled grimly, levering two more bolts into position, and aiming upwards again. ¡°If nothing else, they¡¯ll make for good eating,¡± he said, and took down two more.


    Don¡¯t spread it out so far, Boris said. Let it gather.


    ¡°Right you are,¡± David said, and held these two carcasses together over one of the indentations his boots had made in the ground. There wasn¡¯t a lot of blood in two birds, but if formed just the faintest puddle.


    That¡¯s more like it. Smell that? Boris asked.


    There was a faint wiff in the air, but nothing more.


    We should go, Boris added. You carry too much silver, and I¡¯m not exactly weak tea, either.


    ¡°You think this is enough?¡± David asked.


    I think that¡¯s the most you¡¯ll get out of a few birds. Unless you want to stand around and shoot a whole flock down. We can come back if we find a deer. Boris shook himself and added: Might not have to, though.


    He was right, wasn¡¯t he? There was something stirring at the bottom of the puddle. David shuddered and stepped back as Boris had said.


    As deBurg and deVale hurried ahead, David kept glancing over his shoulder. It wasn¡¯t until they reached the horses and climbed back into the saddle that there was movement. Or was it movement? Or just a flickering of light in the air? Something he wanted to see?


    You did it, boss, Boris commented. His not-voice sounded dry to David. Congratulations. Now let¡¯s get out of here.

 Chapter 184

    The bulk of what remained of Loegrion¡¯s regular army marched out the next day as soon as the sun was all the way up, to make the most of the long days and what protection from the Rot they offered. Calder and the eleven settled ones David had picked out for deBurg, too, set out with the marquis towards Southshire, to hopefully take back control of the south of Loegrion¡ªor at least stop Southshire from being taken over, too.


    David in the meantime, split his forces, sending them out in groups of ten to twenty, each led by a settled werewolf two years or older. Then he joined the final group moving out himself, Boris once again by his side.


    And so they spread out, like a plague across the countryside. Coordination was easy, thanks to the werewolves¡¯ ability to know where the others were. Not that it would hurt if they visited the same place twice. At worst, they¡¯d find nothing. Which would actually be a good thing to find, because it meant the people had already fled.


    The first village they came to was, in fact, deserted. It had been plundered, too. David couldn¡¯t tell if it had been deVale¡¯s foragers or maybe a Valoisian raiding party. There were no bodies around, so it had probably happened after the people had fled. The werewolves still searched the place. All they found were a couple of geese and a sheep that had probably been overlooked when the people had fled.


    The werewolves killed them all, and spread the blood over the fields. Killed the cat, too, that wandered back into the place, oblivious. Then they ate the sheep.


    The geese they carried with them as provisions.


    The dead cat they left behind.


    All that was left then was making sure that the Valoise couldn¡¯t find anything useful in the empty houses. This final task was carried out by the youngest of the group, a group of four veterans who handled both fire and blackpowder with a reassuring ease. The dry, thatched roofs of the farm buildings didn¡¯t need much in the way of a firestarter.


    The farmers had fled south, which would hopefully take them out of the way of the Valoise¡ªprovided the pisscoats made straight for Deva. David busied himself with his matches, setting fire to a dry brush leaning against the central house, before taking the werewolves west. When he looked back over his shoulders after a few minutes, there was smoke rising against the clear blue sky, and a grim smile stole onto his face.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see the Valoise fight this,¡± he muttered to himself.


    They passed through two more villages like this, both of them empty except for some escaped livestock. They killed the animals in the fields, took whatever food they found and could carry, and set fire to the rest. It was grim and gruesome work, made worse by the heat of summer. And quite frankly, it was boring.


    At least until they reached the first village that hadn¡¯t been deserted.


    David took a deep breath when the small settlement came into view. The band of werewolves had been spotted, too. He could hear the people scream even from a distance¡ªeighteen werewolves tended to have that effect on people. There wasn¡¯t even a token wall around the grouping of buildings, this being the heartlands. The farmers here didn¡¯t get bothered by the Rot or werewolves.


    Usually.


    Today would be an unpleasant surprise.


    David rode down the road into the village a couple of yards ahead of the rest of the pack, but they all followed him right into the heart of the place. Men and women and children gathered to stare at them.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± David yelled, ¡°Loegrion is at war! You¡¯ve been warned! The Valoisian army is on the move, so pack whatever you can carry and leave! Today, we will raise the Rot on your fields! I am not joking!¡±


    He didn¡¯t wait for them to protest or to ask him why. He didn¡¯t have time for this. It had been three days since the Valoise had landed, and they were barely a half day away from Port Neaf. There was no way these people didn¡¯t know what was going on, was there?


    ¡°Show them, Boris,¡± David sighed. ¡°Harris. Show them.¡±


    He stayed at the well in the middle of the village and watched the two burly wolves break down the doors, which caused more screaming.


    Not that the werewolves were interested in the people. It was the livestock they dragged out of the barns and cages, and out into the fields. They butchered the cows and pigs and goats, anything that moved and wasn¡¯t human, right in the middle of the winter wheat and the summer barley. The sheep they killed where they stood on the pastures, and only chased off the panicked sheep dogs.


    Not that the Rot would spare those.


    An escaped chicken fluttered right into David. He grabbed it out of the air and broke its neck, trying to ignore the crunching sound. It went limp in his hands, and he cut off the head, then tossed it straight into the well.


    An old woman gasped as he did, staring at him from a window.


    ¡°This is your last chance!¡± David hollered at her. ¡°The Rot won¡¯t move as long as the werewolves are in the area! Grab what you can carry and go south, past the Berrin River! Southshire is protected!¡±


    He could smell it already, over the sickly sticky smell of the blood. The only thing keeping the Rot in the ground right now were the sixteen werewolves all around.


    ¡°But where will we go after?¡± a man asked from the side, worrying his hands. ¡°After the war?¡±


    ¡°I would worry about surviving the war first,¡± David replied. ¡°And anyway, we¡¯ll be cleansing the rivers after the war, from the Savre all the way down to the Berrin, from the coast all the way to the Abhain. Go south!¡± he repeated.


    Finally, people started moving. The werewolves hadn¡¯t butchered all the oxen yet, so a couple of carts were filled with people and their belongings, crates full of chickens, dogs. It all took too long and the carts moved too slow. David had slim hopes that they would make it all the way to the Berrin River before the Rot ran them down.


    And there was nothing he could do about it.


    They could have moved three days ago.


    He thought he could hear Clermont¡¯s voice in the back of his head: ¡°You do realize that we¡¯re at war with the bloody Empire, don¡¯t you?¡± the old general growled at him.


    What would the old man think if he could see him now? Was he still too nice?


    But he couldn¡¯t murder his own people, as annoyed as he was with them. Even though it might be the kinder alternative to leaving them to the Rot.


    Sun, he felt dirty.


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    The werewolves went into the houses as soon as soon as the people were gone, to check for more food. David waited until the carts were out of sight before he too, went inside so see if he couldn¡¯t nick some clothes. The farmers had to have some decent leather, right? Maybe there was even someone who had hunting rights in the area?


    He picked the biggest farmstead, on the basis that it probably belonged to the richest farmer and came with the best chance of finding something useful. And indeed, he found a sturdy knapsack and filled it with clean underclothes, some bed linnen for bandages, a spare knife, whetstones and fire starter, a couple of jars of preserve, a fishing line and hooks, a small axe. A thick, quilted blanket for the nights.


    In a small side room, probably a farmhand¡¯s sleeping place, he found some well-worn but clean leather trousers, a shirt and a jerkin to wear over the shirt. In the next building, he found a warm woolen hood, and in the third house, finally a leather jacket that fit him properly. He dropped the remains of his impractical major¡¯s uniform on the spot, and changed into the new clothes.


    When he slung his crossbow onto his back, he finally felt like himself again. Like a hunter.


    Boris bared all his teeth at him when David emerged. Lord Relentless, he commented.


    ¡°Go eat something,¡± David told him.


    The rest of the pack was already feasting. They would eat their fill, and take as much as they could carry with them of what remained. Most of the carcasses would still get left behind.


    Well, one they dumped into the little creek running past the village.


    ¡°All right, that¡¯s it, everyone,¡± David called them together. ¡°Let¡¯s set it on fire, and we¡¯re off to the next village!¡±


    The veterans tossed the burning logs from the farmers¡¯ own wood ovens up. There would have been booze, too, but that had quickly vanished inside the various packs.


    David waited at the exit of the village until the heat washed over him, to make sure the whole place went. Only when all the houses were ablaze did he spur his new horse to catch up to the older werewolves, who had hurried ahead. The skin on his back crawled as he turned his back on the village. A thick stink rose from the dead animals spread around the fields, overpowering even the smoke, and he knew the Rot would be moving as soon as the werewolves were out of sight.


    Alvin¡¯s ghost growled soundlessly at something David couldn¡¯t see just yet, moving stiffly and the scruffy fur in his neck bristling.


    Off to the next village.


    They overtook the carts with the bulk of the fleeing villagers after less than half an hour of quick riding¡ªor jogging in the case of the wolves. The people stared at them full of terror. David did his best to ignore the way they were eying him, specifically. He hoped the previous owners of the clothes he now wore weren¡¯t among the fleeing farmers.


    And then they were past the small trek. A little while later, they reached the fields surrounding the next village¡ªbarley, ready for harvest to the one side, sheep on the pastures on the other. So either the shepherd had left his herd behind, or the people were still there.


    They did have the wind at their back.


    ¡°Hang on,¡± he called to the rest of the group. ¡°Let¡¯s burn this field. Maybe it¡¯ll show the owners we¡¯re really serious a little faster.¡±


    And the Rot wouldn¡¯t get the harvest, either. Maybe it would give the refugees behind them a chance to escape.


    Probably not.


    His veterans shrugged and reached for their lighters. From the way they promptly formed a line along the northern edge of the field, David reckoned this was a familiar order to any experienced soldier.


    The flames caught fast in the dry crops, and the wind drove them south towards the village, as David had hoped. The people there had to notice the smoke, right? He expected someone to come running, given that they were destroying people¡¯s livelihoods, but no one showed their face. When they entered the village, it became clear why: the hamlet was already in the process of evacuating. Children shrieked and cried when the werewolves strolled down the main road, but the adults seemed resigned to see them. Most likely, someone from the nearby villages had warned them.


    It meant the people had slightly more time to pack. The oxen were already before the carts, and the chicken were inside small crates. At least one cart was filled with sheep rather than people, and an old woman glared at David as she led a single cow away, setting out ahead of the crowd, a heavy pack on her own back. A young boy tried to drive a flock of geese after her, and there was a family driving three big sows, too.


    David rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Kill the geese,¡± he told Boris. ¡°Leave him a couple. Leave them one sow. Kill any livestock that isn¡¯t moving already or on a cart.¡± He considered that and added: ¡°Let the horses live, too.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t even sure if he was doing these people a favour, leaving them any animals at all. The Rot would be all over them if they didn¡¯t move fast enough.


    He watched Boris take down a couple of geese, and rode forwards to collect them. One went into the well, the other into a shallow pond at the edge of the village. He shot the ducks sitting fat in the water for good measure.


    For once, they wanted the Rot nice and well-fed, and all the water undrinkable. To hopefully torment the Valoisian army rather than Loegrian farmers.


    The looting was over faster this time¡ªthere was less stuff left behind, and the packs were full already, anyway.


    The flames seemed to reach for the sun when David turned his back on another luckless place.


    They raided a single farmstead on the way to the final settlement for tonight. It was the biggest and richest one, and the people there apparently felt especially lucky: they opened fire on the werewolves from behind the meagre protection of an overturned cart on the main road.


    ¡°What a waste,¡± David muttered. Louder, he called: ¡°Hold your fire! Or I¡¯ll send in the werewolves!¡±


    ¡°This is Loegrion! We¡¯re not scared of monsters!¡± someone yelled back.


    ¡°Idiots,¡± David sighed. ¡°Boris, feel any silver?¡±


    ¡°No, Sir. Want me to kill them, or just bite them, Sir? Doesn¡¯t seem likely they¡¯ll want to join up, does it?¡±


    ¡°Just bite them,¡± David said. ¡°They can be another surprise for the pisscoats. If they run, let them go.¡±


    Or the refugees. Or for Lord deBurg, if they made their way to Southshire. Hopefully, Calder would sniff them out if they did.


    ¡°As you say, boss,¡± Boris said, grinning as he shrugged out of the clothes he, too, had looted just this evening.


    Stark naked he walked down the road, which apparently confused the defenders so much, they forgot to fire until he was almost upon them.


    ¡°Six muskets at the most,¡± one of the veterans commented when they opened fire.


    Boris staggered, turning wolf at the spot and tearing into the people out of sight. A young man stumbled out from behind the overturned cart, throwing his musket away. At least one of the defenders had more brawns though, if not a whole lot of brains. David heard a pistol fire, followed by an unholy screech from Boris. And then a howl¡ªcoming from a human throat, if David was any judge. A musket came flying out from behind the cart, followed by a pistol and what David thought was a sword. More humans were fleeing, backing away from the werewolves and each other.


    David nudged his new gelding forwards, towards the barrier. It really was just one overturned cart. What a waste of time. The people living here could have packed that cart and be well on their way towards Southshire.


    Instead, they had tried to fortify a village that didn¡¯t even have proper walls, had lost one of their carts in the process, and some of their men, too. Not to even think about the time.


    ¡°You know the drill, everyone,¡± David said as the werewolves fell in next to him.


    They jogged past him into the settlement proper, while David checked on Boris and the people who had tried to fight him.


    ¡°If you¡¯ve gotten bitten, feel free to join up,¡± he told them. ¡°Otherwise, get the hells out of here. The Valoise or the Rot will be here soon, and they won¡¯t kill just your animals.¡±


    He didn¡¯t wait for an answer¡ªeither they would stick around, or they wouldn¡¯t. He was tired, and so were the werewolves, he reckoned. Or maybe they were just starting to develop a routine¡ªthey were setting the houses on fire before the people were fully out of the village.


    At least it sped everything up.


    ***


    It was getting dark when the werewolves gathered again, in an abandoned farmstead. Whoever had lived here had left quickly and without resistance. Ragna and her group had found the place deserted and returned after finishing off their allotted villages. When David rode into the yard, a huge bonfire was burning there, with pieces of meat skewered up to roast in the flames. There was a little creak, too, which they hadn¡¯t spoiled with a carcass yet. Instead, someone had blocked it to form a little pond.


    So in the mild summer night, David climbed into the water for a thorough wash. Then he had freshly grilled pork for dinner. And then he climbed into the attic of the farmhouse and kicked over the ladder, in case one of the unsettled werewolves went rabid overnight. While all around, the Rot rose, and no doubt, people were dying, he went to sleep surrounded by werewolves. To finally get some proper rest.

 Chapter 185

    The old throne room of Deva Castle was shrouded in shadows despite the sun just rising outside, with not even a candle burning in the holders. The heavy curtains covering the windows hadn¡¯t been opened in a long time. The whole room smelled slightly of dust. Duke Desmarais, like his father before him, had never used the place¡ªthere was no real reason to. It was smaller than the Great Hall or the Grande Gallerie, and the throne itself was not particularly comfortable. Also surrounded by a strange marble bannister which was open up front, allowing one person at a time to approach the chair on its marble steps.


    There was a portrait of the Roi Solei sitting in the seat, so dusty it was hard to recognize.


    George Louis ran a hand over the bronze back of the chair. The throne wasn¡¯t even particularly good looking. At least not by modern standards. Perhaps it had been more impressive back when it had been carved in the middle ages: a large block of marble formed the seat, smoothly polished, but with no other decorations. Just a big, squat block of marble, with a metal back topped with arm- and backrests made of incongruous delicately worked bronze, showing a beautiful tree motif. The red velvet pillow that was the only nod to comfort was faded and threadbare, with the line of the portraits¡¯s frame probably forever embedded.


    George Louis found himself looking furtively over his shoulder, as if there were anyone around at the crack of dawn, before taking down the portrait. Just holding the wooden frame made his breath catch with effort, and his hands shook. He put it down quickly and slipped onto the crusty pillow.


    It was every bit as hard and crumbly as he had expected. The backrest wasn¡¯t restful at all, and the armrests were too high and awkwardly sloped, so he couldn¡¯t really put his arms there, either.


    Maybe it was time to get rid of the whole thing.


    In a minute. Once he had caught his breath again.


    George Louis rubbed the spot underneath his ribs where the healer had said his liver sat. Not that he could feel it. In fact, that was the one part of his body that didn¡¯t still hurt, despite the healer¡¯s efforts.


    And the she-wolf¡¯s help.


    The she-wolf who had saved first Lady deLande, and now him¡ªand so many others.


    George Louis sighed and pushed himself out of the dreadful excuse of a chair. David would be so smug about the bloody Morgulon. Or maybe he¡¯d just roll his eyes and not even say anything. That would be worse, actually, that quiet¡ªnot even disappointment. Resignation maybe?


    The belligerence was familiar and even quite fun at times. But the way David would just fall silent sometimes, or change the topic, as if he didn¡¯t even consider it worth the effort of an argument¡ªthose were the moments when George Louis felt the rift between them most painfully.


    As long as David made it back alive.


    George Louis grabbed the back of the chair with both hands, to steady himself. To feel so weak, so shortly before the end¡ªwhen he could literally put his hands on the throne!


    But if he had to choose, right now, between the crown and David, alive and hale by his side, he was no longer sure which he would pick. It was a distraction he really didn¡¯t need.


    No, that was a lie. He knew which he would choose: the dream of a Loegrian crown had been too long in the making to give it up now. A dream that too many people had dreamt, not just him. Whatever David might think, this wasn¡¯t just about him. And he¡¯d have to choose the good of the many over his own feelings. The same way David would choose the werewolves¡¯ lives over him, if it came to it.


    If only there hadn¡¯t been that hope, that thought that maybe, just maybe, he could have it all.


    A collector, as David had said.


    George Louis sighed and patted the bronze one last time. He¡¯d have to get a new throne commissioned. Maybe he¡¯d have an artist put a wolf on it. That would fit with the tree motif, right? Keep a nod to the old, and add the new reality. Even if the new reality was werewolves.


    And one day, his skin would stop crawling and his heart wouldn¡¯t race when he saw the giant wolves pad around the palace. But that day wasn¡¯t today.


    Today, he jumped when she slunk inside, the one who had saved his life. The one with the scars marring her face. She was staring at him with huge golden eyes over jaws that could snap his leg like a twig. David kept saying that they were just like humans, but that had to be a lie. If a human had been burned and hunted and shot and then given the power to turn invisible and walk through fire, they wouldn¡¯t have come back to save first one, and then another one of their tormentors.


    And yet, here she was. The Morgulon.


    She tilted her head at him quizzically, then turned her back on him, waving her tail slowly, glancing at him over her shoulder.


    George Louis pointed at himself. ¡°You¡ªwant me to come with you?¡±


    She nodded, the motion comically exaggerated. Maybe that was just because her head was the size of a horse¡¯s.


    Right.


    ¡°Follow where?¡± he asked, before he remembered that she couldn¡¯t tell him.


    She just tilted her head at him again, then walked a step, checking to see if he was coming.


    She¡¯d saved his life, had saved him when there was absolutely nothing he could have done to defend himself¡ªwhen just doing nothing would have killed him, and at great personal exertion, too. Killing him, even hurting him now would make no sense whatsoever.


    It was the only thing that made him follow her. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that she knew it, too.


    ¡°Where¡± turned out to be into the arms of Lady deLande. Or at least into the same hallway as she was walking down.


    ¡°Duke Stuard,¡± she said, bobbing up and down in a courtesy. Stiffly formal like David had suddenly become. George Louis couldn¡¯t help but wonder which one of them was copying who.


    ¡°Thank you, Morgulon,¡± deLande added. ¡°You phyisician was most worried when you weren¡¯t at the infirmary, Your Highness.¡±


    She folded her hands behind her back, standing ramrod straight. He¡¯d thought she did that around him because she didn¡¯t like him¡ªwhich was fair enough, he supposed. Now he recognized it as just her way of carrying herself when she felt there were eyes on her.


    ¡°You were looking for me?¡± George Louis asked. ¡°It¡¯s quite early.¡±


    ¡°The clerks you lent me have finished analysing Pettau¡¯s and deVries¡¯s correspondence, Your Highness. I would not have bothered you with the results at this early hours, except the Royal Healer informed me that you had left the infirmary.¡±


    George Louis had a sinking feeling when he saw her face. He¡¯d left that investigation in her hands, given the phenomanal job she had done so far. Moreover, it hadn¡¯t really felt important any longer, with the three traitors locked up.


    ¡°I take it they found something,¡± he sighed.


    ¡°I believe we might better discuss that behind closed doors, Your Highness. Unless you''re ready to return to the infirmary?¡±


    When he shook his head, she led the way, kindly stopping at the base of the stairs to give him time to catch his breath before the climb without commenting on it. And then again when they had reached the top. He managed the rest of the way to David¡¯s office¡ªdeLande¡¯s office now, he supposed¡ªwithout another rest. He was out of breath enough though for her to pull him the closest chair as soon as they walked in.


    Damn mushrooms. Damn Picot and the rest of the traitors. His head felt foggy, too, and he needed a minute to take in the room.


    It hadn¡¯t changed much: walls lined with bookshelves, two desks¡ªone much grander than the other¡ªthe chairs that went with them. There was also the guest chair he was sitting in, and in a corner, there was the nest, where Morgulon¡¯s little ones slept. Two baby girls, and three wolf cubs. The mother trotted over to check on them, then turned around and slipped underneath the main desk, even though she was far too big to actually fit fully underneath. Her front half and paws portruded into the room. Was there actually enough room left for anyone to really sit at the desk now? Maybe for Lane, George Louis thought.


    It made him think of his own dogs, back home at Mannin. Except that his dogs didn¡¯t turn invisible or speak. Or turn other people into dogs.


    Lady deLande was clearly used to the she-wolf¡¯s behaviour. ¡°Please, Your Highness, have a seat,¡± she said, before taking place at the high-backed chair behind the desk. She didn¡¯t even have to order her long skirts as she did.


    Was she putting her feet onto the werewolf¡¯s back? Like a stool?


    George Louis shook himself. He blamed the damn mushrooms for the way he couldn¡¯t seem to focus on the matter at hand right now. The Royal Healer had promised he would work on that, soon as the final patients were pulled back from death¡¯s door.


    ¡°What did you have to show me?¡± he asked, sitting up a little straighter.


    The lady ruffled some of the papers in front of her. ¡°A lot of it is really inconclusive,¡± she said. ¡°Between the three of them, deVries, Pettau and Picot were in contact with just about every noble house in Loegrion. It¡¯s hard to tell how many of the lower nobility were just feeling flattered at being contacted by a Lord Warden, and how many of them were genuinely backing Picot. How many Carters there were.¡±


    What a nice way to say ¡°idiot.¡±


    She handed him a bunch of pages. Levier had certainly been sympathetic to Picot¡¯s propositions¡ªwhatever they had been. Did that make him a traitor?


    ¡°Here¡¯s Lady Moyalle,¡± Lane said, handing him a second letter as soon as he put the first one down, ¡°giving Lord Pettau ¡°card blanche¡± for any plans he might have. Did she know that would include wide-spread murder? We don¡¯t have his letters, so it¡¯s hard to tell. She certainly wasn¡¯t the only one writing similar endorsements.¡±


    The final page she offered him was a list, drafted by some clerk, listing nobles in three columns. The shortest was the first column: ¡°committed¡± it said, and it had depressingly few names. The deVales, Lord Mire, Commander Bacrot, Lady deLande, the Felekes¡ªlisted not individually, but as a group. His erstwhile allies from the north, like Marques Malemaines and the Rover family.


    The middle column listed people as ¡°wavering¡±¡ªa much longer list. Equally long was the final column, headed: ¡°opposed.¡±


    ¡°These people aren¡¯t necessarily involved in the poisoning,¡± deLande said. ¡°But they have voiced strong negative opinions about the werewolves, my role here, your rewarding of the Wayfarers and the way you have handed out land.¡±


    George Louis sniffed. ¡°If we had won at Port Neaf, I bet that list would be half as long.¡±


    ¡°Quite likely,¡± deLande confirmed.


    ¡°So what do you intend to do with this information?¡± George Louis asked. ¡°Are you going to challenge them each to a Test of Faith?¡±


    DeLande drummed the green felt on the desk. ¡°Perhaps Bishop Larssen knows a way to hold the trial on a grander scale,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°But frankly, I was thinking you may not have to do too much about them¡ªwe just need to be aware of how big the problem is and keep an eye on them. After Picot¡¯s failed attempt on your life, they won¡¯t be in a hurry to move. Perhaps hand the list to Lord Mire, for good measure, and Commander Bacrot. That should ensure they are blocked off from any relevant office.¡±


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    She pressed a finger to the stack of letters. ¡°Moreover, most of them have lands in the heartlands, Your Highness. Pick out two or three families from the area, people who just need a little push to back you, and give them land along the Stour. Let the rest of them out to hang. Either they commit to the Roi Solei, or get raided when the army passes through. Or they back you publicly, and you can decide if you want to help them.¡±


    ¡°Did you have anyone specific in mind for that land reward?¡±


    ¡°Greg¡¯s friend, Gustave deBires, literally had to run from his own family with his mother to return to our side. Likewise, my own friend Theresa deCauchy had to break with her parents to stand with Loegrion. The same could be said about Berenice Pettau, who has been begging me to take her on in the test of her faith.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re spoiled for choices,¡± George Louis muttered to himself.


    ¡°May I ask what you are going to do next, Your Highness?¡± deLande asked.


    George Louis shrugged. He had planned to have the coronation after throwing the Valoise back at Port Neaf. Now he could barely climb a single flight of stairs. And they hadn¡¯t exactly won gloriously at Port Neaf, either.


    Where did he go from here? He wasn¡¯t ready to surrender, that much he knew. But without a clearer picture of where they stood, he could hardly make an informed decision.


    ¡°I believe I will decide that when we have heard from deVale,¡± he said. ¡°Or David, preferably. There hasn¡¯t been any word, has there?¡±


    ¡°Full moon is just over¡ªthere¡¯s no way we¡¯ll get any word until tonight. I sent a messenger myself this morning, but even if the trains make it all the way to Deadend, it¡¯ll take a rider all day to get to Port Neaf. Or wherever Count deVale is right now.¡±


    ¡°So I''ll wait.¡±


    ¡°I quite agree that we should wait to hear more, Your Highness.¡± DeLande based her elbows on the desktop. ¡°But if you are willing to leave the prosecution of the traitors to me until then, Your Highness, you should return to the infirmary. I promise to inform you as soon as there is word from the front.¡±


    She had let him walk into that one nicely.


    Maybe she was right. Maybe he should be in bed, not wandering the palace in the middle of the night. But he was sick of lying on his back, too. There had to be something he could do until they got the news of how screwed they were?


    He really hoped deVale or maybe deBurg had an idea. Not that he was sure he could even trust deBurg to stay committed to the cause. DeVale might be an idiot when it came to Lady deLande, but he would never back down.


    He jumped when the werewolf¡¯s head appeared right next to his arm. He hadn¡¯t even noticed her getting up and extracting herself from underneath the table.


    ¡°Your Highness?¡± deLande asked, sounding unnecessarily worried.


    He had spaced out again, hadn¡¯t he?


    What had she just asked him?


    ¡°I said you¡¯re hardly going to instill confidence in your people in your current state,¡± she said.


    Right. Good with the honesty, less so with the comfort.


    ¡°So you would rather I leave it all to you.¡±


    ¡°To me or anyone else on that first list,¡± she said calmly.


    It was hard to concentrate on her words. The Morgulon was still sniffing around him, making the hairs in his neck stand up. A creature that large shouldn¡¯t move that quietly. And what did she want with him, anyways?


    She sneezed in his ear and walked away. Even Lady deLande raised an eyebrow when the giant wolf disappeared in the next room. The was a moment of¡ªnot quite a sound, followed by the rustle of fabric.


    George Louis blinked when the werewolf returned, dressed in what looked like an undergarment.


    ¡°He. Still smells.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± George Louis grumbled. ¡°I do not smell.¡±


    In fact, he¡¯d been washed rather thoroughly yesterday. The nurses hadn¡¯t been exactly gentle about it, either.


    The werewolf nodded gravely. ¡°Like death,¡± she said.


    ¡°I¡¯m better,¡± he grumbled. ¡°The healer assured me I¡¯m not going to die anytime soon.¡±


    ¡°Still sick,¡± she said simply.


    George Louis glanced at the Lady, who was smiling faintly while her eyebrows were climbing up to her hairline. Was there some kind of joke he wasn¡¯t getting?


    He jumped when the weird, golden eyes suddenly appeared right in front of his face. The Morgulon was leaning over him, her face right in front of his. She wrinkled her nose, sniffed, and added: ¡°Saving you. Lots of work. Go. To bed.¡±


    And then she pulled away, adding: ¡°David. Still south.¡±


    George Louis jerked upright. ¡°What? How do you know?¡±


    She shrugged elaborately, pulling up the too-wide neckline of what was probably some of Lady deLande¡¯s lingerie in the same movement.


    Was she trying to be distract him, or was she really so unused to wearing clothes?


    Not that it wouldn¡¯t have worked, if she hadn¡¯t mentioned David just a moment ago.


    And yes, when she turned back to stare at him with those alien eyes that showed no white at all, he thought she was trying to distract him. Or at least gauge his reaction.


    ¡°You mentioned David?¡± he prompted.


    She bared her teeth at him, which was less scary now than it would have been a couple of minutes ago. ¡°Can¡¯t be sure,¡± she said. ¡°But. Rust and Ragna. Still there. Moving around.¡±


    She took a deep breath. ¡°Just not. North.¡±


    ¡°So where are they going?¡±


    The werewolf shrugged again. ¡°Calder. South. Rest of them. Don¡¯t know.¡±


    What a strange magic this was. Lady deLande appeared quite confident that this was more accurate than human divination. He still had to ask: ¡°You¡¯re sure? How can you tell?¡±


    The Morgulon tilted her head at him, blinking slowly. Her throat worked. ¡°Just can,¡± she finally said.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t ask a magician how a trick is done,¡± Lady deLande commented.


    ¡°Fine then,¡± George Louis muttered. ¡°Is that your real name, Morgulon?¡±


    She bared her teeth again. ¡°No,¡± she said.


    ¡°So what is your real name?¡±


    She grinned even wider at him, than at deLande. ¡°Forgot,¡± she claimed.


    ¡°Really. You forgot your own name.¡± George Louis glanced at the lady for confirmation, but she pulled up her shoulders, looking surprised, too. Did that mean she hadn¡¯t known?


    ¡°Probably,¡± Morgulon amended.


    She was still grinning. Was she just messing with him? She hadn¡¯t really forgotten her own name, had she?


    ¡°Go to bed,¡± she said again.


    George Louis thought about it. He really didn¡¯t feel like going back to the infirmary. But she was right: he wasn¡¯t fit enough to be up and about, let alone rule.


    ¡°I will retire to my apartment here,¡± he said finally. ¡°See how my son is doing. Please, let the healer know.¡±


    The Morgulon disappeared behind his back at once, and he heard the rustle of fabric. When he turned around, she just dropped the dress, or nightgown, or whatever it was, standing there fully in the nude. She even spread her arms and bowed to him, but instead of coming up again, she let her arms fall forwards, falling into her other body in the same motion.


    George Louis blinked. He had seen a bunch of werewolves transform now, but never this smoothly¡ªthere was an elegance to it, even. Bones contorting and fur growing all over a body shouldn¡¯t look elegant. But she was so fast about it, it was like a wave coming over her.


    She trotted up to him then, clearly waiting for him to get up.


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna walk me over, are you?¡± George Louis asked. She wagged her tail in answer.


    ¡°That¡¯s a yes,¡± deLande helpfully translated.


    Right. Werewolf escort. And not just any werewolf.


    George Louis pushed himself out of his chair. Just rising felt like a chore, but once he stood, at least he wasn¡¯t falling over. Lady deLande rose with him, not quite offering him a hand. She did open the door for him, then walking by his side, with the giant she-wolf trailing after them.


    She had taken two bullets for Lord Mire, a man she hardly even knew. Saved deLande. Saved him. And she still made his skin crawl.


    Maybe David was right. Maybe he was the unreasonable one.


    He still had to fight not to glance over his shoulder every other second, to see what she was doing. And he jumped when he opened the door to his own rooms, and found not one, but three wolves stretched out on the carpet in front of the fireplace. They all looked right past him at the Morgulon, not quite rising to their feet.


    That wasn¡¯t the only addition to his reception room. The couches had been pushed aside to form room for two little desks, chairs facing each other. Lady Winter looked up from one of the tables. Right next to her, she had a blackboard set up with Valoisian declinations, and it looked like she might be getting ready for the next lesson. She froze when she saw him, then jumped to her feet, to drop into a deep curtsy.


    ¡°Your Highness, it¡¯s good to see you up and about,¡± she said. ¡°The prince is just rising.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Lady Winter, it¡¯s good to be up,¡± George Louis lied. He really wanted to take a seat. Not necessarily right next to the small pack, though.


    On the other hand, the alternative was Georgie¡¯s little desk, and that would just make his knees feel worse within a few minutes. Was that Annabelle?


    He thought¡ªhoped¡ªit was her as he sat down again on the closest couch. ¡°That would be all, Lady deLande,¡± he added.


    He didn¡¯t need more of an audience to greeting his son.


    She took the dismissal with grace, curtsiying like the governess, and retreating. The Morgulon hung around another second, and then two of the three wolves on his carpet rose, shook themselves, and walked out with her. The one that he thought was Annabelle retreated into the adjacent dressing room.


    ¡°If there¡¯s anything I can do, Your Highness¡­¡± Lady Winter started as Geoge Louis caught his breath.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take a glass of water.¡±


    She walked out in the other direction, to be replaced with Wilfred, who brought a full breakfast¡ªprobably prepared for Georgie. And there he finally was, the one George Louis had really wanted to see: His son came storming out of the dressing room, with one of his stockings sliding down and missing his jacket, showing his suspenders for all the world to see. Screeching like a wraith and throwing himself at him.


    George Louis gasped as Georgie landed on top of him. Having him crash into him, arms wrapping around him tightly, really hurt, but he wouldn¡¯t have let go for anything in the world. Georgie was crying against his shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± George Louis whispered. ¡°I¡¯m better now. It¡¯s okay.¡±


    He let Georgie cry against his shoulders, despite the servants watching on. They had earned that moment together. Breakfast getting cold or not.


    Eventually, Georgie shifted around a little, until he sat next to George Louis and he could breathe a little easier. As if she had been waiting for that moment, Annabelle, too, slipped into the room, fully dressed. It was disturbing how much she looked like the woman he had married ten years ago, except for the eyes: they were just as dark as they had used to be, a beautiful chocolate brown, but the shape had changed and there was no white visible at all anymore.


    She looked at him wearily, as if she expected to be kicked out, as she sat down on the opposite couch. Neither Lady Winter nor Wilfred seemed surprised to see her, and they had both known her as the duchess of Mannin. They still treated her with that same subservience¡ªas if she still were the duchess.


    George Louis groaned. This was just going to create a new world of trouble. He couldn¡¯t afford to lose her family¡¯s support; Annabelle¡¯s brother was the Lord Warden of King¡¯s Haven, and her parents were both influential figures in Deva.


    Damn Picot for dragging Georgie into this mess. And damn the Feleke for dragging Annabelle into the palace.


    Though it was probably a good thing she had been there to protect their son. It was certainly too late to kick her out now, though he was slightly terrified at the thought of having to go back, to once again pretend at every moment he spent in public that he loved her, when really, she felt like a weight at his foot that his mother had shackled him with.


    Not that his mother were still around.


    And Annabelle was probably no more eager to be his wife again than he was to be her husband.


    David had had the right idea of it. George Louis had always thought of deLande as just another boring Mithran with a weird vendetta, but seeing them together, seeing her hold everything together the past week¡ªseeing her stick her hand into a flame to stop Picot¡ªhe finally understood why David liked her. Why he would consider marrying her.


    Annabelle and he had never managed to align their goals the same way David and deLande were aligned. If they had, maybe none of this would ever have happened. Maybe they would have become king and queen of Loegrion without ever resorting to werewolves for help.


    Or maybe the Rot would have swallowed them both, like it surely would have swallowed the Lackland Company and all the men working for it, if it hadn¡¯t been for Gregory bloody Feleke.


    He knew it was unfair to resent the boy for this, but since that half moon at the watering station outside Eoforwic, the whole world felt like quicksand. Everything he had believed in, trusted in, was suddenly uncertain. And sure, some of it¡ªa lot of it¡ªwas good! David talking to him again, the Rot dying, Bishop Boyen ousted from Eoforwic, those were great accomplishments!


    And yet.


    It was one thing to know the Inquisition was full of shit. It was another to come face to face with the bogeyman from a thousand bedtime stories and having to be nice to it. To be forced to swallow that instinctive, primeval fear and smile at the woman who was sitting eight feet across from him, to pretend like he didn¡¯t know what she might turn into at any moment. What she might turn him into, if the fancy took her.


    Of course David had been the one to extend them an olive branch. Only someone as used to dealing with monsters as him could invite them into his home and not think anything of it.


    Only David would be surprised at the rest of the world not pivoting as quickly as him.


    George Louis sighed and reached for the tea Wilfred had served. He¡¯d pretend. Pretend like he wasn¡¯t terrified nearly out of his wits when she smiled at him. Who knew, maybe one day, he¡¯d even believe it himself.


    He hoped that day would come soon, because this was exhausting.


    Made more exhausting by the fact that he was apparently the only one who was still¡ªnot worried. Worry involved thought. This was subconscious. When Annabelle moved, he jumped, pure reflex. No choice, no decision involved. Amd it was hard to fight against himself, especially when it was already hard to concentrate on what was going on around him. It was actually a relief when just after breakfast, the Royal Healer showed up, Master Maitrise, to usher him to lay down.


    The rest was welcome, too. He¡¯d been awake for less than four hours, but he really needed the nap. He passed out to the healer fussing over him, and that feeling of pressure somewhere between his stomach and his chest that told him the healer was working.

 Chapter 186

    Waiting for news from the front was tiring, and ultimately, non-productive. So Lane sent a telegram to Wardshire in the afternoon. The duke had never actually said that he was going to go along with her idea of giving Theresa new lands that weren¡¯t on the wrong side of the Torrent, but it was better to have her at hand just in case. It wasn¡¯t like she could do anything at Wardshire.


    So early the next day, Lane arrived at Deva Central Station. Theresa was supposed to arrive at the first train from Northwold, but with all the work that still happened on the lines, schedules at Deva could be a bit erratic. While she waited, Lane had a pastry from one of the convenient little vendors at the platform. All around her, life was disconcertingly normal. The horror of what had happened at the palace didn¡¯t affect the citizens of Deva, and while there was certainly news of the Valoisian landing, there was a strange air of calmness, too. The war wasn¡¯t yet here, after all, and anyway, the werewolves were on their side now. With monsters fighting in their ranks, what could possibly go wrong?


    Lane smiled grimly when she heard that bit of gossip.


    All around, people bustled and bumped into each other, got stuck with their luggage or complained about the noise from the builders. Deva Main Station was forever under construction, and the crowds of people¡ªheralds of the scores of refugees that were sure to come¡ªarriving from south of the river with kith and kin only added to the chaos.


    There was something eerie about the mundanity of the view.


    Lane allowed herself a bit of pride at the sight of the busy station, too. Her contribution had been small, but she had had a hand in this development. She still remembered when the station had first been built by the Valoise¡ªfour platforms had seemed excessive. After all, there had been only two lines. One to Deggan and one going to the south. Reaching Eoforwic had seemed like a dangerous and difficult enterprise, Northwold a waste of good alchemy.


    Now, it took careful scheduling for the trains from Eoforwic, Northwold, Deggan, Bayburgh, Lanmouth, and all the smaller towns and villages¡ªplaces that were just being connected¡ªto all arrive safely.


    Two more platforms were being built, and since Eoforwic Central now had eight working ones, it was rumoured that Deva was supposed to have ten.


    In the meantime, Deva tried to trump Eoforwic¡¯s main station with plush waiting rooms¡ªseparate ones for ladies and gentlemen¡ªa railway hotel, horse stables, and all the food variety one could want, as the billboards on the walls eagerly pointed out. ¡°No need to travel all the way to First Camp to fully experience the miracle of the railway!¡± another one proclaimed.


    The man standing in front of the posters encouraged travellers to buy tickets to a lottery, to win a seat on the very first train to go from Eoforwic directly to Mannin, over the new bridge.


    ¡°Tuppence for a ticket, milady! If you¡¯d care to try your luck?¡±


    Lane smiled and moved on. She did wonder how many seats there were available to win as she passed a boy begging his mother to try.


    Never let it be said Duke Stuard didn¡¯t know how to make money. Or at least employed people who knew how to make money.


    ¡°Deva is boring,¡± a little girl complained. ¡°I wanna go north and see some werewolves! Can I buy a ticket, mum?¡±


    Lane shuddered at the normalcy of it all. What would this place look like in a week? How many would be fleeing towards Mannin, lottery or not? Or would the citizens stay and sit it out at Deva?


    Theresa¡¯s train whistled as it entered the station, and Lane walked to the platform. People spilled out of the wagons and onto walkways. Lane heard Theresa before she saw her, thanking someone profusely. A heavy-set guy lifted a huge suitcase out of the door, then offered his arm, and there was Theresa, the picture of flustered grace as she climbed down.


    ¡°Lane!¡± she called out. ¡°Lane, it¡¯s so good to see you, thank you for picking me up! I haven¡¯t been to Deva in ages, isn¡¯t this exciting? This is Mr. Bern, he¡¯s a butcher from Albertus. Amazing, isn''t it, the people one can meet on the railway?¡±


    Lane managed a smile and a nod. Theresa in full ¡°country damsel¡± mode was a whirlwind. Hard to resist, too: Mr. Bern carried her suitcase all the way to the exit, where Theresa even managed to charm one of the notoriously grouchy cab-drivers of Deva.


    Lane climbed in on her own while the driver handled the luggage. She listened only with half an ear as Theresa described her journey.


    Only once the door of Lane¡¯s hotel room closed behind the page-boy, Theresa fell silent abruptly and dropped herself in a heap of hoop-skirts onto the bed.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on at Wardshire?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°At Wardshire? Nothing much.¡± Theresa sighed. ¡°Everyone else is on edge, though, all the lords and ladies are watching each other like hawks. Duke Desmarais¡¯s men¡­¡±


    Theresa stopped, took a deep breath. ¡°Sorry, Duke Stuard¡¯s men now, I guess? Yours? Anyway, they have been following up on every superstition, locking people up before they can side with the Valoise, seizing land¡­And now it¡¯s worse, after that poisoning. I cannot believe they did that! It¡¯s such a mess!¡±


    ¡°How so? Isn¡¯t it a good thing if they stop people from defecting?¡±


    Theresa glared and tossed one of the decorative pillows at her. ¡°No! All it takes is a whisper. A rumour. You know how easy those are to start! And it doesn¡¯t help that most people aren¡¯t committed. It¡¯s all backwards, the people who least believe in Loegrion¡¯s independence make the biggest show of supporting Duke Stuard, and the fools who feel safe, because they know they are loyal, get themselves in trouble for speaking their mind.¡±


    She sighed. ¡°And some fools don¡¯t even wait for the Duke¡¯s men and think they can weed out traitors on their own. Three lords and even one lady died since the poison attack outside of Deva. Just like when your fiance was in that duel.¡±


    ¡°Count deVale challenged him over me. Nothing to do with the Valoise, just a sore loser.¡± Lane sniffed. ¡°Like deVale could trouble him.¡±


    That put a smile on Theresa¡¯s face. ¡°You said that very nicely. I almost believed you really do want to marry him.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± Lane shrugged.


    ¡°Does he know, though? That you aren¡¯t interested?¡± Theresa fluttered her eyelashes. ¡°I¡¯d have him, you know. The Hero of Oldstone Castle.¡±


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t be interested, either.¡±


    ¡°Ah, that makes sense,¡± Theresa sighed. ¡°Shame.¡± She sat up and straightened her dress. ¡°Now what, though? Do I present myself to the palace right away?¡±


    Lane shook her head. ¡°I doubt the duke is in the constitution to see you right now. It might take a few days before he sees you. Want to go into the city?¡±


    Theresa threw her head back. ¡°Me, alone in the big city? Oh, what would mother say?¡± She grinned even wider. ¡°Can we get a werewolf for a chaperone?¡±


    Theresa was clearly joking, but Lane thought about it. Greg was probably just as restless she was. And Thoko had seen little of Deva, too.


    ¡°Chaperone, no. But we can ask one for escort,¡± Lane said aloud, startling her friend. ¡°We¡¯ll swing by House Feleke, introduce you. Morgulon might let you visit the cubs.¡±


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    ¡°I bet she¡¯d make a great chaperone.¡±


    ¡°In that she¡¯d be able to smell a young man¡¯s intention before he even knows about them himself? Oh yes.¡± Lane smiled at the thought. ¡°But I very much doubt she¡¯d leave the cubs for such frivolity. If you¡¯re worried about your reputation¡­¡±


    Theresa waved her hands. ¡°At this point in time, my reputation is the last thing I¡¯m concerned about.¡± She still straightened out her skirts as she rose. ¡°I¡¯m sick of acting all prim and proper. I want to govern a barony, like you do. And I want to see werewolf cubs. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ***


    At the Feleke-house, a servant ushered them right into the drawing room. Greg was sprawled out over a couch, his head in Thoko¡¯s lap, his daughters sleeping on his chest. Morgulon was right outside the garden door, stretching her legs. Nathan was reading something that looked like a report on his next assignment to Lane.


    ¡°You¡¯re in early,¡± Nathan said by way of greeting. ¡°Got tired of the palace finally?¡±


    ¡°This is my friend Theresa,¡± Lane replied. ¡°Lady Theresa de Cauchy. I told you about her. She arrived today.¡±


    Nathan barely looked up from his papers, but Greg waved. ¡°We heard about your family,¡± he said. ¡°I hope you are doing well?¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I am quite well, thanks to Lane¡¯s hospitality. I have come to Deva to petition the duke for control of my family¡¯s estates,¡± Theresa explained. She paused and added: ¡°Once a meeting can be arranged, that is.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s Imani faring?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°Better, not great,¡± Greg sighed. ¡°She¡¯s resting upstairs. Father¡¯s with her. I can fetch him, though?¡±


    Lane waved him off. ¡°Let¡¯s not bother them,¡± she said. ¡°Actually, Theresa hasn''t been to Deva in a while, and we were wondering if you gentlemen wanted to escort a couple of ladies from the country in the dangerous big city.¡±


    Nathan finally looked up, raising his eyebrows at her. ¡°Little late to start playing innocent, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Lane ignored him. ¡°Thoko, you¡¯re also welcome to join us.¡±


    Greg raised one hand. ¡°Am I included under ¡®gentlemen¡¯? And where¡¯re you going?¡±


    ¡°Of course you¡¯re included.¡± Lane saw the smile on Thoko¡¯s face, there and gone, because she had expected it. ¡°And we haven¡¯t got much of a plan yet. Maybe see if there¡¯s anything up in the park? I hear they usually have some new marvel at the university, too. Has Prof. Audenne opened his exhibition on werewolves yet?¡±


    Greg sat up, cradling his daughters in his arms as he did. ¡°He has. Would you be interested in that, Lady Theresa?¡±


    Theresa was thoroughly distracted by the two baby girls in their little white ruffled dresses. She was smiling at them and making faces, and at least one of the girls was smiling back.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you amazing?¡± Theresa cooed. ¡°So beautiful. A little miracle.¡± She waved and when the baby waved back, Theresa asked Greg: ¡°Can I hold her?¡±


    Greg looked startled at the request. ¡°You¡ªknow she¡¯s Morgulon¡¯s, right? And mine?¡±


    Thereas nodded, undeterred. ¡°Do I need to be careful? Even with the moon is waning?¡± She held out her arms before Greg could answer. ¡°Such a sweet little girl, you won¡¯t bite me, no you won¡¯t.¡±


    Greg looked surprised still, but he scooted around until Theresa could pick the still waving baby girl out of his arms.


    ¡°Hewan,¡± he explained. ¡°Her sister here is Almaz.¡±


    ¡°And the three boys? Boy cubs?¡±


    ¡°Morgulon still hasn¡¯t named them.¡±


    ¡°Really? But they¡¯re quite healthy, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes. She doesn¡¯t seem to think names are important. And given how little she speaks, maybe they aren¡¯t, for her.¡±


    Lane poked her head out the patio door, where Morgulon was scratching behind her ear with a hind paw. The motion was so dog-like that Lane stopped to stare.


    It couldn¡¯t hurt to ask, could it?


    ¡°We¡¯re going into the city,¡± she said, feeling a little stupid. ¡°Want to come with us?¡±


    Morgulon paused in scratching and looked at her. The werewolf¡¯s long tail swished through the air. Lane¡¯s heart sped up. ¡°You¡¯re actually considering it?¡±


    Morgulon¡¯s answer was a deep sigh.


    ¡°She says she¡¯ll come if we leave the city,¡± Greg called from inside.


    Lane stared at the giant she-wolf. Was she serious?


    ¡°Deva does have some fairly large parks,¡± she said slowly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think there¡¯ll be trouble if we take her into the city without escort?¡± Greg asked. Lane couldn¡¯t tell if that was Morgulon¡¯s question or his own.


    ¡°And there¡¯ll be two werewolf hunters present,¡± Nathan pointed out.


    ¡°You think you and Lane can stop a whole mob?¡± Thoko asked. ¡°And who¡¯ll look after the kids?¡±


    Lane wished she wasn¡¯t right in her objection. Before she could think of a way to make this work, Greg relayed: ¡°Morgulon says she wants to go next time there¡¯s a circus in town.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Lane muttered. ¡°Of course, we can do that.¡±


    ***


    With some effort, Theresa could be convinced to leave little Hewan with Morgulon, and they got moving. The five of them took an open carriage, so Theresa could see more of the city. This also meant that the city saw more of them: As they got stuck in traffic on the large bridge crossing the White Torrent, a group of guards stared and pointed at Greg¡ªclearly, they knew who and what he was.


    More importantly, though, nobody made any move to stop them. Nobody yelled obscenities or threw rotten fruit.


    A crowd had gathered on the main plaza in front of the library to watch a group of engineers demonstrating a miniature railway engine. Some new design, apparently. They even had tracks laid out, but Lane couldn¡¯t tell what made this one different from the many already travelling Loegrion¡¯s trails.


    Inside the library¡¯s entrance hall and adjacent galleries was the aforementioned exhibition, staged by Prof. Audenne and his colleagues in the study of magical creatures. It was the place to go for anyone who wanted to learn about werewolves without taking the risk of meeting one¡ªwhich was the majority of the heartlands¡¯ citizens, from what Lane could tell. The hall was crowded despite its size.


    Dominating the centre of the entrance hall were two large silverglass cubicles, displaying the dismembered husks of destroyed Rot-brutes. On the walls to either side of them hung the technical drawings of some of the bridges of the new lines, and several large frames with paintings depicting the fight at the Savre camp. Lane recognized Prof. Audenne¡¯s art right away. The white-blue halo glared on Morgulon¡¯s mane as she ripped apart a Rot-queen that remained shrouded in shadows.


    Down the hall to the left, there stood a complete werewolf-skeleton on a pedestal, several skulls, and an assortment of teeth. A pelt hung from one wall, framed by large boards full of text. ¡°The history of werewolf hunting¡± was the caption, and accordingly, there were also weapons on display.


    Down the other hall, Lane recognized Prof. Audenne¡¯s drawings of Morgulon¡¯s transformation. He had clearly re-done them: from the series of sketches in his notebook had come a half-dozen large paintings, each one of them incredibly detailed and painfully realistic. On the other side, there were sets of portraits, the human and the wolf face of each of the werewolves who had fought at the Savre Camp. Only Greg was missing.


    Lane thought he looked rather relieved at that.


    Most prominently placed was Oli, with his arm in a sling. The poster next to his two faces didn¡¯t mention the Rot-queen who had lured him in, but it did explain his story, from the bite over how his parents had hidden him to the two battles he had fought in.


    Greg did a quick circuit of the hall, pushing through the many spectators. Lane and Theresa had barely made it past the first poster, when he returned to inform them: ¡°I¡¯ll be outside, seeing if Prof. Audenne is in.¡±


    With that he walked out again, Thoko at his heels.


    Lane wanted to hit her own head against the wall. She should have anticipated that this wouldn''t be a fun place to visit for Greg.


    She hadn¡¯t expected the skeleton, though. Or the pelt. There was a skull and single teeth, too. Some claws.


    Theresa approached the morbid displays hesitatingly. ¡°Are these real?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Could be,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s test it,¡± Nathan said. He¡¯d brought his quiver and crossbow, so he pulled a silver bolt out, touching the tip to the skull¡¯s teeth. Blue sparks sizzled up. ¡°Quite real,¡± he said, putting the bolt away.


    Having drawn the attention to the fact he was a hunter, he was promptly assailed by the spectators. Everyone had a question. Everyone wanted to meet one of the famous Feleke Four. Before Lane could discreetly make her exit, Nathan dropped her name, and suddenly, it was Countess deLande this and Countess deLande that. She glared at Nathan, who grinned back unrepentantly.


    Theresa was in her element, moderating the conversation.


    After about half an hour, Prof. Audenne was notified of their presence, and came to talk. Or possibly to make use of the commotion they caused. The engineers from outside poked their heads inside to complain about the drain they had on their audience, then stayed to listen as Nathan recounted his encounter with the Rot-queen.


    Prof. Audenne in the meantime sidled up to Lane. ¡°The Honourable Gregory Feleke wouldn¡¯t happen to be around, too?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t enjoy the atmosphere,¡± Lane explained with a vague wave towards the werewolf bones in the centre of the room. ¡°But he should be on the premises.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Audenne muttered. ¡°I do apologise for this. Not all of my colleagues seem to understand that we are still talking about, well, people.¡± He sighed. ¡°I really don¡¯t know what the public is supposed to learn from that pelt. Or the skull and teeth. At least the skeleton shows their full size.¡±

 Chapter 187

    Greg¡¯s skin was still crawling from the macabre exhibits when he ducked into the smaller crowd outside, where people were watching the new steam engine chuff gently in the early summer warmth. It wasn¡¯t just the show itself, but the way people were staring: with that languorous horror of the safe spectator.


    ¡°That was gross,¡± Thoko pulled him out of his head. ¡°Want to go sit down someplace?¡±


    Thoko¡¯s question made Greg jump. He hadn¡¯t noticed that she had followed her. He blinked at her. ¡°You aren¡¯t staying?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°I doubt I¡¯ll learn anything new here. And I¡¯ve seen enough of people revelling in the pain of others.¡±


    She reached for his hand, giving him a small smile. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here?¡±


    ¡°Right. Right,¡± he repeated. ¡°Uh, Gustave¡¯s club is close by. We might be able to find something to drink there?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    She didn¡¯t let go of his hand. That was nice.


    The street was mostly empty, the lunch crowd dispersed, the evening revellers not yet out. Greg walked in long strides, Thoko keeping pace. She didn¡¯t comment on his flight.


    ¡°Think Gustave is around?¡± she asked instead.


    ¡°Maybe. I have no idea what his schedule is these days. And maybe it¡¯s better if we don¡¯t visit quite the same club. I don¡¯t know how much he told his friends after I dragged him through the fog the other night.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we can find a cafe? How do you feel about some cake?¡±


    That sounded good, Greg thought, but before he could answer, someone called their names.


    ¡°Lord Feleke. Miss Banda. Fancy meeting you here.¡±


    Mr. Smith held out his hand in greeting. ¡°What brings you here?¡±


    ¡°We had a look at Prof. Audenne¡¯s show at the library.¡±


    Smith grimaced. ¡°Ah, I see. Quite a show. Perhaps you¡¯d like to join my colleagues and I for a drink, to chase down the aftertaste? I know I didn¡¯t find it very palatable.¡±


    Greg looked at Thoko to gauge her reaction. She seemed more eager at the suggestion than he felt himself. Not all of Smith¡¯s colleagues were comfortable in his presence, and he didn¡¯t feel like watching them jump every time he moved.


    Still, he claimed: ¡°That would be quite welcome.¡±


    Mr. Smith¡¯s companions sat outside one of the many eateries and pubs, both of them smoking pipes.


    ¡°I believe I mentioned Prof. Martens to you, Lord Feleke? And you know Charles, of course.¡±


    Charles, from the Lour bridge. That was a relief to Greg. Charles had felt the Rot¡¯s influence and appreciated a werewolf¡¯s protection.


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    ¡°Prof. Martens, the Honourable Greg Feleke, and Miss Thoko Banda.¡±


    Martens was an old man, with almost no hair and a scanty little beard. He looked frail, dwarfed by his own coat. A scarf in the colour of Loegrion covered half his chin. He wore a pin on his lapel, a flower over two crossed swords.


    ¡°I am glad to meet you both, Lord Feleke, Miss Banda,¡± he said, and rose with creaking joints to shake their hands. ¡°I saw your picture in the papers, Miss Banda. Well done on those Valoisian bastards, I say. Well done and to hell with unsanctioned magic.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªthere was no magic involved,¡± Thoko said. ¡°No human magic, that is.¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Martens agreed, smiling. ¡°Of course not. And you, Lord Feleke, I have heard much about. Thank you for bringing my best apprentice back.¡±


    Greg was worried that if he grabbed the old man¡¯s hand too tightly, he would crush some fingers. Martens let go abruptly and fell back into his chair with a wheezing cough.


    Charles and Smith watched with worry.


    ¡°Are you sure we shouldn¡¯t go¡ª¡± Charles asked, but Martens interrupted with an angry wave of his hands.


    ¡°I sit inside all day,¡± he wheezed. ¡°Fresh air! Or, to see the new Savre bridge with my own eyes. Just once¡­¡±


    He coughed again, then cleared his throat, focusing on Greg. ¡°Is it true that a werewolf-bite cures all illness?¡±


    Greg sighed inwardly. The question wasn¡¯t surprising, but he wished he had a better answer. ¡°In theory, yes,¡± he said. ¡°In practise, there¡¯s lots of reasons it may not work. Magic messes with it, so does certain alchemy. And we get old just as any other living being.¡±


    Martens took a drag from his pipe and promptly started coughing again, which turned into swearing as he caught his breath. ¡°Should have listened to the doctor twenty years ago,¡± he growled, glaring at the pipe in his hands. ¡°So if a healer already tried to heal someone, it¡¯s too late?¡±


    What was he supposed to say to that? The few surveys that had been done in the field had hardly been comprehensive. And if Martens was suffering from what Greg thought he was, fifty-fifty probably looked like good odds.


    ¡°There are other ways that werewolves can help,¡± Thoko said before Greg could make up his mind. ¡°Not Greg,¡± she added. ¡°But we could get you in contact. If your healer who would be willing to work with a werewolf.¡±


    Martens nodded slowly. ¡°I¡¯m sure I could find someone, if the man attending to me won¡¯t help. Seems like all he¡¯s doing is telling me I should have come to see him five years ago anyway. Claims that no one has enough magic to help me now.¡± He looked from Thoko to Greg. ¡°Much like how I heard no human healer could possibly cure death cap poisoning.¡±


    ¡°No human healer, no,¡± Thoko said.


    ¡°I told you, professor,¡± Smith added,


    Martens nodded again and finally put his pipe down to look at Greg. The direct gaze was rather unnerving, so Greg turned towards Smith and asked: ¡°Told you what?¡±


    ¡°Smith alleged that some of the wilder rumours regarding the events at the palace may not be as exaggerated as I thought,¡± Martens said. ¡°I had assumed it may have been a botched dose? Too few mushrooms split between too many people? Or not death cap at all? Perhaps arsenid?¡±


    ¡°It was death cap,¡± Greg confirmed. ¡°And it would have been quite deadly, without some of the more powerful werewolves there.¡±


    Was there even any point in keeping the secret of age hidden at this point? But it was one thing for the higher nobility of Loegrion to know that not all werewolves were equal, and a different matter altogether to tell them how exactly that difference came to be. Right?


    Thoko smiled at Martens. ¡°As I said, we could get you in contact with someone with far more magic than any human healer,¡± she claimed. ¡°And perhaps,¡± she added, before Martens could say anything, ¡°you could help a werewolf get into university in return?¡±


    Greg opened his mouth, turned to stare at her, then closed his mouth again. Martens, however, started to laugh. Which of course resulted in more coughing. Greg thought he saw some blood before the old man managed to cover his mouth with a handkerchief.


    Cancer. Or just possibly consumption, though the professor¡¯s comments on his condition made Greg think it was probably the former.


    ¡°Quite a woman you have there, Lord Feleke,¡± Martens finally said. ¡°And I can¡¯t make any promises, but I will be quite happy to do whatever is in my power, should you ever tire of the palace and its intrigue.¡±

 Chapter 188

    The Heartlands were a nightmare place to make war in, simply because they had been so firmly under Valoisian control for so long. There had never been any need to build and maintain wide, straight roads for armies to march on. Instead, all the roads were little cobblestone lanes, shaded by trees and often firmly confined in a corset of stone walls atop which wild hedges flourished, sometimes barely wide enough for two carts to pass each other.


    It forced the prince and his two marshalls to move their units slowly, and split them over a variety of routes lest one broken cart in the wrong place halted the whole army.


    And to make matters worse for them, Mithras wasn¡¯t smiling down at the army carrying his image into the heartlands of Loegrion. Just as the final soldiers moved out of the depot at Port Neaf, it started to rain. Not a bit of a light drizzle, but a proper downpour that had a host of tiny Rot-creatures swarm the area. The werewolves tried their best to herd the monsters towards the Valoise, but it was much like herding cats.


    It was still going a few hours later, as David watched from atop a little ridge as the pisscoats struggled to keep their powder dry on the road below. The trees of the little forest hid him quite well, but still, every once in a while, someone tried to take a shot at him. Which meant the soldiers weren¡¯t trying to shoot the werewolves lined up in the thick, windbreaking hedgerow right along the other side of the road.


    Waiting for the right moment.


    David¡¯s new gelding snorted when another bullet dug itself into the ground a few yards below them. But he was up here and the Valoise were down in the swale. Even with their fancy rifles with their expensive grooved barrels, he was beyond their effective range. The horse didn¡¯t know that, though.


    The gelding likely did sense the Rot, crawling about. David certainly had a headache despite his silver-decorated cap. He had sent Rust and Ragna away, clearing and destroying more villages before the Valoisian advance. He had kept only the youngest werewolves around, because he was hoping to watch when the Rot attacked the track of wagons and soldiers in the valley.


    Unfortunately, luck wasn¡¯t exactly smiling on him today, either.


    Alvin¡¯s shade suddenly flared bright in the rainy gloom; that was all the warning David got. The Rot rose straight out of the ground, like a fountain of mud with murderous intentions. David¡¯s gelding bucked so hard he almost lost his hold in the saddle.


    The Rot creature just kept growing until it towered over David and the horse and even some of the smaller trees. It hollowed out the ground where it appeared, flowing up the hill against gravity, carrying a wave of stench with it.


    David froze. The only reason he didn¡¯t fall out of the saddle right then was because his horse froze, too.


    The Rot¡¯s foul magic had no effect on Alvin¡¯s shade. The gangly, silver shadow threw itself onto the Rot, digging its glowing teeth into the repugnant dirt. Ripping out chunks.


    There was no sound. No real sound. David knew he wasn¡¯t really hearing it with his ears. Yet somehow, he sensed the wolf¡¯s furious snarl deep inside himself.


    As soon as he was aware of that snarl, he could move again. Could drive his heels into the gelding¡¯s flanks to jerk the horse out of the Rot¡¯s grasps, direct it down the hill¡ªtowards the Valoise and his own werewolf-soldiers.


    They came down the hill like a runaway train, the horse, David, and the Rot. There were bullets flying right and left of David¡¯s head and he kept waiting for the gelding to be hit, to crumple under him¡ªbut it never happened. Instead, he had a couple of seconds to appreciate how the influence of the Rot hit the orderly lines of marching soldiers and carts, how men gagged or fainted or just sat down on the ground or simply stopped moving altogether.


    When he glanced back over his shoulder, Alvin¡¯s shade was carried along, riding on the Rot-monster, still tearing at it.


    David crossed the road facing almost no resistance at all. He didn¡¯t even draw his sabre. One single brave Chasseur in his silver armour was still moving and tried to stop him, but the gelding trampled him without even slowing down.


    Ducked as low over the gelding¡¯s neck as he could, David was still hit hard in the face as the horse crashed into the hedge on the other side of the road. Where Millie and Vigo were hidden by the dense foliage. The fur in their necks was standing on edge but otherwise, they were eerily quiet.


    David half fell, half jumped out of the saddle, noisily throwing up his meagre breakfast. He was vaguely aware of Millie slinking around him and the horse, and Alvin¡¯s shade¡ªimpaled on dozens of branches that couldn¡¯t touch him¡ªstanding between him and the Valoise as his body tried to get rid of everything he had eaten that week. When David spit onto the ground one last time, there were more Rot-creatures on the road, just a few yards away. Keeping away from the werewolves, at least for now.


    The Valoise were getting torn apart. In the centre of the street, ripping up the cobblestones, was the creature that had attacked David first, but there were half a dozen smaller ones around it. Fittingly for the countryside, they looked as if a bunch of cowpats had gathered and learned to move. The stink was breathtaking, making David glad that there was nothing left within his stomach to come up.


    These Rot-creatures had no hard edges, no claws or maws as so many others David had seen. They just threw themselves onto the Valoise, flattening them. David was pretty sure he heard bones crunching.


    Or maybe that was just the cobblestones.


    He didn¡¯t think it was just the cobblestones.


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    The animals pulling the carts with the gunpowder stood perfectly still, paralyzed in place. David watched how one of the smaller Rot-creatures approached the ox closest to him, leaning onto the beast. It snorted softly but made no attempt to escape or fight back. Yet the mound of mud had barely touched the ox¡¯s flank when a ripple went through its shape and it recoiled. Two stubby little ¡°arms¡± poked at the beast. David wondered if it would form a head, too, but then the whole ugly thing slurped around and away, attacking the driver of the cart.


    ¡°Weird,¡± David muttered.


    Alchemy, Millie replied. On the coat of the beasts.


    She wrinkled her nose. David couldn¡¯t tell if that was because of the smell of the alchemy or because the Rot swallowed the cart driver whole, growing in the process.


    Might need some backup for this, Vigo commented.


    David nodded silently. Already, he heard horn signals somewhere behind a bend in the street, and then the sound of hooves on cobblestones and the rattle of armour. While the Rot was still feasting, a line of chasseurs a cheval charged into the tunnel of trees surrounding them¡ªtwelve silver-armed riders, whose horses were armoured much like those of ancient knights. All of it plated in silver.


    Vigo and Millie both retreated deeper into the brush, ducking low in the foliage. David didn¡¯t move. He needed to see. To watch how the Valoise aimed their short stocky guns at the Rot and fired a volley at almost point-blank range. The mud went flying where the brightly glowing alchemy hit home. Before the creatures managed to reassemble themselves, the chasseurs drew their sabres and spurred their horses onwards.


    ¡°Turn human,¡± David whispered to his own soldiers as the chasseurs engaged the Rot directly. ¡°Grab your muskets!¡±


    It would have been an inspiring sight a couple of years ago, the way the Valoisian soldiers tore into the Rot, seeing the monsters rear and flee or get simply hacked apart. Now, David really wished the chasseurs were less effective at what they did.


    But their silver armour had to be expensive as hell. Surely, these were elites of which even the Roi Solei could only field a limited number. So they had to lower that number further.


    Vigo turned quickly. Millie barked softly, passing the order on to the wolves hidden along the road, before shifting, too. David only had eighteen of them hidden in the hedgerow, but most of them were veterans. And that was still eighteen bullets and a crossbow bolt the chasseurs weren''t expecting in the middle of fighting the Rot.


    Naked men and women gathered around him with their weapons loaded.


    ¡°Ready,¡± David hissed, and swung his own crossbow off his shoulder while the werewolves took their firing stances. ¡°Aim¡­and fire!¡±


    He loosened his own bolt, straight at a man¡¯s face. Aimed again and shot another one in the neck. The rest of his soldiers had to be far less careful where they aimed: Silver armour was great against the Rot, but it barely offered any protection against musket fire. Especially at just a few yards of range.


    David reached for the lever and a fresh bolt. ¡°Don¡¯t kill the horses,¡± he ordered quietly.


    ¡°Ambush!¡± yelled one of the chasseurs in Valoisian. ¡°It¡¯s an ambush!¡±


    Those chasseurs who still could promptly turned and ran in confusion¡ªelites they might have been, but they weren¡¯t used to fighting people. Let alone armed people. Which they couldn¡¯t see.


    Now came the hardest part.


    ¡°Catch any horse that can still move,¡± David ordered. ¡°Take the men¡¯s armour.¡±


    The werewolves stared back at him in shock.


    ¡°We¡¯re stealing as much of it as possible,¡± David added, raising his voice. Meeting their eyes as much as he could in the shadow of the hedge. ¡°Quick!¡±


    It was one of the veterans who snapped him a salute, then stepped into the battlefield. David waited till the rest of them followed, then went, too. It was gruesome work, stripping the dead and dying of their armour. And David had the easy end of it. The werewolves were hissing and cursing at the pain, but they did it, collecting the silver mail and strapping it onto the five remaining horses.


    When there was another signal blown out of sight, David swore under his breath.


    ¡°Leave the rest!¡± he ordered. ¡°Take the horses and let¡¯s get out of here! Through the hedge!¡±


    The horses snorted loudly, but they followed the werewolves into the thicket. David didn¡¯t wait until they were out of sight and pulled out his field lighter, to set fire to a rope inside the cart with the powder.


    Quickly, he followed his werewolves into the hedge, then out on the other side, onto the open field beyond.


    ¡°Turn wolf!¡± David yelled, jumping into the saddle of his own gelding as soon as the open ground stretched before him. It was muddy and heavy, slowing horses and wolves alike.


    They hadn¡¯t made it halfway across the field when it turned out that yes, the Valoise had succeeded in keeping their powder dry. The noise when the first barrel of the stuff went was like a physical blow to the back of his head.


    Mithras¡¯s flaming balls¡­


    David couldn¡¯t tell which of the werewolves that specific bit of blasphemy came from. He couldn¡¯t hear his own chuckle, either, because the rest of the cart¡¯s load went off at that moment. Possibly the next cart, too.


    The stolen horses flew over the wall on the other side of the field as if their tails had been set on fire. All the werewolves had to do was turn them down an even narrower holloway, so overgrown by trees David had to duck low in the saddle.


    Good luck to the Valoise trying to find them in this rabbit warren.


    If they were even trying.


    Though David was fairly sure they were. After all, they had just stolen six whole sets of horse armours, and seven human ones.


    Now they just had to do it another hundred times. Two hundred times? It didn¡¯t matter.


    They just had to keep killing and stealing and burning their men and material until even the Roi Solei decided that Loegrion wasn¡¯t worth it.


    Not to speak out of turn, Sir, Vigo asked when they slowed down to a trot. But what are we going to do with all the silver?


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep a helmet for myself,¡± David said. ¡°Maybe all the helmets, to trade them for food if need be. The rest of it, we wrap up and hand over to the regular army at the first opportunity.¡±


    If there wasn¡¯t an opportunity soon, of course, they might just have to bury the whole lot and hope they could find it again after the war.


    Loegrion was going to need this armour one day. Once they got to clearing the Rot.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± he added, to banish that cheerful thought. ¡°I hope you enjoyed your first successful raid as Loegrian irregulars.¡±


    There was laughter, and one of the veterans said: Lord Relentless¡¯s Irregulars.

 Chapter 189

    The calm before the storm was over. The war had begun in earnest. The Valoise were on the move. Deva noticed mostly because of the hundreds of refugees that were streaming into the city every hour.


    They came by foot, on carts and horses, some of them by train. Some went to other cities first, where the authorities were even more overwhelmed than in Deva and pushed them onto the next train¡ªor trek¡ªto the capital just to get rid of them. Which in turn created multiple hotspots within Deva of people arriving.


    And Duke George Louis was barely fit to stand. Barely able to hold a conversation with his son.


    Lane was a little hazy on why that meant that she was the one who had to come up with a solution for the unfolding crisis, yet here she was: Standing in the largest watch house of Deva¡¯s city watch, explaining to a bunch of watch officers¡ªand military officers¡ªwhat she wanted them to do. Commander Bacrot and a bunch of generals were standing behind her looking over her shoulder, but didn¡¯t seem to be about to speak up.


    Maybe they thought this needed a woman¡¯s touch.


    Inwardly, Lane rolled her eyes. That would be just like them, wouldn''t it?


    Out loud she said: ¡°First thing we want to do is gather them all in one spot. So we can count how many there are, get them some hot food. A place to rest before we send women and children further north. That¡¯ll be the Watch¡¯s task. The men will need to be assessed, so we¡¯ll know if they¡¯re fit to serve as soldiers. That¡¯ll be the army¡¯s responsibility, just like training them up if they are.¡±


    She looked from the officers in front of her to those behind her. ¡°I hope the army is prepared to do that.¡±


    A round of nods was the answer, so she went on: ¡°As to where to gather the refugees, Lady Ariana Desmarais has offered up Windish, where the werewolves were previously housed.¡±


    ¡°What if there are more werewolves amongst the refugees?¡± one of the watch officers asked.


    ¡°We¡¯ll take care of that at Windish,¡± Lane said. "They can stay right there."


    Monroe could do it, or Malinda. They were both easily old enough to force any hidden werewolf to reveal themselves. And the house was still there.


    Not that Lane thought there would be many werewolves coming into Deva.


    They had barely finished discussing the details of where Lane wanted the watch men to report for helping to set everything up at Windish--and the calls for volunteers they would need--when a runner came sprinting into the room, breathlessly informing them that Count deVale and his vanguard of soldiers had just boarded a train and would arrive within an hour.


    Finally.


    Lane turned to Bacrot. ¡°Please send a message to let deVale know that I¡¯ll greet him at the palace. Also, I¡¯ll need to be on my way right away.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it,¡± he assured her.


    Lane took a step, then stopped herself. ¡°You have a telegraph, don¡¯t you? Please inform Lord Mire at the palace that Count deVale is on the way and to prepare a meeting place and refreshments right away.¡±


    One of the watchmen actually saluted her at that, and marched out of the room. Lane nodded at the rest of the men, pressing the palms of hands together in front of her chest. ¡°Please, gentlemen, get to it,¡± she said. ¡°I will likely have further orders once I have spoken with the count.¡±


    Antonio was waiting outside the watch house with the carriage for her. He got her across the city in time for her to find the duke at his own quarters and inform him of deVale''s imminent arrival, then check on the room Lord Mire had had set up. It was named ¡°the Woodland Room,¡± for the green tapestries depicting trees and other flowers. A cozy little salon close to the duke¡¯s accommodations.


    DeVale still got there before Duke George Louis managed it.


    A servant led the count inside, and Lane felt her heart beat faster. She hadn¡¯t faced deVale alone since the day David had killed the lynx in the hunt for her favour. He¡¯d never quite taken her seriously before that. Would he try to rip it all out of her hands now? Did he know how to handle the thousands of refugees coming into the city? Or would he think he could do better?


    His gaze travelled around the room. When he realised that there was no one else, he looked at her sharply. His cheeks were gaunt and his eyes sunken, somehow masking the rather weak chin. His uniform was dirty and torn. Of the obnoxious peacock that had bothered her so, there was very little left.


    After a second of silence, he bowed deeply.


    ¡°Lady deLande. Did I understand correctly that I am to present myself to you?¡±


    ¡°I believe Duke Stuard will join us momentarily,¡± Lane replied. ¡°Please, sit. You must be exhausted.¡±


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    He smelled faintly of old sweat, but smoke and gunpowder were stronger on him.


    ¡°What¡ªis the duke¡¯s condition?¡± deVale asked. He waited until she moved to sit before slowly taking a seat himself.


    ¡°His condition is good, considering the circumstances.¡±


    ¡°Which are shite,¡± Duke Stuard drawled, joining them.


    ¡°Your Highness!¡± deVale jumped to his feet at once, looking both shocked at his appearance and scandalised at his words.


    The duke waved him off as he bowed. ¡°Sit. Sit. I hope you have at least some good news. What¡¯s going on in the south? Where¡¯s David?¡±


    DeVale looked back and forth between Lane and Duke Stuard, but sat down again. ¡°Lord Feleke chose to stay behind, to harass the Grande Arm¨¦e with the remaining werewolves. He sent eleven of them with Marquess deBurg to Southshire, to secure the Berrin river against the Rot and to retake the provinces there.¡±


    ¡°Why secure the Berrin against the Rot? What battle is David expecting to give the Valoise that the Rot would be an issue that deep in the south?¡± Stuard asked.


    DeVale hesitated again, this time looking the duke up and down. Lane wondered what he would make of Stuard¡¯s ruddy skin, the yellow around his eyes. The still swollen legs and belly. He certainly didn¡¯t look very kingly right now.


    ¡°He decided our only way to win is to raise it,¡± deVale finally said. ¡°Lord Feleke said he will raise the Rot. He is raiding villages as we speak, sending the people north, burning the fields and slaughtering every animal he comes across. A scorched earth tactic. No doubt he will use the werewolves to drive the Rot against the enemy, too. And to bite as many of them as possible. I have been sending riders ahead to warn the population, too. That is why we did not take the train as soon as we reached a railhead.¡±


    That explained the sudden increase in refugees.


    ¡°He said¡ªhe said if the people of Loegrion insisted on calling him Lord Relentless, he should show them the true meaning of that word.¡±


    Lane shuddered at the reference. She thought Duke Stuard shook, too. He caught himself, though.


    ¡°Of course he did,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°I do not know if he¡¯s aware yet you survived, Your Highness,¡± deVale added. ¡°According to the last word we had received before we parted ways, you were lying on the deathbed. His mother, too.¡±


    ¡°And he decided to burn down the Heartlands in revenge? I¡¯m touched,¡± the duke said dryly.


    DeVale didn¡¯t look happy. ¡°The Rot is the only hope we have left to defeat the enemy,¡± he said. ¡°Lord Feleke did mention he worried you would make him a scapegoat for that.¡±


    Stuard sighed. ¡°Why am I not surprised by that, either?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Will you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    DeVale looked at him intently. ¡°I approved of Lord Feleke¡¯s plan. It would be nice to know now if you are going to hang him out to dry for it.¡±


    The duke sighed again. ¡°Half of Loegrion¡¯s higher nobility is in a worse or similar state as I am,¡± he pointed out. ¡°The other half still needs to prove they weren¡¯t in on this plot to murder us. There¡¯s nobody to make him a scapegoat for. Asides, I don¡¯t have a better plan to deal with the Valoise.¡±


    He looked at Lane. ¡°Can the werewolves hold back the Rot? Stop it from getting beyond the White Torrent? Or into Deva?¡±


    ¡°I believe so,¡± Lane said. ¡°We will need to spread them out along the river, possibly reinforce the source.¡±


    She¡¯d have to ask Laurent to replace Fenn. Move Pierre a bit upriver, keep Morgulon in Deva, split up Monroe and Malina. Have one of the true elders at each fifth of the river, roughly. Spread out what few stable werewolves remained between them. Not much longer until the survivors from the village outside Deeshire were stable, that would give them a bit more flexibility¡­


    ¡°Who is taking over command of the army?¡± deVale asked.


    ¡°Do you intend to step down?¡± Duke Stuard asked back.


    Again, deVale looked to Lane and back to the duke. ¡°There are still generals of Loegrion left, are there not?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Well, then I¡¯ll promote you,¡± the duke said, waving with a shaking hand. ¡°Unless you don¡¯t want the position.¡±


    At least he seemed to be mentally fully present today.


    To Lane¡¯s surprise, the count appeared to seriously think about the question. ¡°While I will gladly accept a promotion, I believe I would like to discuss the matter of high command with General Vermount first,¡± he said slowly. ¡°This is not the moment for infighting in the officer corps.¡±


    ¡°By all means,¡± the duke sighed. He stared down at his hand, gripping the armrest of his chair weakly. ¡°Tell me, do you believe Lord Feleke¡¯s plan to be feasible? What state were his troops in¡ªand he?¡±


    ¡°There are about two hundred werewolves with Lord Feleke,¡± deVale said. ¡°We were mostly out of food by the time we parted ways, but I believe the werewolves to be quite resourceful in that regard. There were certainly more of the older ones left, who¡¯ll generally be experienced at surviving in the wilds. Several of the convicts deserted, though if I¡¯m not very much mistaken, the captains may yet call them back to the fight. We left them with a musket each and all the powder and ammunition they could carry. I believe Lord Feleke intends to resupply by raiding the enemy.¡±


    ¡°And how was David?¡± Lane asked, before the duke could try again. ¡°Was he¡ªwell? All things considered?¡±


    For a moment, she thought he wouldn¡¯t answer, but then deVale inclined his head to her. ¡°As my messenger probably let you know, your fiance was captured by the enemy for a time. He received a blow to the head during the battle, but appeared to have recovered quite well by the time we freed him. The werewolves managed to recover his weaponry, too, so he is well armed. I cannot think of a better man to lead the werewolves, and they said themselves that this is what they do best.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Of course.¡± DeVale paused. ¡°I do hope he will return to you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Lane whispered. ¡°I wish I could be there.¡±


    ¡°It seems to me that you are exactly where you were meant to be,¡± the count said. ¡°Unless my messenger exaggerated your feats here?¡±


    ¡°They were not,¡± Duke Stuard said before Lane could say anything.


    Lane had to fight the urge to duck her head and avoid deVale¡¯s admiring gaze. ¡°I believe Lord Mire has prepared accommodations for you,¡± she quickly changed the topic. ¡°You must be tired. And I can arrange for you to meet General Vermount. He¡¯s in charge of training the new recruits.¡±


    ¡°Today would be good,¡± deVale said. ¡°Though I¡¯ll take a change of clothes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it,¡± Lane said. ¡°If the gentlemen will excuse me.¡±

 Chapter 190

    Late in the afternoon, the sun broke through the clouds, briefly treating David and the werewolves to a rainbow that felt like a mockery of the blood they kept spilling. When they arrived at the designated campsite, everything smelled of wet grass and leaves, and David¡¯s headache faded a little as the Rot disappeared back to wherever it went. He couldn¡¯t tell if that was because of the change in weather, or because he was surrounded by most of his force.


    The werewolves were keeping it simple: just a few holes to light fires in, and bigger ones for latrines¡ªwell away from where the food was being prepared. They had no tents, or bedrolls, no rum rations or cooks to prepare food, nor any of the other accommodations the Valoise dragged along. Nobody complained, though. The older werewolves were used to doing without, and the unsettled ones were getting used to sleeping as wolves quickly.


    David wandered around, checking on his guard postings, and the unsettled veterans, with Vigo following him around closely as a bodyguard. New moon was coming fast, and he could never trust that none of the unsettled ones would lose themselves to madness ahead of schedule. Once he was happy with their security, he found Fleur, who was in charge of the goods they had raided¡ªboth the silver armour and the food stores¡ªto see what they had left and what he wanted from that. Supplies weren¡¯t a problem yet¡ªthey were still getting plenty of food from the villages they burned every day ahead of the Valoisian army. And of course the pisscoats¡¯ own supply trains.


    In fact, he had just sat down to roast some meat on a stick, when Ragna and Rust returned from one of their runs. Their human faces and hands were covered in flecks of dried blood, roughly scrubbed off. Just from killing lifestock, David hoped, but he didn¡¯t ask.


    While they settled down with their own food, he just hummed to himself, one of the more catchy hymns of the Valoise. It had been stuck in his head since he had heard it sung in the camp at Port Neaf.


    ¡°Do you believe in Mithras?¡±


    David blinked at the question. He¡¯d been very carefully not to think about anything beyond dinner. The werewolves had even liberated some salt from one of the farmhouses. Apparently, Ragna¡¯s question hadn¡¯t been an idle one, though. She was looking at him across the fire pit with intention.


    David shook his head.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Ragna wanted to know.


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    The Elder waved the knife at him that she had been using to scrape the worst dirt of a carrot. ¡°Lots of hunters are in it for religion, right? And even the ones who aren¡¯t, they still use Mithras as a justification, don¡¯t they? For killing us.¡±


    ¡°Lip service, if anything,¡± David shrugged. ¡°Lots of Loegrians don¡¯t really believe. My mother¡¯s gods are older than the Church of Mithras. And my father doesn¡¯t believe in much at all.¡±


    ¡°So what about you?¡± Ragna asked.


    David turned the skewer over so his meat wouldn¡¯t burn. ¡°I believe in fire,¡± he said finally. ¡°And silver. I believe in the moon and the Morgulon, because I have no other choice at this point than to pray she can rid this land of the Rot we unleashed. Somehow.¡±


    Whatever she thought she had seen in him¡ªwhatever strength she had thought he possessed when she had asked for his oath¡ªhe prayed she was right. That he really could make a difference. However small it would be. That he hadn¡¯t damned hundreds, if not thousands, of civilians to death for nothing at all.


    ¡°The Red might help,¡± Rust said slowly from his other side. ¡°He¡¯s skittish, and he doesn¡¯t trust humans, but if we clear out the Valoise, he might help. If the Morgulon asks him.¡±


    If they cleared out the Valoise.


    There were barely two hundred werewolves with him, and still close to sixty thousand pisscoats, despite their best efforts.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me, though,¡± Ragna returned to her original question. ¡°Why you were hunting us.¡±


    Oh. So that was what she was after.


    ¡°Just¡ªsame reason everyone else went out there,¡± David said.


    Ragna scoffed. ¡°No way. I know greed is a powerful motivator. But there is no way you became ¡®the Relentless¡¯ for money.¡±


    ¡°Money.¡± David considered that. ¡°That¡¯s how it started, sure. My mother and Greg came down with the plague. My uncle¡ªmy father¡¯s old partner¡ªhad died recently, and he was far less successful alone. Also, quite sick. But mother and Greg¡­ They wouldn¡¯t have survived without magic. Which was expensive, in the middle of a plague. So I stole my father¡¯s crossbow and went to kill a werewolf.¡±


    He poked at the fire. ¡°I saw a lot of amateurs try their hands at it. Watched some of them get bitten. Even let one get away myself. Was also the one who discovered the village he massacred a week later. You could call it a bit of a¡ªformative experience. Given that I was fourteen at the time.¡±


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    He stared down at the stick in his hands. ¡°I swore to never let that happen again. And I didn¡¯t. Until it was Greg.¡±


    ¡°Not having much luck in life, do you?¡± Rust commented. He leaned forwards, closer to the fire than David had ever seen him get. ¡°So tell us. What¡¯s with you and the duke?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not unusual amongst the packs in the mountains,¡± Ragna added, before David could even try and deny anything, or come up with a lie. ¡°Even more so since so many more men get bitten than women.¡±


    Morgulon hadn¡¯t said anything to them, had she? That wasn¡¯t like her?


    ¡°If you already know,¡± David replied, ¡°why even ask?¡±


    ¡°We know he¡¯s been chasing after you,¡± Rust said. ¡°And that you¡¯re not principally opposed. But you are also known to look at him like you want to strangle him anytime he opens his mouth.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m tempted to do so a few times a day, yes.¡±


    Unfortunately, the levity didn¡¯t make the two elders let up.


    ¡°Ever kiss him?¡± Ragna asked.


    ¡°That is none of your business.¡±


    ¡°Well, in some ways it is,¡± Rust said. ¡°We¡¯ve been wondering, you see. You told the other two lords that whoever survives the war of you three might become king.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± David sighed. ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ What if the duke also survives?¡±


    ¡°I don''t see how he could. And I don''t see how it would matter, either way. It¡¯s too late to change course, and he will hardly thank me for setting the Heartlands on fire.¡±


    ¡°What if we¡¯d prefer you as king over him?¡± Ragna asked.


    David rubbed his face wearily. ¡°Do I get a say in that question?¡±


    When the elders just tilted their heads, David groaned. ¡°Look. I don¡¯t want the crown. My time as ¡®head of werewolf affairs¡¯ were some of the worst months of my life. The last thing I want is to have to deal with all the policies, all the damn time.¡±


    He took a deep breath. ¡°If I have to, I¡¯ll do it. Or rather, I¡¯ll probably make Greg do it and just glare until people do as he says. And it¡¯s going to be bad, because I¡¯ll be effectively a tyrant, ruling through fear. The people of the Heartlands are even less likely to forgive me for what we¡¯re doing here than George Louis, and unless they die by the thousands¡ªmillions¡ªthey¡¯ll still be making up the majority of Loegrion¡¯s people. But I¡¯ll do it. If that¡¯s the way to keep you all safe, I¡¯ll take the crown.¡±


    He poked the fire. ¡°It¡¯s far more likely to make your situation worse though¡ªeventually. There will be backlash against me, sooner or later. One day, I¡¯ll be old and less scary, and I doubt I¡¯d be succeeded peacefully by an heir of my choosing.¡±


    He doubted he¡¯d even have time to become old and frail, but he didn¡¯t say that. Ragna and Rust were already nodding silently.


    ¡°If I have to take the crown, I¡¯ll do it,¡± David repeated. Because he needed them to believe he wouldn¡¯t bolt at the final hurdle. ¡°But I¡¯m the worst option, I think. I picked you over the Heartlands. We need someone who can unite the country. Maybe deVale can do it. Or even deBurg, though I doubt the northern nobles would follow him.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why you sent deVale away?¡± Ragna asked.


    David shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t really think of all this until we started burning the villages.¡±


    Until he had seen the devastation they were leaving behind.


    Could Lane be that uniting influence by his side? Or would she be linked too closely to him? If they really did marry.


    Could Greg do it?


    The rustle of paper pulled David back into the here and now. Rust held a crumpled newspaper in his hands.


    ¡°Here¡¯s why we were wondering about the duke,¡± the elder said.


    When he unfolded it, the first thing David saw was a picture of Lane, standing outside the palace of Deva, hands clasped behind her back. Morgulon was there, too.


    ¡°Werewolf Miracle,¡± the headline said. ¡°Victims of deathcap on the mend,¡± followed underneath.


    ¡°We knew there was something going on,¡± Ragna said. ¡°I think Pierre and the Morgulon fought. Right before full moon. Pierre stopped trying to call us back, afterwards. And there was some big magic somewhere north. When we saw this¡­Well. I think I can guess what happened.¡±


    David barely heard her. Imani¡ªdid this mean she lived, too? Her, and George Louis, and maybe even deBurg¡¯s wife and daughter¡­


    Was that even possible?


    ¡°How¡­do you really think Morgulon could have enough magic to save them all? There weren¡¯t enough healers in all of Breachpoint to save Rover¡­And there had to have been, what, half a dozen people lying sick?¡±


    ¡°More,¡± Rust said. ¡°At least your fianc¨¦e makes it sound like there were more. And it does sound like they were all saved.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget that they have half a dozen elders older than me at Deva,¡± Ragna pointed out.


    ¡°Living sources of magic,¡± David muttered, skimming the article.


    It really did sound like all the sick were saved. And yes, that included Lady deBurg. So that meant Imani, too, surely? And George Louis¡­


    ¡°What are you going to do now?¡± Rust interrupted his thoughts.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± David said. ¡°Or rather, nothing I wasn¡¯t going to do anyways. We still have to beat the Grande Arm¨¦e. George Louis being alive doesn¡¯t really open up any new options for us.¡±


    It would just make it more painful if they named him a traitor and stood him in front of a wall, once the war was over.


    ¡°What if the duke tries to get rid of us after the war?¡± Ragna asked.


    ¡°He won¡¯t,¡± David said softly. ¡°He can¡¯t. Not until you contained the Rot for him. Which is going to take decades, I reckon. It might well be his son on the throne by then. Who was quite eager to meet his werewolf-mother.¡±


    ¡°So¡­¡± Ragna said slowly, ¡°the worse we let the Rot-infestation get here¡­¡±


    ¡°There are sixty thousand enemy soldiers out there,¡± David reminded her. ¡°And we¡¯ll have to kill most of them. How can we possibly let this get worse?¡±


    He shook himself. ¡°Let''s get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be hard enough. Can I keep this?¡±


    When Rust nodded, he rubbed the picture on the article. They had pulled it off, hadn¡¯t they? Lane, beating the Valoise with their own faith. And the bloody Morgulon.


    He should have trusted in her power. He really should have.

 Chapter 191

    David woke before sunrise the next morning. For a minute, he just lay in the shallow depression he had filled with moss last night, shuddering. Not because of the temperature, but at the thought of what the day would bring. The faintest sliver of the moon was just rising above the meadow. When it set in the afternoon, it wouldn¡¯t come up again for a couple of days.


    They still needed to slow down the Valoise.


    So David pushed himself up and shouldered his crossbow like he had done a hundred¡ªa thousand times before. Reached for his sword and sabre and the pistols George Louis had given him. He hadn¡¯t often had to wake an army of werewolves in the morning, but it was starting to feel familiar, too. It was amazing how fast you got inured to being surrounded by naked people.


    They grumbled and muttered to each other, many of them forgoing clothes and turning wolf right away, if they hadn''t slept through the night in that shape anyway. Fleur and her helpers got breakfast ready while David splashed some water into his face and rubbed as much of the moss and dirt off his clothes as he could reach.


    He knew the werewolves were watching him, the only human in the whole camp. He tried not to let it bother him as he used the latrines. Which he was glad to abandon soon.


    Maybe he should focus his worries on how to stop a plague from going through the small army. Was that something werewolves had to worry about? Diarrhoea?


    None of that was on the werewolves¡¯ minds, of course. They were probably thinking of the plan for today and wondering if he was out of his.


    Time to show the pisscoats why they should fear him.


    The Valoise probably felt quite safe today, given that it was almost new moon and there wasn¡¯t a single cloud in sky. Together with the quickly building summer heat, it was enough to keep the Rot in the ground. David didn¡¯t even have a hint of a headache.


    Maybe that was the reason why the Valoise had delayed their attack until summer? Or part of the reason. The army they had sent was bigger than David had ever imagined. Likely, even the Empire had needed time to muster that many troops.


    David shook himself. Focus. This was like one of the bad hunts, when the werewolf was barely a teenager, where you felt dirty before you even set out. It didn¡¯t matter how much he hated what was to come.


    They still needed to slow the enemy. Teach them the meaning of terror.


    ¡°Get ready,¡± he told Rust and Ragna. ¡°We move out in half an hour.¡±


    He barely ate anything himself, checking his weapons again, and then made sure his horse was ready for combat, too. He was sweating in his leather clothes before they even got moving, cursing softly that he hadn¡¯t taken more shirts for changing.


    It was better to focus on how uncomfortable he was with the heat and the weather than to think about the werewolves all around. He needed them to do as he said, to walk into the rain of bullets when he told them to. And he had no way of making them do anything. All he could do was tell Rust and Ragna what he wanted to happen and pray that they would back him.


    Once, the two elders may have feared him. But today? They had to know that they could rip him apart before he even knew he was under attack.


    It was a thought that was hard to banish when he was about to ask them to go into battle with him. For him. How did the enemy generals deal with that? How were they not aware, every second of the day, that their men¡ªyounger than them, fitter than them, and well armed¡ªoutnumbered them and their officer corps by the thousands?


    Did they trust in the incentive of money alone? The social contract? Fear?


    At least his soldiers had something to fight for.


    When the time came to move out, he climbed into the saddle, doing his best to look as if there wasn¡¯t a single doubt in his mind that the werewolves would follow him when he said: ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    And amazingly, they did. Splitting into their assigned groups as they went¡ªwolves, for now. For a few more hours.


    It wasn¡¯t hard to find the enemy.


    By the time the sun was fully up, the Grande Arm¨¦e marched onwards towards Deva, like a fat snake slithering across the country. Not fast. But steadily. David thought it was rather relentless in that regard itself. The Valoisian officers were certainly not sparing their soldiers. Or animals, for that matter.


    Unfortunately, neither could he.


    ¡°Ready?¡± he asked. All he got was a soft growl in answer.


    There were only six werewolves with him today, but one of them was Ragna. She still limped a little, but had refused to stay behind.


    ¡°On your mark then, Ragna,¡± David added.


    She nodded, ears flicking back and forth. Glancing left and right alongside the rows and rows of soldiers marching on. For a second, her eyes glowed blue and David felt just the faintest push of magic. He nudged his horse into a trot promptly, just as the werewolves started to move. Up the hill they jogged, and then down the other side, picking up speed. David rode at the edge of the line, so that he had room to swing when he drew his sabre. Bullets whistled past him left and right and at least one of the werewolves yelped in pain¡ªbut they kept going, six giant wolves and a cavalry horse. Into the gun smoke.


    They hit the lines of marching soldiers within the cloud right where they had planned to: where one section had lost the connection to the next one. David swung his sabre just once, felt it hit something¡ªhe thought he had gotten the man right in the neck, but he was already turning his horse¡ªhe swung again to block a bayonet coming for him¡ªthen he was away.


    The gelding snorted louder with every breath as they went up the hill once more. It was the loudest sound in the whole world. In the distance, a werewolf howled. Behind him, men screamed for mercy. Around him, six deadly shadows and one silver one flew along.


    The next volley of gunshots rang just as they crested the hill, but they were already beyond the muskets¡¯ effective range.


    Then they were below the hill and several of the wolves collapsed onto the ground, bodies distorting painfully. Even with Ragna right there, and a sliver of moon in the sky, it took them a few minutes to turn human and then wolf again.


    Well, the horse needed the time to catch his breath, anyway.


    ¡°Good work,¡± David said, when the last wolf was wagging his tail lazily. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    They trotted off, as fast as the horse could sustainably move. Towards the next meeting point, where another group was already splashing in the shallow water of a riverbend to wash off the blood.


    Because they hadn¡¯t hit the Valoise just once, but thirty times, all on Ragna¡¯s signal. In and out like the wind that refused to blow on this terribly hot day.


    Two hours later, they did it again.


    And then again half an hour later.


    And one final time, right before the moon set.


    Then new moon was upon them, and there was no more healing, safe for Ragna and maybe Rust. If she was close enough. But that didn¡¯t mean David was going to call off the attack.


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    He did wait until well after night had fallen. He wanted the pisscoats to feel nice and relaxed, trusting in the moonless dark, before he hit them again. This time, they attacked three campsites with thirty soldiers each, while the other half of their numbers rested¡ªtheir turn would come with the very first light of pre-dawn.


    The night attacks were sneak attacks. Really, they were raids. They needed blackpowder and ammunition if they were to continue fighting. Muskets, too. Clothes. Food.


    And David had offered three days of ¡°kitchen service¡± with Fleur to the soldiers who stole that damn fur coat from the Levant¡¯s wardrobe carriage. Or proof that it had been destroyed.


    Was it petty? Probably.


    David did warn the soldiers not to take any unnecessary risks while they hunted the prince¡¯s valuables, but he wanted the bastard to suffer at least some discomfort. Not that a lack of fine clothes was in any way sufficient to punish him for what he was doing.


    Ragna, Rust and David himself served as distractions for the raiders, walking¡ªor riding, in David¡¯s case¡ªup to the enemy camps to make sure their attention was not on the supplies they were supposed to guard. When the guards started shooting at him, he retreated out of range, came back, and repeated the manoeuvre a few times. Until the soldiers in Ragna¡¯s camp lit something on fire that blew up with enough noise to ensure nobody even looked at him.


    David smiled grimly as he disappeared in the darkness. He should make that part of the plan for the raids in the morning. Maybe even go in himself¡ªno, that was too risky. He couldn¡¯t get caught.


    It was a fine line between sharing the risks his soldiers took and downright foolishness. He really wished he had General Clermont by his side to help tell the difference.


    The werewolves didn¡¯t get the ermine coat. And Ragna got shot again. A lucky hit, or possibly a sharpshooter. It was lucky on Ragna¡¯s side, too, because it was a common lead bullet. And while it did shatter her shoulder blade, she managed to limp away quickly enough for the Valoise not to give chase.


    And a few minutes later, she was as good as new again.


    That had to be frustrating for the enemy, right?


    Provided they had even seen her transformation.


    Once they made camp again, David looked over his troops. Vigo bared his teeth at him and Millie was holding onto her musket with both hands. Boris and Fleur sat together in silence, staring up at him when he went past. Nobody was resting, even though he had split his forces just so they could.


    Fortunately, this was something David actually felt qualified to address. If there was one thing he knew how to do, then it was conserving strength for the long haul.


    ¡°Go rest,¡± he told Neville, who grinned at him, snapped a salute without standing up, then promptly let himself fall back into a pile of leaves.


    ¡°We can¡ªjust go and sleep?¡± Jody asked.


    ¡°Yes! In fact, please go take a nap,¡± David said. ¡°Save every bit of energy you can! We¡¯ll be fighting for weeks, so if you aren¡¯t on duty? Take every second of rest possible.¡±


    Especially on new moon.


    The camp finally quietened¡ªmostly, at least¡ªas David went around. There were guards up, sure, and they would need to be relieved soon. But there was still a couple of hours of sleep left for everyone.


    Which not everyone appreciated.


    David returned to Fleur and Boris last. They both sat atop the small army¡¯s only wagon, wide eyed and twitching as soon as he approached.


    ¡°Get some rest yourself,¡± Boris growled at him when David came by. ¡°I¡¯m not dealing with the dreams.¡±


    David shrugged and settled down on the ground. ¡°Think I¡¯ve never been there?¡± he asked. ¡°Do you think werewolf hunters never lose anyone near and dear while on the hunt?¡±


    Boris glared at him, but didn¡¯t answer.


    Pulling out one of the steel dowels from his quiver, David went on: ¡°I know that feeling. When you feel like you can¡¯t stop. Like you¡¯re letting someone down if you sit down to eat. That thought that if you just push yourself a little more you can avenge whoever you lost.¡±


    He turned the dowel slowly between his fingers. ¡°That feeling is a lie. And because I knew to ignore that lie is why you feared me. Or still fear me, who knows.¡±


    He flipped the little arrow up into the air, caught it again. ¡°If you want the pisscoats to fear you¡ªand everyone else here¡ªyou¡¯re going to have to learn to ignore that little voice in your head, Boris. Because chances are, we¡¯re still going to be here next new moon.¡±


    He laid back himself then, closing his eyes and dozing off, trusting in the new moon and the guards to keep him safe.


    ***


    Three days after new moon, finally, some clouds appeared on the bright blue sky. First just a few silvery patches, but by noon, they had grown to the full towering dark grey mountains that promised more than just rain.


    He wondered if the Valoise knew what it meant. From what he could see of the fat snake in the distance, it didn¡¯t look like they were making camp. So they probably had no idea what a big thunderstorm was like in Loegrion.


    ¡°Going to be a big one,¡± Rust commented. ¡°Given the heat we had.¡±


    David whipped some sweat off his face and pulled out the spyglass deVale had left him. Glass or not, there still was no sign the Valoise were going to find shelter. ¡°We really could have used that earlier,¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°Better late than never,¡± Rust replied. ¡°Do we change the plan for today?¡±


    David folded up the spyglass again, and stared up at the clouds instead. Finally, he shook his head. ¡°I reckon it¡¯s going to take a few more hours for that to break,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll continue with the harassment until then, pull back when the rain starts. Don¡¯t want you and Ragna to get between the Rot and the pisscoats.¡±


    ¡°Don''t want to give them a half day of quiet, either,¡± Rust finished for him.


    David nodded. Their attacks were needle points at best anyway. In and out too fast for the enemy to react. Bite a soldier¡ªor three¡ªand escape. David joined in more for morale than anything else. There wasn''t time to fight and kill: they were relying on the Valoise to finish off the bitten men themselves.


    Would Clermont still call him too soft-hearted if he could see him now? Would the old man be satisfied? Maybe even impressed? They hadn¡¯t given the Valoise more than a few hours of breathing time, attacking day and night, never at set intervals. There had to be way over a thousand dead pisscoats, if not more, and only two dead werewolves so far.


    Well, that wasn¡¯t counting the four mad ones David had made Ragna and Rust run into the enemy lines yesterday with the final bit of control they had over them. That was easily the most deadly ¡°attack¡± they had staged since the werewolves had broken the prisoners out of the camp.


    And they¡¯d been fighting without the Rot for backup. So far.


    Now, the enemy would finally learn what lurked in Loegrion¡¯s soil.


    Despite the heat and the pressure in the air, David felt lighter as he rode along the line of marching soldiers, looking for an opening. It was becoming routine, the same way hunting werewolves had been routine. Find the groups that were marching alone, the broken down wagon, the lame ox or mule, the single soldier who had stepped into the trees to take a piss.


    And then kill them.


    He didn¡¯t even feel dirty anymore even when he was covered in blood, listening to the screams of the injured and dying. It was exactly like killing werewolves. Killing monsters.


    He should probably feel bad about that, shouldn¡¯t he? But he couldn¡¯t muster the energy. He couldn¡¯t talk about it with the other soldiers, either¡ªRust and Ragna would just think him a hypocrite, and the rest of them didn¡¯t need to be burdened with the ethics of the situation.


    Four more men died from his blade in three more attacks. He had never gotten close to killing so many werewolves in a single day.


    Meeting point?, Rust asked, pulling him out of his reverie.


    David glanced up. The storm clouds overhead had started to move together and blot out the sun. The wind was picking up, too.


    ¡°Yeah, call everyone together.¡±


    But before Rust could do so, they heard a high-pitched jowling up ahead, and what sounded like a very angry horse.


    Rust took off at a sprint, through the forest they had used for cover, dragging the rest of their attack group along. David cursed and spurred his horse to sprint after the wolves. The gelding stretched himself with what David always thought was anticipation. He didn¡¯t even slow down when Rust used the trick Monroe had taught him.


    It sent a group of Valoisian light cavalry into panicked flight, stopping them from finishing off the half dozen werewolves they had been after. With Rust there, four of them transformed easily. Two were dead.


    Rust¡¯s attention though was on the pisscoat who had been thrown from the saddle.


    He was a man even darker of skin than David. When David raised his sabre, he didn¡¯t reach for his own pistol, or sword. Instead, he dropped to his knees and raised his empty hands.


    David lowered the weapon. ¡°Bite him,¡± he ordered. ¡°But carefully.¡±


    The strange soldier didn''t flinch when one of the giant wolves he had just been about to kill walked over, biting him just deep enough to draw blood.


    ¡°You survive¡ªa month,¡± David said, hoping that the stranger understood his mangled Valoise, ¡°you come find us.¡±


    With that, he turned his horse away, leaving the man kneeling there.


    They hadn''t even gotten out of sight when the thunder roared and the first heavy drops of rain splattered across the horse¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Think he can survive the Rot?¡± David asked, glancing back at the soldier who was still kneeling in the dirt, looking dazed.


    Possibly, Rust answered.

 Chapter 192

    The Rot was simply part of warfare. Marshall Allard had never paid it much heed; after all, that was what chasseurs were for. That was why they got to swagger around in head-to-toe silver armour and pull as much pay as a cavalry lieutenant, despite the fact that they all came from the most common of stock and had no education, no craft beyond hitting things that shouldn¡¯t move till they stopped moving.


    For a Marshall of the Grande Armee, the Rot was simply something to work around. Much like the weather. Something to consider, but not fear. After all, who feared the rain?


    Allard was starting to fear both: the rain and the Rot it brought forth. It could happen anywhere, any time. Even salted ground wasn¡¯t safe around the butchers¡¯ tents. His head ached, despite the alchemy his tent had been soaked in and the consecrated candles burning on the desk.


    The rain pelted the tarpaulin. Soldiers cursed just outside and a terrible smell made Allard freeze, despite the chain of silver around his neck. Something harried the tent flaps, creating bright white sparks before it pulled away. Allard didn¡¯t move until a chasseur poked his silver helmet inside, then followed it up with enough of an arm to salute.


    ¡°All taken care of, Sir,¡± he reported, and closed the tent firmly.


    Allard cursed and got to his feet, mostly to prove to himself that he could. Pacing up and down the tent, listening for more attacks.


    This was the fourth day of rain and sun in quick succession, and there was no sign of it stopping. It was as if Loegrion tried to make up for the dry spell they had enjoyed around new moon. A few short days to lure them in and make them feel safe.


    And in a week, it would be full moon again.


    As if the storms weren¡¯t bad enough, there were the bloody werewolves, who walked right through the Rot with no fear of the consequences. Led by that crazy werewolf hunter¡ªif that was truly what he was. He seemed quite cosy with the monsters. Maybe that was why he didn¡¯t seem to even feel the Rot. He certainly wasn¡¯t wearing silver armour.


    Lord Relentless, the Loggies called him.


    The Honourable David Feleke. A baron¡¯s son of a family no one in Rambouillet had ever even heard about. A man who hadn¡¯t joined the Loggy army until after he had pulled off the victory at Oldstone Castle. Who had never risen through the ranks, or studied the art of war. Not even on paper.


    And yet, there was a man who would not stop, no matter how deep the blood flowed.


    Marshall Allard stopped at his little folding desk, to stare down at the latest reports of the dead and injured. And worse, the material losses.


    A howl in the distance chilled his bones.


    The Rot wouldn¡¯t have been a problem by itself, and the werewolves wouldn¡¯t have been a problem. But they always came together. There were even a couple of reports by trustworthy officers that the damn Feleke used himself to bait out the Rot, draw it towards the most valuable supplies¡ªand as soon as the chasseurs went in to protect the goods, the barrage from the werewolves followed.


    Weren¡¯t they supposed to be afraid of silver? But they kept making away with the full suits of armour. And the horses, too.


    Not a single day went by without a fight, even though their intelligence was certain the Loegrian army had run all the way to Deva. To where Duke Stuard had¡ªsomehow¡ªsurvived.


    Marshall Allard had served with Stuard, a long time ago. Back when the duke had still been a marques. A young major who had bought his commission for the prestige but didn¡¯t have the stomach for battle. A failed soldier who much preferred the officers¡¯ mess over the actual fighting. Good at making connections, but useless as an officer.


    How had that socialite coward won the loyalty of a man like the blasted Feleke?


    Maybe the Inquisition would find an answer to that question. Soon as they captured the man. And they would catch him. Sooner or later, he¡¯d run out of monsters.


    Allard sighed and threw himself back into the comfortable chair his men logged around for him. An aide jumped to offer him refreshments at once. Such luxury was the privilege of an Imperial  marshall.


    Unlike the Levant and his favourite¡ªMarshall Soto¡ªAllard hadn¡¯t grown up like this. He came from a rather poor earldom in an eastern province, and had been forced to rise through the ranks entirely on merit. Not that Soto wasn¡¯t capable enough. Even money and connections couldn¡¯t buy a marshall¡¯s staff.


    They did make it far easier to be considered, though. Allard could have thought of several generals off the top of his head who he would have preferred to be in Soto¡¯s place.


    Allard turned the glass in his hands. He felt a certain kinship with the Feleke in that regard. A baron¡¯s son, from an unimportant family. They might have fought side by side, if it hadn¡¯t been a Loegrian family. If the ¡°Relentless¡± hadn¡¯t decided to side with monsters.


    What a waste.


    Allard balled a fist. How did you deal with a bunch of beast-people?


    At a generous estimation, there were three hundred werewolves of the original group left. Probably significantly less. Possibly half as many. They were roaming the countryside in packs of less than a dozen¡ªsometimes coming together to stage an attack thirty or fifty strong, but never more than that, making it hard to judge their actual number. It shouldn¡¯t be difficult to wipe them out in one single concentrated attack.


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    And yet, here they were.


    Their coordination was remarkable. Quite possibly magical. And they were much faster than most troops Allard could send after them, unburdened by riders or heavy weaponry.


    If their bite weren¡¯t infectious¡­


    Allard shook his head at himself. If it weren¡¯t for the damn curse they spread, he would have just ignored them, giant, magically healing wolves or not. But he couldn¡¯t do that with these monsters or he¡¯d be forced to kill half his army himself. Was the Feleke aware of what that meant for morale? Having to execute men who were unharmed safe from a small scratch? Men who had done nothing wrong? Who had served long and loyally?


    Thrown away for what they might become.


    He did know, didn¡¯t he? A werewolf hunter had to know.


    ¡°What a monster,¡± Allard muttered to himself, smiling grimly. They should have killed him when they had the chance.


    ¡°Who?¡±


    Allard rolled his eyes before he turned around to bow to the prince who had barged in with a couple of Imperial Guards. No doubt there were more of them outside.


    ¡°Your Highness. I was musing on this ¡®Lord Relentless.¡¯ I have never seen anyone but the Inquisition weaponize the Rot like this. Let alone the werewolves. For a heathen to take that risk¡­¡±


    ¡°Monstrous indeed,¡± the prince muttered. ¡°What do you intend to do about it?¡±


    In the distance, another alarm was blown. Allard pulled out his pocket watch. Six hours this time. The attacks were slowing down after all. Which made sense, too. With the change in weather, the Rot was enough of a nuisance to slow the Grande Arm¨¦e down all on its own.


    No point of tiring out his own people more than necessary. The Relentless might have no formal education, but he wasn¡¯t stupid.


    That being said. How many more of his own villages could he raid before he lost the backing of his duke?


    ¡°He¡¯s got to be running his beasts ragged at his rate,¡± Allard said slowly. ¡°He¡¯s depending on the Rot for support. Which makes me think that the solution to this problem is rather simple: We head for the coast. Let the sea guard one of our flanks. Clearly, we will not be taking Deva as easily as planned. So why give him what he wants? Head for Deggan instead. Reinforce there, sail up the river, and Deva is ours.¡±


    The prince didn¡¯t look happy about this. ¡°Are you suggesting we run? From a few hundred werewolves?¡±


    ¡°Run?¡± Allard had a hard time not rolling his eyes again. ¡°We¡¯re not running, Your Highness. We simply won¡¯t give him the satisfaction of playing his game.¡±


    ¡°I like Marshall Soto¡¯s plan better.¡±


    Of course he did.


    ¡°I will look forward to hearing it,¡± Allard lied. He could just about picture how that plan looked like. If you didn¡¯t avoid the beasts, then cavalry was the only way to catch them. It was risky. Especially if you were up against a man as ruthless as the Relentless.


    It was ¡°taking the initiative¡± though, and the prince was big on that. Nobody wanted a reactive ruler.


    Soto¡¯s plan was exactly what Allard had feared.


    ¡°I suggest we divert to the west,¡± the other marshall said, when they discussed the issue over dinner. ¡°We take Erkford, and cross the Lessing with half our forces, into lands the werewolves haven¡¯t burned yet. Then we move towards Deva on both sides of the river.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t know the werewolves haven¡¯t been to the western shores yet,¡± Allard pointed out. ¡°And the Rot might have crossed it on its own, too.¡±


    He thought the werewolves probably hadn¡¯t started their scorched earth tactics on the other side of the river, given the hardship that would mean for their own people. He still didn¡¯t like the thought of splitting their forces. Given how much the Rot loved water, that just meant they would have two more flanks their limited number of chasseurs needed to protect.


    ¡°How is this going to help with the werewolf issue, anyway?¡± he asked.


    Soto glared at him. ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you¡¯re so focused on the bloody beasts,¡± he said, waving his fork. ¡°And in any case: Either, they make a stand and we kill them all at Erkford. Or they let us take the city and then will have to decide if they, too, want to split their much more limited forces.¡±


    ¡°Again, I don¡¯t see how that benefits us,¡± Allard replied. ¡°Even just a dozen of them are a pest we can¡¯t stomp out right now.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because they keep hitting us where we¡¯re least mobile,¡± Soto said. ¡°I¡¯ll take the cavalry over and our quickest troops. You keep the chasseurs and the artillery over here. That¡¯ll improve the ratio of chasseurs you have per high-value target. And if they try to attack the horses, we can finally ride them down.¡±


    ¡°And your men will live off the land?¡± Allard asked. ¡°If the werewolves do cross over and start burning fields, you¡¯ll starve.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not going to set the Rot loose in both halves of the heartlands, are they?¡± the prince intercepted.


    Marshall Allard inclined his head. ¡°Your Highness, we are dealing with a bunch of literal monsters and a man called ¡®Lord Relentless.¡¯ I rather believe that it would be unwise to expect them to behave as civilised people would.¡±


    Not that there was such a thing as civilised warfare. But that wasn¡¯t the point.


    The Levant chewed over his words. ¡°Is there a way to stop them from seeding the Rot on the other side of the Lessing, too? Loegrion won¡¯t be worth much if they do.¡±


    ¡°I rather believe that¡¯s the point,¡± Allard sighed. ¡°They¡¯d rather destroy it than let it fall back into our hands.¡±


    The prince¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°What are they going to do come winter?¡±


    ¡°They have the werewolves, Your Highness. It appears that the Loegrians¡ªor at the very least, Lord Feleke¡ªwould trust in their protection over that of the Empire.¡±


    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s not entirely unearned,¡± the Levant grumbled. ¡°I cannot quite believe our forefathers slaughtered the werewolves rather than using them. What a waste.¡±


    ¡°That is where my plan comes in, Your Highness,¡± Soto called attention back to himself. ¡°Their main goal appears to slow down our advance and wear down our troops, to whatever end. I therefore believe there is a reasonable chance they¡¯ll try to hold the Lessing crossing. If our intelligence is correct, the bridge is a fortified one, and Erkford has a garrison. They certainly won¡¯t get a better opportunity to fight us before we get to Deva.¡±


    ¡°Which is just another reason why I don¡¯t think we should give them one at all,¡± Allard sighed.


    ¡°We¡¯ll note it for our missive to our father,¡± the Levant said generously. ¡°If this plan fails, we can always move towards Deggan.¡±


    They¡¯d just lose a few thousand soldiers first. Soldiers they¡¯d be missing dearly once they stood in front of Deva¡¯s walls and tried to take a city of a million people with whatever remained of their army by then.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look like that, Allard,¡± Soto said. ¡°Those monsters are good in the open field, where they can strike and run. There¡¯s no room to run on a bridge.¡±


    If they took up the fight at all.


    Lord Relentless hadn¡¯t been seeking fame before the war, had he? There was no reason for him to launch a desperate attempt to defend a doomed city. Not unless he thought the conditions were truly favourable.


    Allard sighed. Maybe Soto was right. Maybe they should try to nail them down in battle, rather than running. Keep the monsters where they could see them.


    And if it went wrong, at least it wouldn¡¯t be his head.

 Chapter 193

    David met with Rust and Ragna for lunch. He tried to vary the times the three of them all sat down together, just in case the Valoise managed somehow to track their movements. It seemed unlikely¡ªmostly, the werewolves tracked the pisscoats¡ªbut he doubted he could be too careful at this point.


    They sat in the wet grass around a deep and narrow firepit, roasting small pieces of meat. David had done his best to limit the smoke that escaped, but there was always a little bit rising in the sun. Not that his companions worried about the smoke.


    ¡°They appear to be changing course,¡± Ragna noted. ¡°Going west.¡±


    ¡°Any idea what they might be doing, Rust?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Could just be they¡¯re hoping for better roads,¡± Rust shrugged. ¡°Maybe they¡¯re going to cross the river.¡±


    David looked up from poking the meat in surprise. ¡°Why on earth would they try to cross the Lessing?¡±


    ¡°Well, they might think they can get us in a pincer movement?¡± Rust scratched his beard. ¡°Or maybe they want to do that with Deva. Or first us, then Deva. Or maybe there¡¯s a city garrison they don¡¯t want at their back, though I can¡¯t think of one off the top of my head.¡±


    He grinned wryly. ¡°Sorry, but I can¡¯t read the minds of those fancy marshalls.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for trying,¡± David said.


    Rust crunched on the hard bread they had found in some deserted farmstead. After a moment he added: ¡°Could be we¡¯ve hampered their supply lines to the point where they want to make it into lands we haven¡¯t burned yet. Could just as easily be that they promised their soldiers looting rights and they want a city for them to raid to bring up morale. Might even be all of these. There¡¯s bound to be more than one reason, in any case.¡±


    ¡°What are we going to do?¡± Ragna asked.


    David mulled that over. He didn¡¯t have a map of the area, and it wasn¡¯t like Rust and Ragna had spent lots of time in the heartlands. He had a vague idea of where they were, but he wasn¡¯t even sure what the closest crossing over the Lessing was.


    ¡°I might have to ride ahead and find a city,¡± he admitted slowly. ¡°Figure out where exactly we are and if we¡¯re lucky, send a telegram to the palace. DeVale must have arrived by now, right? Perhaps he has an opinion on this. Or advice.¡±


    He also really wanted to know whether Imani was fine. And George Louis, too.


    ¡°I¡¯m tempted to just ignore this, otherwise,¡± he added. ¡°If they¡¯re hoping to loot a city, there¡¯s little we can do to stop them.¡±


    ¡°Be careful,¡± Ragna warned.


    ¡°Maybe we should go with you a way,¡± Rust suggested slyly. ¡°If we want to keep them off-balance, doing nothing for a couple of days might just be the thing. Give everyone a break, too.¡±


    ¡°We can take a small break,¡± David allowed. ¡°But you can¡¯t all come. I¡¯ll take a bodyguard, but the rest of you need to at least show themselves every now and then, to keep the pisscoats worried.¡±


    ***


    They ended up drawing lots for who got to go into the city with David. Or a city, given that nobody was quite sure which one it would be. Nine of them got the privilege, plus Rust to stay in contact with Ragna. Which was sure to cause panic when they returned to civilization. David had briefly considered taking only those who could pass as human, but really, what was the point? Given how they looked, they would cause a panic anyway.


    People would probably think they were deserters from one army or the other.


    He wasn¡¯t even sure if they would be wrong to think so.


    If they were lucky, they would find out.


    After a half day of quick travel, they reached the Lessing. If David remembered correctly, it was named thus because it was ¡°the Lesser Torrent¡± which had somehow been worn down to just ¡°the Lessing¡± over the years. Though how anyone could know that, he had no idea. Maybe there were old texts?


    Greg would know. Lane would probably have opinions about his musing about the origin of words. Nathan would make a joke on his expense. Andrew would have something to snack on.


    Sun, how he missed them.


    But he couldn''t focus on that.


    Despite being the lesser of the two rivers, it was certainly the one more torrential, so fast flowing, even the Rot was having difficulties taking it over. It was quite deep, too, making it hard to cross. If he absolutely had to, David could see himself making the other bank with the werewolves, but he seriously doubted that the Valoise would get their cannons and carts across. Not without a bridge.


    He turned in the saddle to address one of the veterans. ¡°Ever blown up a bridge, Robert?¡±


    The giant wolf nodded. He wasn¡¯t very good at communicating in this body yet.


    ¡°Think you could blow up one across the Lessing?¡±


    Robert rotated his head on his neck.


    ¡°Not sure? Cause the bridges here are difficult to blow up? Or because we don¡¯t have the right stuff?¡±


    The latter got a nod.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll try to get you the stuff,¡± David said. ¡°Might have to slow down the pisscoats a bit.¡±


    That got a tail wag.


    David glanced to his other side. They followed the river, on a narrow footpath right at the water¡¯s edge. Alvin¡¯s shade jogged along on the waves as if they were solid grounds, no matter how wild the rapids got.


    He wasn¡¯t real. Except that he had fought the Rot to defend David. Maybe he was only ¡°real¡± to other magical things?


    Maybe he could ask Pierre about it some day. Would Morgulon be able to talk to the ghost?


    It was weird, riding back into civilization. David hadn¡¯t taken a real bath for the better part of a month. Jumping into a river to put on the same clothes he had worn for weeks afterwards wasn¡¯t the same thing at all. He felt all the more dirty as they left the range of what the werewolves had ravaged behind, riding between pristine pastures and fields. There even was  livestock out to graze, despite the army being no three days away. Two, if the pisscoats hurried up a little.


    David shuddered in the warmth. He supposed the animals still needed to eat, enemy soldiers or not.


    One field they came by was in the process of being reaped. Men and women with knives and hooks made the most of the two days of stable weather they¡¯d had, nearly disappearing behind the wheat. When they saw the werewolves passing by, they started yelling at each other. They didn¡¯t stop what they were doing, but David thought the work took on a new urgency.


    Did they hope to get the harvest in before the Valoise got here? Even if they could, what were they going to do with it? Flailing it would take even more time. Or did they plan to take the whole sheaves with them?


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    That might work, actually. Not that he was a farmer. But if they got the field cleared today, loaded it all up¡­


    Maybe they¡¯d have some food. Or something to sell.


    If they were quick enough.


    Eventually, a city appeared on the horizon, on the other side of the river. It was quite a large place, David thought. He could see the smoke of industry rising above. So this had to be either Highham or Erkford, right? There weren¡¯t that many big cities along the Lessing, and he was quite certain they had not travelled far enough to reach Northeim.


    As most cities, this one had outgrown its walls. As far as David could see, there didn''t seem to be any attempt of reigning in the sprawling outer districts. Given that the Lessing was nearly Rot free, this probably wasn''t the security issue it would have been almost everywhere else. The main part of the city was on the other, higher bank of the river, the old town with the walls and the garrison with its own defenses. An old, fortified bridge led across the waters, and on this side, there were factories and the kind of poor man¡¯s quarters that tended to spring up around any substantial industry.


    Erkford, Rust commented. Before David could ask how he knew that, he added: Only place with a fortified garrison around here.


    ¡°They''ll be thrilled to have us,¡° David commented.


    Despite the speed with which the werewolves travelled, word had gotten to the city first. The guards at the city''s outskirts had been reinforced by soldiers. Or maybe they usually had watch shifts a hundred people strong, but David doubted that.


    ¡°Do they carry silver?¡± David asked Rust.


    Just some trinkets.


    Not enough soldiers then, if the werewolves really wanted to force their way into the outer quarters. More than enough soldiers to kill David, though. So he waved at the werewolves to wait out of musket range and rode forwards alone, keeping both hands in the air where the guards and soldiers could see them.


    He should have brought a white flag.


    They let him ride up nearly all the way to where the countryside abruptly gave way to the pigpens at the very edge of the sprawling suburbs. The smell of pigshit hung over everything, mixing with the smoke from the factories. It reminded David of the very first letter Greg had written them from Eoforwic.


    ¡°Halt!¡± an officer yelled at him as soon as he passed the first pigpen. ¡°Get off your horse and raise your hands! No funny business! And tell those monsters not to move!¡±


    Or what?


    David rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± the lieutenant asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m David Feleke, son of Baron Feleke. You may know me as part of the Feleke Four, or Lord Relentless. I need to talk to whoever is in charge of the city and the garrison.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± the lieutenant asked, pointing at where Alvin¡¯s shade was just barely visible in the sun.


    David glanced over at the gangly youth chasing shadows.


    ¡°That¡¯s the ghost of a dead werewolf,¡± he said.


    A bunch of soldiers promptly aimed their muskets at Alvin.


    David swore. ¡°Oh for¡ªLook.¡± He reached out a hand, waved it through Alvin¡¯s spectral body. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your bullets. You can¡¯t shoot him, and he can¡¯t hurt anything but the Rot.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± the lieutenant muttered, and a couple of men made the sign against evil. But at least the guns went up again.


    ¡°I can¡¯t leave him behind,¡± David said, before anyone could demand that. ¡°He¡¯s tethered to me. Wherever I go, he goes.¡±


    And he hadn¡¯t yet figured out how to make him disappear to that other shape around his shoulders. If that was even something he could control.


    The officer of the watch considered that for a moment. ¡°What about the rest of the werewolves?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re quite real,¡± David said. Which he realised wasn¡¯t what the man wanted to know. ¡°They¡¯ll wait here for my return,¡± he added.


    Hopefully, it would ensure that he was allowed to return. He wasn¡¯t sure if these people had any idea what nine werewolves could do to their city this side of halfmoon.


    When the guards finally got out of the way, Rust commented: Don¡¯t take too long.


    David waved at him, then led his horse after the guards who formed up around him. They walked him through the outer district of what he hoped was really Erkford, all the way to the single bridge that crossed the Lessing. It was a mediaeval construction, with fortifications on either side: High towers from a time when there had been toll borders here overlooked the land in all directions. David thought he saw cannons up there.


    ¡°Is your telegraph still working?¡± he asked, when he spotted the tell-tale wires running along the river.


    The lieutenant gave him a confused look. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    David paused. ¡°Because the enemy is no three days away? It¡¯s half a day for light cavalry to the river. Can¡¯t be hard to cut the wires.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t heard any complaints,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°Keep it down about the enemy, will you? We¡¯ll have a panic on our hands.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re on their way,¡± David said. ¡°You can have it now or when the Grande Arm¨¦e marches up, but it¡¯s going to happen.¡±


    ¡°Are you mad?¡± the lieutenant hissed. ¡°What would they want with Erkford?¡±


    David shrugged. ¡°At a best guess, they want to keep up morale by letting their soldiers loot the town.¡±


    The guards on his sides looked nervously at each other.


    It was a good bridge indeed, David thought when they passed beneath the first tower. It was long and just wide enough for a couple of carts to pass, and he saw openings to shoot would-be crossers from inside the tower.


    ¡°How many more werewolves did you bring?¡± the lieutenant asked when they reached the other side.


    ¡°Just the nine outside.¡±


    ¡°But there¡¯s more?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s more, yes.¡±


    ¡°Enough to defend the city?¡±


    David raised his eyebrows. ¡°The pisscoats brought sixty thousand soldiers over. We¡¯ve whittled them down a bit, but how big is your garrison?¡±


    ¡°Two and a half thousand soldiers.¡±


    That was a good number. Usually.


    David didn¡¯t need to say anything more, and the officer didn¡¯t ask. He did send off one of his men ahead to take word to the garrison and make sure David would meet the right people there.


    There was no holding Erkford. Which didn¡¯t stop people from turning their noses up at him, the captain of the garrison and the mayor. Both of them were twice David''s age and quite round, wrapped in fine fabrics, and in the case of the mayor, a lot of jewellery. If either one of them had ever spent a night sleeping rough, it had been decades ago.


    David was wishing for Captain Reed before they had even started speaking.


    So he decided not to give them a chance. ¡°The Valoise are two quick days or marching away from here. They have changed direction, heading directly towards the Lessing. Chances are they will try to take the bridge. I need to use your telegraph to inform whoever is in charge at Deva of the development.¡±


    ¡°That can¡¯t be,¡± the mayor said. As if that would banish the bad news.


    David looked at the garrison¡¯s captain. ¡°I¡¯m only here to pass on a message,¡± he said. ¡°But there¡¯s a good chance the Valoise are coming here to loot. So if I was you, I¡¯d evacuate. At the very least, move the women north.¡±


    He paused. ¡°You¡¯re not going to have too much time to follow them, given that the Rot is on the way.¡±


    ¡°The Rot? The Rot can¡¯t take the Lessing.¡±


    David rolled his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re burning fields and villages so the pisscoats can¡¯t plunder them. And kill the livestock in the pastures. The Rot will show up sooner rather than later. Lessing or not.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t do that!¡± the mayor protested.


    ¡°And you¡¯re going to stop me?¡± David asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have you arrested!¡±


    ¡°You can try,¡± David said. ¡°In that case, my werewolves will save the Valoise the trouble and destroy your city first.¡±


    ¡°They can¡¯t do that!¡± the mayor yelled.


    David rolled his eyes and looked at the captain, curious to see what he would do. The old soldier sighed, and finally stood straight.


    ¡°Lieutenant Markis, take the Mr. Vilis somewhere where he won¡¯t be in the way. I¡¯m hereby declaring martial law in the city. Tell the guilds to ready their militias. I want them mustered at six.¡±


    David did his best to hide his surprise when the lieutenant snapped a salute, and marched out of the room.


    ¡°While they get on with that, let¡¯s contact Deva, Lord Feleke,¡± the captain went on. ¡°If you¡¯ll follow me?¡±


    ¡°You want the citizens to fight against the Valoise?¡± David asked. He didn''t try to hide his doubts about that idea, but followed after the captain.


    ¡°Hah! That would be a slaughter,¡± the captain said. ¡°But word of you and your monsters is sure to spread. While they¡¯re mustering, they aren¡¯t panicking. And they can help with evacuating.¡±


    David could only hope the man was right.


    As they crossed the courtyard of the garrison, bells started ringing in the city. Not the cheerful sound calling the believers to church, or the mournful tolling of a funeral, but the wild ringing of the alarm, rising all over the city.


    Loud enough to wake the dead, David thought.


    ¡°Your werewolves,¡± the captain asked, ¡°can they hold the bridge?¡±


    David shook his head. ¡°For a short while, maybe. If the enemy doesn¡¯t attack on full moon. I doubt it would be worth the cost, though. I don¡¯t see what we gain by sacrificing the only advantage we have currently have just to hold Erkford for an hour or two longer. Let¡¯s see what Deva says, though.¡±

 Chapter 194

    Greg hurried down the corridors of the palace towards the little office where the telegraph operators sat. The news had spread through the palace like wildfire: David was messaging them.


    Well, not them, really. When Greg got there, deVale was already there, bent over the operator¡¯s shoulder to read along as the man translated the code. One slip of paper was already lying on the table behind them.


    MAJ FELEKE REPORTING TO GEN DEVALE FROM ERKFORD


    That had been the first message, the one that had had Greg run down here in the first place. And of course deVale, who was indeed a freshly minted general. David must have guessed so. Or did he have access to the papers?


    Three more messages had arrived since, all neatly transcribed.


    55000 VALOISE MOVING ON CITY


    THREE DAYS AWAY


    HAVE 177 WEREWOLVES


    As Greg joined deVale at the table, the operator finished transcribing the next message:


    2500 AT ERKFORD GARRISON


    ¡°Heard the news, didn¡¯t you?¡± deVale asked, without looking at Greg. The telegraph was already ticking again.


    ¡°Finally,¡± he growled, when the door opened again and a young soldier arrived, carrying rolled up paper.


    Maps, Greg realised.


    ¡°Put them on the table there,¡± deVale ordered. Impatiently, he jumped in to help unfurl the papers, weigh them down, muttering to himself. ¡°Right at the Lessing, no Rot-issue, very good bridge¡­Bridge¡­¡±


    He tapped the map a few times, staring at the wall. ¡°Not something the werewolves can easily work with, is it? Moon Chart?¡± he added louder, looking at the soldier, who promptly handed over another piece of paper.


    DeVale pushed out his chin as far as he could, rubbing it.


    Lane ducked into the room. DeVale interrupted his musings to pull out a chair for her. She smiled rather tingly, but sat, straightening her skirts.


    Greg handed her the missives that had arrived so far.


    REQUESTING ORDERS was the next one that the operator read out loud. Greg expected it to be the final one, given the request, but after a few seconds, the ticking continued.


    DeVale smiled at the new bit of text. ¡°Requesting orders, what else.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think that¡¯s what he¡¯s doing?¡± Greg asked.


    DeVale shook his head, bending over the papers again. ¡°Quite the contrary, it¡¯s rather stating the obvious, isn¡¯t it? He wouldn¡¯t have addressed this to ¡°General deVale,¡± or phrased it as a report, if he weren¡¯t after some form of official decision.¡±


    He tapped the moon chart. ¡°The Valoise will arrive at Erkford just before the full moon. That¡¯s unfortunate. If there was a way to stall them¡­¡±


    Greg felt rather useless while deVale muttered to himself, pushing the moon chart aside to read some annotations on the map underneath. ¡°Really good bridge¡­ but Erkford garrison has just 55 guns, total. The Valoise will have easily three times as much firepower¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you think the Valoise are aware of the werewolves¡¯ weakness on full moon?¡± Lane asked.


    ¡°They made no attempt to exploit it during the last one,¡± deVale said. ¡°But it¡¯s quite possible they were just too busy getting everything unloaded. In any case, they may have figured it out since then.¡±


    Lane nodded slowly.


    HOW IS MOTHER?


    That was apparently David¡¯s final message for now. The telegraph stopped ticking. The operator leaned back with a sigh, closing his code book.


    George Louis walked in just in time for the man to put down his pencil.


    ¡°Is it true,¡± he asked before anyone could greet him. ¡°Is it David?¡±


    Lane offered him her seat, and passed him the messages they had gotten. It put a smile onto the duke¡¯s face, which quickly disappeared while he read the final one. Probably because David hadn¡¯t asked about him.


    Greg could only guess that David had already seen the news that the duke had survived. Or Erkford might have told him.


    ¡°He can¡¯t take that fight, can he?¡± Stuard asked after a moment, putting down the slip asking after Imani. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have the troops¡­¡±


    ¡°He might be able to stall,¡± deVale said. ¡°Hurt them and lower their numbers. We won¡¯t get a more favourable fight than this until the enemy arrives at the walls of Deva. But no. I don¡¯t think even Lord Relentless can hold Erkford if the Valoise really want to take it. I do wonder how good his intelligence on this is.¡±


    ¡°Assuming it is good,¡± George Louis pressed, ¡°what orders will you give?¡±


    ¡°Tell him to expect an answer after lunch,¡± deVale said, turning to the operator. ¡°I need to think about this. Talk it over with General Vermount.¡±


    ¡°You cannot seriously suggest¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your Highness, you did leave command of the army to me,¡± deVale interrupted him. ¡°That includes tactical decisions like this one. And I believe we owe Lord Felke a well thought-through answer. This may well be our one chance to deal a major blow to the enemy. And even if we do not take this fight, evacuating a city like Erkford will require careful planning. We may still need the werewolves to act as a rear guard.¡±


    ¡°And on full moon, no less,¡± Lane added. She sighed. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯ll have to warn Commander Bacrot that we¡¯ll have another influx of refugees.¡±


    Greg watched her go. He didn¡¯t envy her the task of finding places for all these people to go. How many citizens did Erkford have?


    ¡°Who is commanding on the Valoisian side?¡± George Louis asked as the door closed behind her. He frowned, and added: ¡°I feel like I have asked this before.¡±


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Greg was fairly certain that the duke would have been briefed on this, too. Quite possibly by Lane herself.


    ¡°Marshalls Allard and Soto appear to each command a corps d¡¯arm¨¦e,¡± deVale replied promptly. ¡°It¡¯s unclear how much influence the Levant has.¡±


    The duke shuddered. ¡°I remember Allard from when he was a general. Vicious bastard, but careful. What do we know about this Soto?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a cavalry officer,¡± deVale said. ¡°Said to be both bold and brilliant in that role, though prone to excesses, both in the risks he takes on the field and his lifestyle.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like he¡¯ll and Allard will get on like a house on fire, then,¡± the duke commented. ¡°Probably not something we can exploit, though.¡±


    He sighed, and with a soft groan, pushed out of his seat. ¡°I will leave you to it,¡± he said. ¡°I trust you¡¯ll keep me informed, general.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± deVale confirmed.


    That left Greg alone with the count. He might as well use the time while he was here. ¡°May I answer David¡¯s final question while you deliberate?¡±


    He didn¡¯t really have an excuse to hang around after telling David that Imani was on the mend. General Vermount frowned at him, when he finally showed up.


    ¡°One of the werewolves,¡± deVale said, before the older general could ask. ¡°In case we need his special insight.¡±


    Vermount shuddered and glared at him, until Greg went to stand at deVale¡¯s side. The count pretended he hadn¡¯t noticed, going over the information they had at hand. The older general interrupted him, though: ¡°You¡¯ve seen these¡ªcreatures¡ªin action. What do you think, can they do any significant damage to the enemy? Without risking themselves too much?¡±


    ¡°It may be our best chance¡ª¡± deVale started, then shook his head. ¡°They¡¯re good soldiers.¡±


    ¡°One hundred and seventy seven of them.¡±


    ¡°If it was open ground¡­¡± deVale went on. ¡°Lord Relentless reckons each one of them is worth ten cavalry men. But on a narrow bridge¡­¡±


    Vermount nodded. ¡°I think you have your answers, General deVale.¡±


    Greg pressed his lips together, to stop a sigh of relief when deVale nodded again.


    ¡°So we evacuate,¡± he said.


    ***


    David was humming tunelessly to himself as he rejoined the werewolves waiting for him outside Erkford. He was in a good mood. He liked the orders deVale had given¡ªsaving him from having to give them himself¡ªbut mostly he was glad to have gotten confirmation that Imani was alive and on the mend.


    And George Louis, too, though he had already known about that.


    Rust was strangely quiet as David joined the group. He had expected at least some complaint about how long it had taken to sort out everything with the city garrison, and how the werewolves hadn¡¯t gotten to enter the town for even an hour. But not a word. Noone was speaking at all when he told them to get going, back to where the rest of the army was waiting.


    Not even a word of relief that they wouldn¡¯t be risking their lives for a city that hadn¡¯t allowed them to enter.


    Maybe it was the summer heat, that laden pressure in the air that warned of the next thunderstorm.


    But when they reached the small forest where everyone else was hidden, the camp was just as quiet. All the werewolves were focused on the same place, staring as if hypnotised at a stranger standing in their middle. Even Ragna, in her giant wolf form, was looking at the man like an attentive student did when the teacher was talking.


    The stranger wore simple clothes¡ªsturdy overalls and a grubby shirt underneath¡ªand no shoes. He appeared about as old as Rust, with a mane of even brighter red hair and beard than Rust¡¯s russet colour, both streaked with grey. His eyes were dark brown and piercing. Human eyes, with the white showing all around. Showing his nerves.


    It couldn¡¯t be who David thought it was, could it?


    The stranger watched his every move, twitching nervously.


    Right until Alvin¡¯s shade shot past David, throwing himself at the stranger like an over-eager puppy welcoming its owner.


    To David¡¯s biggest surprise, they collided. In fact, the stranger rocked back, having to take a step to keep his balance, when Alvin smashed into him. Just like when the ghost had fought the Rot.


    It seemed to shock the stranger, too. He grabbed the apparition by what had once been the scruffy fur around his neck, pulling his face up to his own, then scratching him underneath the ears. As if the shade were solid. He stared at the ghost¡¯s face with rapt attention, and David wondered¡ªwere they communicating?


    He halted his horse, standing in the saddle. Were the stranger¡¯s lips moving? Was there a flicker of magic?


    The stranger switched to scratching between the ears, and it was only when he flicked his other arm to let the long sleeves slide back, that David realised he was missing a hand. A front paw, in his other shape.


    Slowly, he let himself slide out of the saddle, keeping his hands where the stranger could see them as he closed the distance.


    ¡°The Red, I presume,¡± he said.


    The man¡ªwerewolf¡ªfroze, slowly turning to face him, teeth bared.


    ¡°The Relentless,¡± the stranger said. ¡°Red. Yes. That¡¯s what they call me.¡±


    ¡°Is there another name you would prefer?¡± David asked.


    The Red wrinkled his nose, then shook his head. ¡°Brought you a gift,¡± he said, and turned to look over his shoulder.


    David felt magic flare. Nothing else happened, though.


    The Red wouldn¡¯t try to jump-scare him, would he?


    He had barely thought that when a rustle went through the underbrush, and a werewolf stepped into the open. And then a second one, and a third¡ªand then they appeared all around, alone and in groups¡ªsometimes a dozen strong. And David felt it: these weren''t newly bitten people. At least not all of them.


    Where did they all come from? There were so many of them! How had he not seen them earlier?


    ¡°Cleared the Central Ranges,¡± the Red said, as if he had read the first thought in his mind. ¡°Plains, too. All here to fight.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± David said. ¡°Will you help, too?¡±


    ¡°Just did, didn¡¯t I?¡± the Red growled.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± David repeated. ¡°I meant, will you fight, though?¡±


    The elder shook his head. He raised the arm with the missing hand. ¡°The Rot, sure. Can fight that. Won¡¯t go to battle against guns.¡±


    ¡°Would you help keep the Rot from crossing the White Torrent, then?¡± David asked. ¡°Or possibly clean the Savre?¡±


    If they could create safe lands for people to flee to, that had to be worth something, right?


    The Red shrugged. ¡°Want to see my nieces and nephews, anyway.¡± He looked around at the troops he had brought and the werewolves already gathered, one hand still idly scritching Alvin¡¯s ghost under the chin. ¡°Your enemy. Going to split up after Erkford.¡±


    ¡°Split up,¡± David repeated. ¡°Why?¡±


    The Red shrugged again. ¡°Cavalry to the west. Rest of the army to the east. I think.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡± David asked.


    ¡°The wind told me.¡±


    ¡°And do you trust the wind?¡±


    ¡°The wind knows every breath you take.¡±


    That didn¡¯t quite answer the question. Though David thought at least now he knew where Morgulon got it from.


    ¡°Don¡¯t die before the war is over, Lord Relentless,¡± the Red said, raising the stump of his hand. Before David could figure out an answer, the Red bowed¡ªmockingly, David thought¡ªturning invisible as he did.


    As soon as the elder disappeared from sight, the magic he had put on all the other werewolves broke. Some of them yelped, others transformed in a cloud of tearing fabric and ripping leather. One group broke into a chorus of howls, which didn¡¯t end until Ragna barked sharply.


    Silence fell then, and all the newcomers turned towards David, clearly expecting him to do something.


    Great.


    He was quite tempted to just dump the problem on Rust and Ragna. They had to have known this was coming, right? Or was the Red powerful enough to hide all these werewolves not just from sight, but from other werewolves¡¯ magical perception, too?


    On the other hand, Morgulon had been strong enough to save dozens of people from death cap poison. And the Red had to be close to twice her age.


    Perhaps he could fly, like the rumour said about Morgulon. Everything seemed possible at this point.


    And he still had to do a bloody speech, didn¡¯t he?


    ¡°Welcome, everyone,¡± he called out into the silence. ¡°I am Major David Feleke. You may know me as part of the Feleke Four, or the Relentless.¡±


    If they didn¡¯t know already, better to get that out of the way right away. He looked from one new face to the next, trying to gauge their reaction.


    Nobody ran, which was probably all he could ask for.


    ¡°Welcome to the Loegrian army,¡± he went on. ¡°I¡¯m in charge here. My two captains are Ragna and Rust. I¡¯ll expect you to do as they say even if you happen to be older than them.¡±


    There was no protest. He wondered if any of the newcomers were older than his captains.


    Would it be worth the trouble such an elder might cause? He couldn¡¯t quite banish the idea of sending one of them invisible into a Valoisian camp, to bite as many of the pisscoats as possible.


    But this wasn¡¯t the moment to dream.


    ¡°The Valoise are marching on Erkford. Which we will not try to defend. Our job will be to protect the evacuation of the city instead.¡±


    This, finally, got a cheer from his veterans.


    ¡°We will march towards Erkford first thing tomorrow morning, so I advise you all to get some rest.¡±


    Should he ride ahead, inform deVale of the change in situation?


    But no. First he needed to get to kno


    w his new soldiers. Find out if they had any useful magical tricks, or experience as soldiers.


    But first: dinner.

 Chapter 195

    Marshall Allard was wholly unsurprised when their outriders returned with the report that Erkford was evacuating. Men, and women, children, and the infirm fled north along both sides of the river. A handful of werewolves appeared to guard them on their way north¡ªAllard couldn¡¯t help but wonder how that would go with the upcoming full moon.


    The Relentless had to have a plan for that, right?


    Marshall Soto grumbled for a bit that he wouldn¡¯t get to nail them down in battle, but he got over himself quickly. He got his crossing over the Lessing after all. And he had a fairly smart idea to raise morale, too.


    ¡°How about we stay in the city over full moon,¡± he suggested. ¡°Make use of the walls.¡±


    ¡°And loot the place?¡± Allard asked.


    ¡°Well, yes, that too,¡± Soto said, as if that was totally an afterthought. ¡°But I was thinking we need to have some safeguards in place in case we missed one of the bitten ones. I believe we could use the city¡¯s buildings to separate the men into groups. Limit the damage a wolf can do. If one appears.¡±


    That¡ªwas admittedly a damn good idea, Allard had to concede.


    ¡°That¡¯ll slow us down,¡± the prince protested.


    Soto looked at Allard; when their eyes met, for once, they were in total agreement.


    ¡°Your Highness, we would have to shelter over full moon in any case,¡± Allard said. ¡°We have made allowances for that in all our plans. This is merely going to improve our rates of attrition.¡±


    ¡°And we might sleep in real beds for once,¡± Soto added.


    His Highness glared at them, but dropped the argument. ¡°As long as it doesn¡¯t slow us down,¡± he said. ¡°I want to be in Deva by the equinox.¡±


    That had seemed like a lot of time when they had boarded the ships. The whole campaign had seemed so easy: poison the dukes, wait for resistance to fall apart, take Port Neaf. March across the Heartlands to Deva, kill whoever resisted, and install the Levant as new viceroy.


    They hadn¡¯t counted on a thousand werewolves assailing Port Neaf, nearly taking it, or Stuard¡¯s survival. Let alone on the crazy Feleke and his merry band of monsters.


    They could still do it, of course. This campaign was far from doomed. Just more difficult, and costly. And possibly longer than planned.


    Allard had a headache, despite the silver in his helmet. When he looked around, he spotted the half-eaten, deformed corpse of a sheep that was moving in the distance. The pasture it was in was a vibrant green, like only the best farmland in Valoise ever got. In Loegrion, it was just another bit of grassland.


    The field on the other side of the street had been burned, and there were wolves moving there¡ªway out of range of any guns. Daring them to send the cavalry out. Allard glanced at Soto, and was relieved to see the other Marshall wasn¡¯t falling for the bait.


    The monsters would attack as soon as they spotted an opening. Sometimes even without a real opening, trusting in the terror they caused. Sometimes they created an opening, dropping trees onto the road.


    Were they reinforcing with the deserters from the Grande Arm¨¦e? Or was the Feleke letting all those newly created werewolves running wild around the Heartlands? How long did it even take them to become full monsters?


    The Levant was looking at the wolves, too, but clearly, his thoughts went into a different direction. ¡°How do they not know how futile their efforts are?¡±


    ¡°Your Highness?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re trying to understand these monsters. What do they think they are accomplishing here?¡± the Levant asked. ¡°Do they truly think if they beat us in battle, we will turn tail and return to the mainland?¡±


    ¡°Can a human ever truly know what goes on in the mind of a monster?¡± Soto replied.


    Which was surprisingly philosophical for him.


    ¡°But if you had to take a guess?¡± the Levant insisted.


    Soto pursed his lips. ¡°I¡¯m not sure they thought it through at all,¡± he said. ¡°I would guess it¡¯s quite possible they fight us simply because we¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°What say you, Marshall Allard?¡±


    Allard glared at the wolves in the distance. He thought of the other name of the blasted Feleke. Did he give an honest answer?


    Finally he said: ¡°I would reckon they hope that if they kill all of us, His Majesty will eschew the cost of sending another army.¡±


    The prince blinked. ¡°How would they possibly do that?¡±


    Allard felt the pressure on his head mount. ¡°It depends on how many bitten ones we overlooked, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ***


    Allard arrived with the vanguard at Erkford a day later. The city was deserted, like their outriders had reported.


    What Allard hadn¡¯t expected was that it was completely deserted. Not even looters had stayed behind. Just a few stray dogs were still moving between the walls.


    That couldn¡¯t be a good sign, could it?


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    How had the Feleke managed to get everyone to move out? There was always someone too stubborn or stupid to get out.


    Was this a trap? Did he want them here?


    Allard shook himself. He was starting to jump at shadows, wasn¡¯t he? The Feleke had absolutely no reason to want them in the city. Especially not on full moon, when the monsters were most dangerous.


    They were most dangerous on full moon night, right? Or was there some kind of weakness he didn¡¯t know about? Hadn¡¯t he heard that werewolf hunters went after them especially on the full moon? There had to be a reason for that.


    If there was, the deserted city would make a little more sense. Dangle the safety and the wealth of Erkford in front of them, so they wouldn¡¯t try to hunt the wolves down.


    Allard sighed. They should have had the Inquisition question the Feleke when they had the chance.


    They shouldn¡¯t have trusted a rat like Picot.


    He watched for a while as his officers assigned quarters to the soldiers¡ªall within the city walls, in case the werewolves staged an attack unexpectedly. All in buildings with more than one floor. At moonrise, they would retreat upstairs¡ªhopefully leaving any bitten comrades behind.


    He hoped Soto¡¯s plan would work. Allard himself took residence in the garrison, where the prince and Soto would join him as soon as the rest of the army got here.


    Where they would hopefully be safe from any werewolves, whether they came from their own lines or the enemy.


    And there were baths. Proper baths. And water closets. Not something one would find in a minor Valoisian garrison, but the Loggies had a strange obsession with sewers. Well, not really strange, given how the Rot grew if given the muck to fester in.


    And thus, the campaign took a short, well earned break. Allard had the rum rations doubled, and gave everyone not on watch time to loot the city. It was a nice change of pace. He didn¡¯t even have to worry about soldiers running off¡ªany man who hadn¡¯t been bitten by the monsters feared what he might become if he deserted.


    Those few individuals who did try to run, well, they were probably better off without them anyway.


    There was still a voice in the back of his head that kept telling him that this provincial, safe city was a trap. That they were giving the werewolves, and that mad Feleke, exactly what they had hoped for. Exactly what they wanted.


    He could hear them all night, howling in the distance. Only once, he heard a wolf closer by, too, followed by gunfire.


    The next morning, the sun revealed that Allard¡¯s instincts had been right: Two dead werewolves. Killed with regular old lead bullets. Not even great hits. At least one of them must have bled out.


    ¡°They don¡¯t heal on full moon,¡± Allard noted. ¡°At least not during full moon night.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean we hunt them down tonight?¡± the prince asked.


    Soto grimaced. ¡°We don¡¯t know where they are, your Highness. Some of them have crossed the Lessing with us, sure, but how many? Our scouts reported a larger number of them followed the track of fleeing citizens. They¡¯ll be beyond our reach by now. However, if they¡¯re still an issue next full moon, we¡¯ll ride them down then, Your Highness,¡± Soto promised.


    ¡°You concur, Marshall Allard?¡± the prince asked.


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Allard said. ¡°We will place additional sharpshooters on the walls tonight. If they come to us, we¡¯ll be ready. But I fully agree that there¡¯s no point in running after them now.¡±


    He stood on the walls himself that evening, watching the moon rise. Thanks to the long summer days, the sun hadn¡¯t even fully set yet in the west. Allard was looking to the east, looking out over the river. There was just a thin stripe of scrubs and hard grass between the wall and the water, yet it was here where the wolves had died last night, rather than in one of the built-up outer districts.


    Without even looking in that direction, Allard knew exactly when the sun set behind him. A whole chorus rose, wolves howling all around. Guns barked, and his personal guard closed ranks around him.


    ¡°How is there another one?¡± one of his lieutenants hissed.


    The monster limped out between two buildings, still wearing parts of the uniform of the man it had used to be.


    It died in a hail of bullets from above.


    That was the only werewolf this side of the river Allard spotted.


    Oh, he could see them, moving about on the other side, darting in and out of the shadows the full moon cast. One stayed on the other shore for nearly half an hour. Staring back at them, Allard thought. His soldiers tried, but half a mile was too great a distance, even for their excellent rifles.


    Did the werewolf know that? They clearly weren¡¯t as mindless as Allard had thought.


    He wished for more light. Then at least he could have studied the monster properly. Maybe memorise the markings.


    On the third night of the full moon, the whole pack was there, on the other side of the river, staring up to the gallery. The whole army. There had to be as many as a hundred of them, maybe more. It was hard to tell with only the moonlight.


    He hadn¡¯t expected there still to be so many of them. Did that mean the ones who had gone with the refugees were back? Or was their intelligence wrong? Were there multiple groups?


    Possibly the werewolves had split their forces, too?


    Not knowing made him feel a sense of dread as he watched Marshal Soto salute the prince. His aide held a beautiful white destrier for him. The rest of their cavalry, their lightest infantry, and a token train of supply carts was lined up north of Erkford. Everyone else¡ªthe bulk of their infantry, their whole artillery, and most of the supplies¡ªwere in the process of crossing the bridge over the Lessing back towards the eastern shore.


    Guarded by most of their chasseurs.


    Allard answered the salute, then waited for the Levant to get into the saddle. He was the last one over the bridge. Which meant he had a front row seat when the explosion went off.


    He couldn¡¯t have said why he looked back again, but he turned his head just in time to see a stark naked man jump into the river from somewhere under the bridge. The stranger had barely gone under when the flash followed, then the thunder. The blastwave nearly knocked his horse over, and Allard right out of the saddle.


    Coughing and cursing, he managed to push himself just high enough that he could see over the curb of the road. He half expected bullets to wizz over his head, but no, there was no attack¡ªjust a deep rumble from the bridge and the splash of bricks falling into the waters beneath.


    On the other side, right across from Allard, stood the damn Feleke. Watching as the whole bridge seemed to buck¡ªa wave went through it as the stones groaned¡ªthen the splashing grew louder as the central pillar holding up the arcs crumbled, dragging everything above down with it, ripping a hole into the road that quickly grew wider.


    Separating the army.


    The Feleke had the nerve to wave at Allard, silver shade shimmering gently in the sunlight. Then he turned around, walking away.


    Allard kept his head down until he was out of sight, then carefully rose. Just as an aide tried to pull him fully to his feet, the werewolves took up their chorus again.


    Somewhere out of sight, but close.


    Allard stared at the destroyed bridge a few seconds longer. It was well done: too far to repair with wooden beams. Then he shook himself.


    ¡°We¡¯re moving,¡± he ordered. ¡°Stick to the plan.¡±


    His staff hurried to pass on that order. A furrier had collected and checked over his horse, so Allard climbed back into the saddle.


    He tried to keep his expression composed as he closed up to the Levant, while thanking Mithras in his head that the prince hadn''t gone with Soto.


    That would have been hard to explain to Rambouilllet, if he had lost the boy!

 Chapter 196

    Marshall Soto rode at the head of his personal guard, whistling softly to himself. There was nothing around but acres and acres of open fields: some kind of beets that left no place for a werewolf or even human to hide. Well, and the five hundred riders following right behind him.


    Still, he could have sworn there was something breathing right next to him, moving along between him and General Gavin.


    Just his mind playing tricks. There was nothing there, he could see that.


    He couldn¡¯t stop thinking of the mad Feleke and his strange ghost, though. Could that turn invisible? But it had never strayed from the cage.


    What would his men think if he reached out a little? Just to be sure? Perhaps if he pretended to stretch in the saddle? He didn¡¯t want his men to think he was jumping at shadows.


    So he faked a big yawn and stretched¡ªwaving his arms much more than he usually would, raking his fingers through the air. There was nothing there. Which made sense. He couldn¡¯t see anything, after all.


    ¡°Should we take a break, Sir?¡± Gavin asked promptly.


    ¡°Just enjoying the fresh air,¡± Soto claimed. ¡°Can¡¯t you smell the glory and victory waiting for us?¡±


    Gavin sniffed, gaze trailing over the open countryside.


    ¡°Think we left them behind, Sir?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Not too far behind, I would hope,¡± Soto said. ¡°I want that black bastard¡¯s head to hang above my fireplace.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d have to fight the Archbishop for it,¡± Gavin pointed out.


    That got a round of laughter. Morale was quite good, now that they were finally moving at a decent pace. The last village they had arrived at had barely even burned yet, and they¡¯d been able to put out the fire enough to loot some supplies. Soto had taken this group away from the main body straight towards the west, and he hoped that they would soon reach a village that hadn¡¯t been cleared out by the werewolves at all.


    And then they¡¯d finally have some fun.


    Soto smiled grimly to himself. He was tired of feeling like a rat in a barrel, waiting for the terrier to get him. His men no doubt felt the same. It was time to show the Loggies that the werewolves had nothing on the Grande Arm¨¦e. And to release some pent up frustration.


    His wife at home would understand. So would Lord Mithras, as long as he paid his indulgence to the church.


    Loegrian was said to have a lot of blondes, right? A feisty blonde farmer¡¯s daughter, that would be the right thing just about now. He was curious to see how much resistance the Loggies put up once all their children had Valoisian fathers.


    Soto chuckled to himself when he thought of Allard, stuck with the Levant and the rest of the army. Maybe he¡¯d save a girl for him. The old man really needed to lighten up a bit. Loegrion was wearing him down faster than the desert ever had.


    And there they were. Smoke appeared in the distance, but it wasn¡¯t the big plume of black ash of a burning village. Just the thin lines of chimneys streaking into the blue summer sky. A minute later, they crested the hill, and a nice little Loegrian village appeared in front of them: Maybe a dozen farmsteads of half-timbered houses, built around a little pond. A mill sat a little further down the creek that fed the pond, all of it overlooked by the small church.


    ¡°Well then. Let¡¯s introduce ourselves,¡± Soto said.


    His stallion snorted when he drove him onwards, into a comfortable jog. Not the full gallop of a charge¡ªthere still wasn¡¯t a werewolf in sight and he wanted the Loggies to have time to get properly scared.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± he called over the wind, ¡°it¡¯s time to get a proper leg over this rotten land. Take whatever you want, we¡¯ll burn the rest when we leave.¡±


    His men cheered softly at his words. They went down the hill like a wave of flesh and steel, Soto¡¯s guards moving their horses half a length ahead of him, alert but relaxed. Laughing and jeering as they rode into village, trampling some of the farmers who didn¡¯t get out of the way quickly enough. In front of the church, Soto stopped his horse, watching as his soldiers broke into the houses and chased the farmers like chickens around the village.


    ¡°Find me a girl,¡± he told the closest of his men. ¡°A nice clean blonde.¡±


    Soto looked after the young soldier rushing off to do his bidding. Allard wouldn¡¯t have approved. But he was far away, watching after the Levant. The right job for an old man like Allard.


    An old man approached him, throwing herself onto the ground in front of his horse¡ªsobbing in Valoisian so thick it was barely understandable. The sobbing didn¡¯t help. Not that Soto needed to understand him to know the old man was begging him to spare the village. What else would he say in a moment like this?


    It didn¡¯t take his soldiers long to return with a girl¡ªtwo girls, in fact. Sisters, Soto assumed. He jumped down to the ground to take a closer look at them: Both blonde, both freckled, both with the pale eyes and skin of the native Loegrians. Straight noses, too. They whimpered as he forced them to open their mouths so he could check their teeth. He chose the younger one.


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    ¡°You can have the other one,¡± he told the soldiers who had brought them. ¡°Now. Let¡¯s see if they¡¯re virgins still.¡±


    A sudden gust of air blew into Soto¡¯s face when his men enthusiastically complied. A woman came running¡ªprobably the girls¡¯ mother¡ªbut was restrained by the soldiers. One of them ripped the girdle off the older wrench¡ª


    The girl struggled and the soldier stumbled backwards. Another one went flying as if a horse had kicked him. Red blood welled up, like a grotesque fountain¡ªwhere had the soldier¡¯s hand gone?


    Soto stumbled backwards, towards his snorting stallion. He could have sworn he heard a wolf snarl, but there was still nothing there!


    No wait¡ªthere was blood dripping to the ground, like red rain out of thin air. Soto pulled out his side arm, aimed at the dripping, fired¡ªthere was a satisfying wine, and the monster in their midst became visible. It shrunk into its human shape: an old woman, with pearly white hair, entirely naked. It bared its teeth at him, a full set of teeth. In fact, the bullet Soto had just fired fell out of her lined, but unmarred cheek.


    While Soto still stared, it contorted in the most grotesque way, fur spreading all over its body. Then the giant wolf was back.


    As suddenly as it had appeared, the creature became invisible again. Soto tried to put the horse between himself and where he had seen the monster last. The villagers screamed, and so did some of the soldiers. Another man was thrown backwards, jugular ripped out.


    And in the distance, more werewolves howled.


    Soto swung himself into the saddle, looking around for his lieutenant. Someone who could give the signal. They needed to get out of here, and quickly. There¡ªa young man came galloping towards him, trumpet already in hand.


    ¡°Sound the retreat!¡± Soto yelled.


    A horse died next, a fine cavalry horse. Not Soto¡¯s though, nor the lieutenants. Did the monster understand what the fanfare meant? That it would get the riders out of the village faster than anything else?


    How many werewolves were there really? There had to be a limit to the magic, right? Everything had a limit. How long could the bitch stay invisible, and how many shots to the face could it heal?


    They¡¯d find out. As soon as they had regrouped.


    Soto gathered his men on the hill they had just come down, which afforded them a great view of the area. Before they had even stopped, a half-dozen werewolves swung around them, all of them heading towards the village. A second group followed a moment later.


    ¡°They¡¯re not going to make a stand here, are they?¡± Gavin asked, lowering his spyglass. ¡°What could they possibly want with the place?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t particularly defensible, either, Soto noticed. And yet, there was a third group heading this direction, barely visible on the horizon, even through the spyglass. It couldn¡¯t be, could it? He wasn¡¯t truly going to get the battle he had longed to over this tiny, insignificant village? That damn Feleke couldn¡¯t be that foolish, right?


    But the giant wolves kept coming. He either needed to retreat or risk facing unfavourable odds himself.


    Or call in the rest of the army. Which might just be a huge waste of time.


    Sometimes you had to take that risk. ¡°General Gavin, take twenty men and gather the rest of the troops. If the monsters want to fight over that village, I¡¯m going to oblige them.¡±


    ***


    Her name was Lea. She had been a werewolf for twenty-nine years, which made her the second oldest of the wolves the Red had gathered. Only Fox was older, and he wasn¡¯t entirely sure just how old he was.


    David had made her shadow Marshall Soto because of the few werewolves who could become invisible, she could do it the longest, and could even fight without becoming visible. Which was apparently hard to do. It had sounded like a perfect role for her when he gave the order.


    What he hadn¡¯t considered was that Lea and the other werewolves wouldn¡¯t have returned with the Red if they hated humans. They were no warriors. No hunters. No killers.


    He should have expected that she wasn¡¯t going to stand by idly as children died and women were abused.


    He should have seen that coming. Everything else that followed was just logical¡ªof course Fox would come to aid an old friend, and of course the two elders meeting in the assend of nowhere would drag in any younger werewolves nearby. Which in turn made Rust and Ragna check out what was going on, and at that point, the rest of the army coalesced into the small village because he had given that order, to check in on the elders if they gathered.


    By the time David arrived at the small village, the werewolves had taken over the place, while the pisscoats were gathering on the surrounding hills. As far as David could tell, they had left paths for the werewolves to get into the village on purpose. Right by the main road was Marshall Soto with his entourage of about five hundred. A couple of thousand riders flanked him on hills to both sides.


    At least the villagers were in the process of evacuating. It was a scene David had seen more times than he cared to remember by now: oxen and horses hastily put to the carts, which were filled with supplies and what few valuables the people possessed, everything just thrown in as quickly as possible.


    A boy stopped to stare at him, a cat pressed to his chest. The kid didn¡¯t even seem to notice how the claws were raking over his arms. When the boy realised David had noticed him, he bent over the cat as if he expected it to be ripped out his arms and hurried away.


    Word of the slaughtered animals had apparently spread, even if it hadn¡¯t moved these farmers to evacuate earlier. In all fairness, David wouldn¡¯t have bothered coming here if the Valoise hadn¡¯t prompted Lea to reveal herself. The place was a little out of the way.


    Another group of them, Boris commented.


    David turned to look, and indeed, there was another troop joining up with Soto¡¯s position. Another regiment, David reckoned¡ªsome four to five hundred riders.


    The pisscoats outnumbered the werewolves ten to one already. And they had the high ground.


    He had said, once, that each wolf was worth ten men on horseback. He was loathe to test the theory here. But on the other hand, he had all his werewolves here, while the Valoise could only bring a third of theirs to bear. And he had the marshall right there.


    If they could kill him¡­


    ¡°Rust and Ragna are around, right?¡± David asked. ¡°Take me to them.¡±


    Boris wagged his tail once, and set off towards the small church. Rust and Ragna were watching the other side of the village, where a smaller group of pisscoats was forming up.


    They¡¯re going to encircle us, Rust said.


    ¡°I think we shouldn¡¯t let them,¡± David said. ¡°How many of us are still out there?¡±


    About forty, Ragna said. Nobody we¡¯d miss dearly in a fight.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get ready then,¡± David said. ¡°I want to break through the middle before the Valoise bring the rest of their troops here.¡±

 Chapter 197

    You want to break through the middle. Rust¡¯s voice was like a growl in his head.


    ¡°Yes. Kill that marshall.¡±


    That¡¯s mad, Ragna commented. Not that she sounded like that was a bad thing. Rust was looking over his shoulder, towards where the main forces of the Valoise were gathered thoughtfully.


    ¡°Lea smuggles out Rust and Fox. They do their magic thing, we attack with the main force at the same time,¡± David said.


    Ragna bared all her teeth at him. I like it.


    Rust nodded slowly. Let¡¯s find Lea, he said. Before more of them arrive.


    Ragna took the lead, trotting off towards where Fox and Lea were accepting food from two human girls. Lea and Fox were less enthusiastic, but accepted David¡¯s orders.


    It all happened very quickly then. The convicts who had run formed the first line¡ªfor deserting the rest of them, they would fight first, this time. Behind them came the veterans and the rest of the convicts, and the tested elders. And finally, forming the final rank, the ones the Red had brought.


    Not a single one of them was younger than five years old.


    You know we¡¯re not going to run on you, right?, Ennis said. He was one of the triplets, as David thought of them¡ªthree hunters bitten on the same night, by the same wolf, twenty-five years ago. Brandon and Lucian were the other two.


    David tried to smile back reassuringly. He did trust them to fight. At the very least, he trusted them to run with the rest of the army, and once they got close enough, would it even matter if they ran?


    What he didn¡¯t really know was what powers they might be hiding. Morgulon was the best example that just because he had asked them nicely didn¡¯t mean they had told him exactly what they were capable of. If they saw their fellow werewolves fighting for their lives, maybe some of the elders would be more willing to use the full extent of their powers?


    He wasn¡¯t eager to explain any of that, though, and there was no time anyway: Ragna was signalling him that Fox and Rust were in position.


    So he took his own place in the first rank. Breathing hard before the fight had even started. No longer wondering if the werewolves would do as he said. That made it so much worse.


    He glanced at Ragna, wondering if he would see her again, once the dust settled. Nodded towards her. Her eyes glowed blue, and he could only pray that the magic would be enough. Enough to keep her alive. Her and the rest of them.


    But if he thought about how many of them he would never see again after today, he would never give the order. So he pushed it all away. The fear. The friendship. The guilt.


    Not people. Soldiers. Werewolves.


    ¡°Get ready!¡± he yelled. The Valoise certainly were, up on their hills. There had been no way to hide the wolves gathering at the village edge, so they were lined up, just like the werewolves. Ready to come at them, with the advantage of the high-ground.


    David wondered if he should say something. Make a speech, or at least give them some kind of encouragement. But then he just yelled the order:


    ¡°Charge!¡±


    He urged his own horse forwards, into a trot first, then a canter. The werewolves moved with him, overtaking him quickly.


    Maybe Ragna feared for him, too.


    On the other side, three thousand horses came down the slope in three big waves, ready to meet teeth with steel. David spotted the marshall in the second rank, right behind the regimental flag, no doubt yelling at his soldiers, urging them forwards. Three thousand riders against less than three hundred werewolves.


    They had to feel extremely confident.


    The pisscoats moved at a trot first, like the wolves, then at a canter, then a gallop¡ªrolling down the hill, while David¡¯s own gelding was already panting hard moving up. And then, at the last moment, right before riders and wolves met, when David could see the smiles on their faces, their bared teeth¡ªRust howled his magic howl.


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    Sending the horses into a blind panic. Some threw their riders, some reared, others broke away from the giant wolves coming for them, crashing into each other. Forcing their riders to focus on their mounts, just as the wolves closed the distance.


    Teeth met flesh, not steel. Except in David¡¯s case, who swung his sabre with all the force he could muster. The first pisscoat he killed must have dropped his own weapon when his horse baulked. David ran him through with the point of the sabre. He killed another man, then the trumpet called the Valoise to disengage.


    As soon as they did, Fox howled, interrupting their formation for a second time.


    ¡°Go, go,¡± David yelled. ¡°Push!¡±


    Not that the werewolves needed his order. They kept up with the fleeing horses, pulling the men out of the saddles, ripping them apart with cursed teeth.


    Then the wolves reached the high ground. One sharp bark and they slowed, halted, gathering around those who needed time to heal. Along the slope, too, naked men and women rose, shook themselves and became wolves again, catching up with the main body of the army.


    But not all the wounds healed. The pisscoats had silver, alchemy and magic to spare. A dozen or so wolves didn¡¯t rise at all¡ªtheir hearts pierced, their skulls shattered by ironshod hooves¡ªpossibly just unconscious. There was no way to tell from the distance.


    Injured pisscoats slowly rose, too. One of them reached for his sabre and started hacking at the wolf¡¯s body next to him. For a moment, the man¡¯s screams and the blood rushing in his ears were all David could hear.


    Hacking the dead wolf apart wouldn¡¯t save that soldier from turning into a werewolf himself with the next full moon. David wondered if the injured soldiers walking towards their own army had realised that yet. That they would all be killed by their own people once this battle was over.


    If they survived that long. The marshall was gathering his troops for the next round on the closest of the rolling hills.


    For one second, David hesitated. They had a clear way to flee now. An open line of escape towards the river.


    Far, far in the distance waved the banners of the Valoisian reinforcement. If he let them join up, who knew when they would get another chance at killing the marshall?


    ¡°Get ready,¡± David called out.


    Ragna took position to his right. Boris took his left. It felt wrong, but Rust was still somewhere out there, hidden by Lea¡¯s magic. Same as Fox. Hopefully ready to use his magic again.


    But the Valoise were more careful now. Instead of a full charge, they only moved at a trot, parting into two wings, trying to take the werewolves in a pincer. Maybe hoping to avoid at least part of the magic effect. Or to make it easier to stay in the saddle if the horses didn¡¯t bolt in a full gallop. Or maybe they just wanted to spare their horses, given that the werewolves hadn¡¯t moved, forcing them to go down into the swale and then up the other side.


    David waited until they were fully committed to going up again before he gave the signal to charge.


    He had expected Rust to use his magic again, but it never came. Instead, a hidden force attacked the riders from the side, just before the two main armies met. Lea only managed to keep the twenty or so werewolves invisible for all of three seconds of mad fighting. But for three seconds they raged amongst the enemy unseen.


    The stragglers, who hadn¡¯t made it into the village, David guessed. They were cut down viciously by Valoisian sabres, but they drove a wedge into their formation that David followed. He wanted that marshall. Even the Empire didn¡¯t have that many of them. He had to be hard to replace, right?


    David swung his sabre furiously, parried a thrust on the blade, ran the soldier through. There was no time to breathe¡ªthe next one already came at him. Boris stuck with him, guarding his other side, but the Valoise were just as intent on slowing him down as he was on getting the bastard with the fancy hat.


    He had to hand it to them, though¡ªthey didn¡¯t run. They held even under the onslaught of the werewolves, even knowing that they¡¯d have to kill every single one of their survivors. Spurred on by their marshall, they held, waiting for their reinforcements.


    Something brushed right past David, through the narrow gap between him and Boris. Someone unseen.


    There was no gap in the line of Valoise shielding the marshall, though. Lea tried. David could guess where she was, where the horses shied and men fell, screaming, from the saddle. And the pisscoats didn¡¯t need to see her, either.


    One of them whipped out a pistol and shot her. David didn¡¯t need to see the bullet to know it was silver. Lea reappeared, her whole body convulsing¡ªbut not transforming¡ªand she threw her head back to howl in agony.


    For a moment, the battlefield seemed to pause. Then the other werewolves picked up the cry of pain. All of them howling together, like a monstrous choir.


    Magic surged, a fire springing from wolf to wolf. Fox¡¯s whole coat of fur burned blue as he stepped over Lea¡¯s crumpled form, Rust and Ragna likewise were bright like torches. And so did even the youngest of the werewolves. Even Alvin¡¯s ghost seemed more solid suddenly.


    Burning up, like Lenny in his last moments.


    David didn¡¯t think it was deliberate. It absolutely couldn¡¯t be sustainable. It didn¡¯t matter: for the moment, swords bounced off the werewolves like from armour. Even silver failed.


    He swung his sabre and killed a stunned enemy soldier. Boris tore down another two. The cavalry horses which so bravely had faced the giant wolves trembled and shied away from the magic flames. All except for the silver armoured destrier of the marshall.


    David had to hand it to the man, he didn¡¯t freeze or run even as the formation around him crumbled. He parried David¡¯s first thrust, then pointed with his marshall¡¯s staff. A jet of red hot fire sprung at David. The silver sheath George Louis had given him screamed, grounding the spell. David never stopped his blade. It cut the marshall between the ribs first, then the neck. Then the marshall toppled out of the saddle. David followed him, hacking at the neck again, until the head rolled away.

 Chapter 198

    David killed a marshall of the Grande Arm¨¦e. And then he destroyed the rest of the Valoisian cavalry.


    He did it in front of a village full of witnesses, too. It took less than two days for the news to reach Deva.


    There was a lot of confusion about how exactly he did it¡ªmagic and werewolves, that was the only bit on which all the refugees from Mirtbrook agreed on. It should have been a reason for celebration.


    You¡¯d think it would be a reason for celebration, right?


    The palace guards instead eyed Greg with barely disguised fear when he entered the palace. They didn¡¯t try to stop him, but they certainly weren¡¯t happy to see him. Which was wild, given that David and his army had just killed a marshal of the Grande Arm¨¦e.


    And ten thousand of his riders, according to the rumours. Greg had a hard time believing the stories that the refugees carried into the city. Not least because Lord de Vale said that the Valoise hadn¡¯t had ten thousand riders to begin with.


    As unfair as it was, it hadn¡¯t earned the werewolves a lot of friends in Deva. On the contrary¡ªthe display of power had sowed new fears. Not just about them, but about David¡¯s intentions, too. Greg had a feeling that the main reason why the guards did nothing more than glare at him was Lane¡¯s popularity. It was still rather hard to argue with a woman blessed by Mithras Himself. Especially after that woman had saved so many people.


    She smiled at him warmly as he walked into the office, and he gratefully sank into his seat behind his desk. Not that he got the peaceful morning of processing files for the paper money he had been hoping for.


    ¡°L-Lord Feleke?¡±


    Greg looked up from the paperwork slowly. He had heard the messenger come in, he¡¯d just expected the message to be for Lane. Or possibly, Grooch, who sometimes received missives from other secretaries. Greg didn¡¯t have a network of his own that would bypass Lane, and neither Mr. Higgins nor Gustave would send mail for him to the office.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, message from Duke Stuard.¡±


    Greg almost dropped his quill at that.


    ¡°Yes?¡± he prompted, when nothing else followed.


    ¡°His Highness is requesting your presence. Immediately.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªsure. Where?¡± Greg asked, putting down the quill and quickly reaching for the paper to blot out some excess ink.


    ¡°At the throne room, Sir.¡±


    So Greg went, despite the sense of trepidation he felt at these summons. He hadn¡¯t spoken to the duke since Morgulon and Pierre had fought¡ªwhich added an entirely new strain to the atmosphere in the palace. Not that the humans noticed that. Greg barely noticed himself, but he knew Annabelle and her small pack¡ªor possibly group of handmaidens¡ªcomplained about it a lot.


    When he arrived at the throne room, there were already plenty of people there: craftsmen were busy dismantling the low stone bannister around the old throne. The duke stood to the side. That was remarkable in itself, that he was fit enough to stand for any length of time. There was a man with a sketchbook standing by his side, presenting something.


    Stuard was tapping his foot impatiently. As soon as he spotted Greg, he waved him over.


    ¡°Lord Feleke, there you are. This is Master Bassun, who will create the new throne. I¡¯d like you to have a look.¡±


    Master Bassun promptly pressed the large sketchbook into Greg¡¯s hand. It showed several elaborate drawings, all of the same chair in different angles. There were some obvious nods to the old throne. The base was still formed by the block of marble¡ªpossibly the same block of marble, though this one appeared to have been carved, making it look a little less stocky. The bannister that had used to surround the throne was missing, and the backrest looked more like it belonged to an actual chair. It even had a cushion, and real armrests. Above the cushion¡ªabove the head of anyone sitting on it¡ªwas the same filigree that the old throne had, still with the tree motif. Half a tree in the first sketch. The other half was a wolf¡¯s face¡ªhalf of it, again. There was also a version with the full werewolf next to the full tree, which Greg thought looked rather awkward, and one each with the wolf¡¯s head above and below the tree¡¯s crown.


    Greg kept his eyes fixed on the pages to stop himself from staring at the duke. He couldn¡¯t imagine him sitting on a throne like that. Nor any of these crests on an official banner¡ªa seal¡ªa Loegrian flag¡­


    ¡°Well?¡± the duke asked. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    Greg glanced up at him, and finally said: ¡°I am mostly wondering how you¡¯re going to sell this to the rest of Loegrion.¡±


    The artist nodded eagerly behind the duke¡¯s back, giving Greg a relieved grin. Right until Stuard said: ¡°Interesting thing for a werewolf to say. I thought you¡¯d like it.¡±


    ¡°I do like it.¡± Greg managed not to grimace as the artist took an involuntary step backwards. And then another one. ¡°I just don¡¯t think we¡¯re as popular as we were at the beginning of the war¡ªwhat with all the unsettled ones loose in the southern Heartlands.¡±


    ¡°Interesting you mention that,¡± the duke said. ¡°I was hoping to speak to you about that issue, too.¡± He took the sketchbook out of Greg¡¯s hands, flipped through the image that had half a wolf¡¯s head and half a tree, and pushed it at the artist. ¡°See to it, Master Bassun. The sooner you can get it done, the better.¡±


    Then he waved at Greg to follow, took a step, then halted again, waving at Greg to go first. Probably not wanting to turn his back on him? Or maybe he was just tired? He fell behind immediately. Greg sighed and stopped, forcing the duke to step up to him or make it really obvious that he was trying to keep his distance.


    Stuard took a deep breath, and then did step up to him.


    ¡°May I ask where we are going, Your Highness?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°My office. If you don¡¯t mind?¡± The duke repeated the little wave to make him walk onwards.


    So Greg walked, slowly, measuring his steps to those of the Duke Stuard. At least he knew the direction now.


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    ¡°Is there a date set yet for¡ªfor when you¡¯ll need the new chair?¡± Greg asked when the silence between them started to get on his nerves.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get to that,¡± the duke said, still somewhat out of breath just from walking across the flat halls of the palace. ¡°In a moment.¡±


    So Greg kept his mouth shut until they got to the duke¡¯s office. Annabelle was already there, with the three she-wolves who followed her around.


    Got yourself dragged into this, huh? Annabelle asked when she saw Greg.


    ¡°What did I let myself get dragged into?¡± Greg asked back.


    But before Annabelle could answer, the duke said: ¡°If you would be so kind as to assure our privacy, Annabelle?¡±


    She rolled her eyes. Notice how he¡¯s trying to act all brave around us suddenly?, she asked.


    But she did get up and walked towards the back of the room, leaning her shoulder against a wall panel right next to the oven, which swung outwards. Two more she-wolves followed her, while the last one padded right at Greg and the door they had just walked through. He held it open for her before she could ask and watched as she curled up outside. Like a guard dog.


    The duke took another deep breath as the door closed, unclenching the fists Greg hadn¡¯t even noticed he had balled.


    ¡°Sit! Sit, please!¡± the duke said with a cheer so fake that Greg barely managed to suppress a flinch.


    He did take a guest chair, and the duke sat down behind his heavy and overwrought desk.


    ¡°So you noticed that public opinion about werewolves is shifting again,¡± Stuard said, leaning back.


    ¡°It¡¯s very hard not to notice, if you¡¯re the one everyone is suddenly staring at again, yes, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°Right. Sure. So, to make the matter even more complicated, a little bird told me that David is on his way here with all his surviving werewolves. Who apparently are still numbering over two hundred.¡±


    The duke stared at him, clearly expecting some kind of reaction from him.


    So Greg said: ¡°Deva is going to be thrilled.¡±


    Apparently, that answer was unsatisfactory. ¡°Frankly, I¡¯m less worried about Deva than I am about the nobility still gathered here,¡± the duke replied sharply. ¡°You do realise just how much¡ªdamage¡ªDavid has done to some of these nobles? Half the peers will be paupers by the time the war ends.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see what you want me to do here.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± The duke planted his elbows on the desktop. ¡°To put it very simply: I want you to help me help David avoid a treason charge.¡±


    That made even less sense.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to be the person handing out such charges?¡± Greg asked back.


    ¡°I will be. In a few months, hopefully. But clearly, this is not the ideal moment for a coronation.¡± The duke sighed. ¡°Look. All I need from him is a display of loyalty. A reason for me to be loyal to him without looking like I¡¯m welcoming a potential usurper with open arms.¡±


    Ah. So word had travelled.


    ¡°I see that you know what I¡¯m talking about.¡±


    ¡°Who else knows about that?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Everyone will, soon. Apparently it¡¯s been talked about at Windish,¡± George Louis said, grimacing. ¡°Enough so that it reached Lady Ariana¡¯s ears, who is understandably concerned. She hasn¡¯t yet raised the question as to why Morgulon didn¡¯t offer her powers when her husband was still alive, but I could hardly blame her if she did.¡±


    Right.


    ¡°The lady did share her concerns at the last council meeting. Where it became apparent that the army had known about this, too. Lady deLande unfortunately wasn¡¯t present then to say anything.¡±


    ¡°What a coincidence,¡± Greg muttered.


    ¡°Yes, well, I did not arrange for her to be away,¡± the duke defended himself promptly. ¡°However. Lord deVale informed me that David expects me to stab him and the rest of the werewolves in the back at the first opportunity.¡±


    Greg sat very still, trying to figure out where this was going. Was he supposed to act surprised? Or shocked?


    The duke sighed, shaking his head. ¡°Lord¡ªGregory. Greg. Let¡¯s be honest, just between the two of us. David has made all of you indispensable when he set the Rot loose in the Heartlands. We only held onto Loegrion after the last war because the Valoise were willing to invest the silver necessary. At this point, my only choice is between the Valoise and the werewolves.¡±


    ¡°So¡­you¡¯re here to tell me that you¡¯re picking us, yes?¡±


    The duke looked away, and Greg had a strong sense that he was praying for patience. Then he suddenly slapped the desk, leaning forwards. ¡°What do you want¡ªyour own bit of forest? A couple of villages? Your own mine? It needn¡¯t be silver. Or, I suppose you¡¯d have a better chance than most in securing yourself a place at the Abhain¡¯s shores?¡±


    He didn¡¯t seem to be joking.


    ¡°If you throw in a coat of arms, I¡¯ll think about it,¡± Greg said. Mostly because he had no idea what else to say.


    ¡°Yes, yes, yes, fine. Whatever,¡± the duke grumbled. ¡°Can we get back to the point now?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°I have no idea what point you¡¯re trying to make, but sure.¡±


    Stuard picked up a little figurine that sat in front of him on the desk¡ªan owl, Greg guessed, rather roughly hacked from wood. About the size of a fist. Quite ugly, really, yet worn smooth, as if the duke had handled it a lot.


    ¡°Your brother is bad at politics,¡± the duke finally said, turning the owl in his hands. ¡°And he doesn¡¯t trust me. If he storms into the city with his army of werewolves¡ªwhich just killed an Imperial Marshall and defeated a force outnumbering them thirty to one¡ªpeople might very well panic. Worse, I will be pressed by some of my closest allies to get rid of him before he stages a coup of his own and makes himself a werewolf-king.¡±


    He sat the little figurine down. ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight my own allies.¡±


    ¡°I thought this is about David.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the same thing!¡± George Louis snapped. ¡°You know people¡ªhumans¡ªwon¡¯t back him. The idea that the werewolves might, will cause trouble. Unless he makes it clear he¡¯s not reaching for the crown. At all.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re talking to me about this¡ªwhy?¡±


    ¡°David trusts you. And you get the politics. And you can talk to him, as a wolf, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­¡± Greg said, stretching the word.


    ¡°So you could explain. When he gets here. Maybe feed him some lines. And we could make it look like it¡¯s coming from David, spontaneously.¡±


    ¡°You want me to help you stage a performance. With David in the main role.¡±


    ¡°Basically, yes.¡±


    Greg thought about it.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to need one hell of an act to calm people down,¡± he pointed out. ¡°And David is many things, but hardly an entertainer.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± the duke said, relaxing a little. ¡°It can look as wooden as a marionette. Then it¡¯ll look authentically David. As long as there¡¯re the right gestures. And words.¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­¡± Greg hummed under his breath. ¡°You know, we¡¯ll have to get Morgulon in on this.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± the duke said, suspiciously fast. ¡°I just thought it would be more helpful to start with someone who, well, speaks in complete sentences.¡±


    ¡°Oh, she can do that. As a wolf, I mean,¡± Greg said.


    But at least he saw why the duke had wanted him. ¡°Did you talk to Lane about this?¡±


    ¡°She can¡¯t help, can she?¡± the duke asked. ¡°Without being obvious about it, I mean.¡±


    ¡°No, but she can complete the picture. You know. Greeting her fiance back from the war and all that.¡±


    The duke looked away, grimacing. But he did nod, eventually. ¡°Of course,¡± he muttered. ¡°Of course.¡±


    He grimaced again, staring at the little owl. ¡°But you will help?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I will try my best, yes,¡± Greg said.


    Of course he would help David.

 Chapter 199

    The Relentless killed Marshall Soto. And then he¡ªand the werewolves¡ªspent the next couple of days hunting down the rest of the Valoisian cavalry. They killed them all. Took no prisoners. Not even the generals.


    Marshall Allard had to admit he probably wouldn¡¯t have acted any differently in the Feleke¡¯s place¡ªit wasn¡¯t like the werewolves could keep prisoners during the full moon, so they might as well kill them right away.


    He was wise enough to keep that opinion to himself though. Hearing about the massacre from the few survivors certainly inspired his soldiers.


    They still had to kill the men. It wasn¡¯t worth the risk of keeping them around.


    ¡°What do we do now?¡± the Levant asked after another execution. Since the news had reached them, he was pale and withdrawn. No longer trying to make all the decisions.


    Allard quite liked that new side.


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, ¡°my suggestion is the same as before: We lead the army back east, until we reach the coast, take Deggan. Resupply and reinforce there, then move up the White Torrent We destroy Deva and end this foolishness for good.¡±


    ¡°You think the werewolves will let us?¡± the prince asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they have the numbers yet to stop us. We can be nearly at the coast by the time of the next full moon. I believe the sea will protect us from more than just the Rot.¡±


    The prince rubbed his hands together, then nodded. ¡°See to it.¡±


    Allard smiled as soon as his back was turned. The boy had never lost a battle. It would do him good to learn humility.


    ***


    Despite all of the duke¡¯s concerns, to Greg, David¡¯s imminent arrival might have been a reason for celebration. Might¡ªif a Rot-queen didn¡¯t level Bayburgh the same day. The news found Greg in the office, working on his forms. The runner smashed open the door, having run so hard he barely got the words out to tell Lane that a train was coming, filled with refugees.


    Greg and Lane hurried to Deva Central Station. They arrived there just in time to watch the single, terrifyingly over-boarded train crawl into the building. As it turned out, it was the only thing that had managed to escape Bayburgh, carrying the only survivors of a city that had once numbered tens of thousands of souls.


    It arrived at Deva just before dusk, which made the attack even more scary¡ªthe Rot-queen had come in broad daylight.


    Greg had never felt so useless as when he stood in that great hall that was filled with people yet deadly quiet, watching while Lane gave orders. All he could do was stare at the train, at the huge gashes something had left in the wood of the wagons, and wonder what a creature it must have been. It was a miracle that not one of the wagons had been pushed out of the tracks.


    Nobody even came within arm¡¯s reach of him, even as the hall filled up further with helpers and the terrified refugees that kept spilling from the train like fruit from a cornucopia.


    ¡°Get me Morgulon,¡± Lane interrupted his thoughts.


    Greg nodded numbly and turned on the spot, not bothering to undress first, barely even caring about the screams of terrors when he ripped his clothes to shreds. He just threw his head back and howled, like a toddler screaming for his mother. Unlike a toddler, he had some serious doubts even Morgulon could deal with a Rot-queen and the army of bodies it would have raised after destroying a whole city.


    Pierre wouldn¡¯t help her, would he? After their fight? Would the other elders of his pack? Perhaps Monroe and his wife would be willing? Had they ever fought a Rot-queen? Was that just something older werewolves had to get used to?


    He could just about picture tomorrow¡¯s headline: ¡°What are the werewolves even good for, if they can¡¯t stop the Rot from sacking cities?¡±


    Maybe he shouldn¡¯t have ruined his clothes. Now he had to stay wolf and endure the refugees¡ªand the helpers taking care of them¡ªstaring at him.


    There were a surprising amount of helpers. Lane had a whole network of them, eateries offering up their kitchens, merchants providing the produce and meat, volunteers to hand out food and clothes to the dispossessed. To offer a shoulder to cry on, take in the children who had lost their parents, and eventually, bundle them all up and place them on a northbound train. It all worked like clockwork, which was amazing and scary, because it showed just how quickly Lane¡ªand Deva¡ªhad gotten used to dealing with groups like this.


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    By the time Morgulon arrived, the first refugee train had left and the next one was smoothly taking its place. She was curiously calm, even when Lane told her what had happened.


    ¡°We¡ªI need you to destroy that Rot-queen,¡± Lane finished. ¡°Do you¡ªcan you even do that?¡±


    Morgulon¡¯s tail swished through the air. The Red is around, she said. We¡¯ll manage.


    Greg gaped at Morgulon, cursing himself again for destroying his clothes. Now he couldn¡¯t even tell Lane¡ªthe Red? Finally?


    He won¡¯t fight the Valoise, Morgulon added. But the Rot, he will help against.


    And then, for Lane, she nodded in that exaggerated fashion of a giant wolf using human gestures.


    Greg shook himself and decided to find himself something to dress in. Surely, the volunteers had a pair of pants to spare.


    Morgulon followed him. You¡¯ll make sure the cubs are taken care off, won¡¯t you? she asked.


    Of course, Greg said.


    Good. Morgulon gently bumped her head into his shoulder. I¡¯ll be back, she added. Probably.


    Wasn¡¯t that reassuring.


    He stole a pair of pants from a rickety folding table and went to find a somewhat quiet corner to turn human and at least cover up a little bit, then went to find Lane again.


    She took his report of what Morgulon had said with a perfect poker face, overseeing the efforts around her from atop a bench.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± was all she said. ¡°If you would inform the palace of what is going on?¡±


    Greg nodded. He let himself be sent away¡ªthere was nothing he could do here in any case. People were too scared of him. Especially the refugees.


    Deva, on the other hand, was divided: scared of what David might do once he got there, and yet aware of what terrors the Rot would bring them if it weren¡¯t for the werewolves. So he could jog through the city as a wolf without people doing more than screaming in shock when they saw him.


    Not that that wasn¡¯t bad enough.


    He reported to the palace what had happened, but couldn¡¯t bring himself to get back to the paperwork. There was no way he could focus on that, in any case. So he went home, filled in his family on what had happened, too. Dinner was almost ready, but he couldn¡¯t make himself sit down.


    ¡°Want to go out?¡± he asked Thoko. ¡°Maybe see if Gustave is in?¡±


    He wanted to feel human. To dress up and disappear in a crowd and just¡ªnot be stared at.


    His mother frowned, but didn¡¯t say anything. And Thoko was happy to go into the city with him. Greg considered asking Nathan and Andrew, too, but then changed his mind. If Gustave wasn¡¯t home, it could be just Thoko and him.


    As it turned out, Gustave was indeed not home when Greg knocked. The woman staffing the door relented and informed him that his friend was at his club at the university. Which was fine. Thoko was by his side.


    He just really would have liked¡­


    He wasn¡¯t sure what. He wasn¡¯t sure what this feeling was. Worry for Morgulon, annoyance at the people in the city, and whatever his wolf-side added into the mix.


    All he knew was that he was restless. Agitated. Looking for a distraction.


    He didn¡¯t want to think about Morgulon, fighting a Rot-queen and its army, or David, making his way through the country with who knew how many werewolves had survived.


    ¡°Want to cross the river, see if we find him?¡± Thoko asked.


    Greg blinked at her in distraction. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Gustave,¡± Thoko said, raising her eyebrows at him.


    Maybe. Or maybe they should just find a bar.


    Students drank, too, though, didn¡¯t they?


    Thoko reached for his hand. ¡°Come,¡± she said, making the decision for him.


    Greg let himself be led through the warm summer evening. It was a nice walk. Together, it was easier to pretend he was just one of the countless young men taking his young lady for a walk. Maybe people just didn¡¯t believe that someone as pretty as Thoko could be walking out with a werewolf.


    Or maybe Greg was just distracted from the stares because he kept glancing at her.


    ¡°Eyal wrote to me,¡± Thoko said after another minute. ¡°I mean, he¡¯s been writing to me the whole time. But anyway, they¡¯ve rebuilt, mostly, and Laurent is back at the camp for now. Do you think we could go there? I¡¯d like to know my father is safe and buried before the Valoisian army gets here.¡±


    Greg¡¯s first reflex was to say no. He was still needed here. David was on the way.


    Which was stupid. David was a week away. Plenty of time to get to Eoforwic, collect the body, move to the Savre Camp, have a funeral, and take the train back.


    ¡°What about your family?¡± he asked. ¡°They¡¯ll want to be there, right?¡±


    ¡°I thought we could meet them at the Camp,¡± Thoko said. ¡°And we pick up¡ªwe pick father up at Eoforwic.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Greg said. ¡°I mean, if Mother is willing to look after the babies and the cubs. But we¡¯ve got to be quick. I need to be here when David gets back.¡±

 Chapter 200

    Aaron stopped the cart and Thoko jumped to the ground. The little bag full of silver juggled against her thigh. She, Yamikani and Greg walked up to the entry of Eoforwic¡¯s catacombs. Her palms were sweating, and not just from the sun. Would the guards let her take her father¡¯s body? Did she have enough money to bribe them if they refused?


    Greg carried the linens they were going to wrap the body in, her mother the blanket she had woven. It would go into the earth with him.


    But first they needed to retrieve the body. Which was illegal.


    They should have brought Lord Feleke, or Imani. Or the Countess deLande. Someone with the authority to override the guards¡¯ orders.


    Thoko bit her lips nervously as she approached the men at the gate. She was proud that her voice barely shook as she said: ¡°I¡¯ve come for my father.¡±


    The two men covered in silver looked at her, her mother, Greg, the cart. ¡°Really, Miss?¡± the older one asked. They clearly remembered her. ¡°Where are you going to take the body?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to take him to my land,¡± she said, trying to project confidence. ¡°So he may finally rest.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quite restful here, Miss. Look, you ain''t¡¯ the first one asking this. Keeping him up on the shelf is one thing, but if you take him into the city, it¡¯s our jobs.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Thoko said. ¡°I won¡¯t take him into the city.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really. Think you can make it through the forest with a dead body in tow? On that old cart? How much alchemy did you bring?¡±


    Thoko glanced over her shoulder. Greg hunched up his shoulder but nodded at her. ¡°I need no alchemy. I brought a werewolf. Will you let me pass?¡±


    For a second, the guards looked stunned, but then they laughed. ¡°Well, well, well, Miss, that¡¯s a fine bluff.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not bluffing.¡± Thoko reached into the little bag with the silver. Greg turned his head away. When she flicked the coin at him, he jerked and made no motion to catch it. She could see his jaws work as he pulled his sleeve over his fingers to pick it up. Under the guards¡¯ scrutiny, he dropped it into his other, naked palm, closed his hand around it, and dropped it again. When he raised his palm, the portrait of the Roi Solei was almost recognizable, burned into his skin.


    Thoko shuddered. Had he always hurt that much? She wouldn¡¯t have flicked the coin at him without a word if she had known it would burn him so badly. Was that another thing that time affected?


    She still remembered him getting just a rash, back when they had visited Sheaf together for the first time.


    The guards slowly shifted their grips on their silver-tipped weapons. They glanced at each other, then the werewolf before them. Neither of them seemed eager to deal with that problem and after a breathless moment, they stepped aside.


    ¡°I hope you know what you¡¯re doing, Miss,¡± one of them said.


    ¡°I hope so too,¡± Thoko muttered under her breath as she walked past them. Greg followed her, breathing flatly. She could see goosebumps run down his arms, and she thought there was a light around his head, a blue shimmer around his hair. Or maybe it was just a trick of the eye. His eyes certainly watered, though that might have been the smoke from the torches.


    They walked into the back of the catacombs quickly, and for once, Thoko didn¡¯t talk to her father as she helped Greg and her mother to wrap him into the cloth.


    Greg picked up the burden.


    ¡°Do you want¡ª¡±


    Help, Thoko had meant to say, but Greg turned and nearly ran out. He didn¡¯t stop at the guards¡¯ station, and when he reached the cart, he unceremoniously dropped the body inside and started coughing violently.


    ¡°I am never¡ªnever¡ªgoing back in there,¡± he grunted, once he had caught his breath.


    ¡°Worse than the alchemy from the Eoforwic bridge?¡±


    Greg nodded vehemently, but then slowed. ¡°Maybe. Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°We¡¯re being watched.¡±


    The guards were indeed staring at them, so Thoko climbed in and reached out to give her mother a hand. Greg followed last and then they were off, as fast as Aaron¡¯s oxen would go.


    It took nearly ten minutes for them to reach the trees and lose sight of the catacombs.


    But they had time. They had food and drink, and if they didn¡¯t reach First Camp today, well, they had blankets, too. The nights were warm and it didn¡¯t look like rain.


    And at First Camp, nobody would stop them from taking a dead body onto the train, at least as long as they were willing to travel in a cargo wagon. So they were sure to reach the Savre Camp tomorrow with the evening train. Thoko couldn¡¯t wait to see her own plot of land, finally. Eyal had said it was a good one¡ªall the land they had been given was good. The duke had made no attempt to screw them over in any way.


    Probably David¡¯s influence.


    ***


    The Savre Camp had been rebuilt, bigger and better, with solid wooden walls, a roof above the train station¡¯s single platform, and the first proper houses. In the centre of the Camp stood the repaired Meeting Hall. A single clay giant kneeled under the porch roof in front, chin resting on one fist in a thoughtful pose. It looked deliberately non-threatening to Thoko.


    Travellers would likely think the figure just a memorial to the battle fought here. There was no sign that it might ever move and it didn¡¯t have the glowing sigil burned into its forehead, but Thoko was sure that Eyal¡¯s crew could wake it, should the need arise.


    Otherwise, the crew likely would have used a different material than loam.


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    ¡°Thoko! Greg! You made it!¡±


    Isaak came running at them from behind the golem, his arms spread wide. He made to hug Greg, spotted the white-wrapped burden he carried, and turned to Thoko instead. She smiled in relief when he wrapped his long arms around her, lifting her up in the air a bit and swinging her around. His grin was infectious as always.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember if you ever did meet my mother?¡± Thoko said, when he put her down again. ¡°Yamikani.¡±


    ¡°Of course we¡¯ve met,¡± Isaak said, and took Yamikani¡¯s hand in both of his. ¡°Right after you signed up with us. I¡¯m glad you came, Mrs. Banda.¡±


    Finally, he slapped Greg¡¯s shoulder.


    And there were Eyal, Nosson and Gavrel. Anshel wore a flap where his eye used to be, and he still limped. But he had pulled through the injuries sustained in the Rot-queens¡¯ attack and also the five months after he¡¯d been bitten. Too many others hadn¡¯t.


    Thoko introduced her mother around, conscious of the burden Greg still carried. Eyal seemed to think the same thing, because he asked: ¡°Do you want to see the place?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please. How far is it to my plot?¡±


    Eyal paused. ¡°Oh. I was thinking¡ªwe do have a cemetery,¡± he said. ¡°Unless you want him even closer to home?¡±


    ¡°You have¡ª?¡±


    But of course they had. So many people had died here during the siege of the Rot-queens, of course they had a place to honour their dead.


    ¡°We call it a cemetery,¡± Eyal said, with a slightly forced smile. ¡°Laurent calls it his favourite place to rest. But yes. There¡¯re safe grounds here.¡±


    Speaking of the werewolf, there he was: Laurent came sauntering around the hall, in his human body, flanked by seven more werewolves. Three of them¡ªOli, Ruad and Anthony¡ªThoko recognized. She had no idea who the others were.


    Greg frowned, too. ¡°How¡¯d you get the Lackland Company to assign you so many?¡±


    ¡°What, you don¡¯t recognize them?¡± Isaak asked. ¡°Mendel, Randal, Dicun and Harold?¡±


    Greg repeated the names softly, his face doing something complicated as he looked from wolf to wolf. ¡°Hello,¡± he said softly. He cleared his throat, and added: ¡°Glad to see you made it.¡±


    One of them bumped his head into Greg¡¯s chest, tail wagging lazily. ¡°They¡¯re just learning to speak like this,¡± Laurent said. ¡°But they¡¯re glad you made it, too.¡±


    He walked forwards, until he stood in front of Greg, holding out a hand. He didn¡¯t quite touch the linen, but said: ¡°He was a man of power in life, wasn¡¯t he?¡±


    He turned around and walked off before Thoko or her mother could answer, and Greg followed him. After a couple of steps, Greg flicked his head in a motion Thoko recognized. Clearly, Laurent hadn¡¯t asked him if he wanted to come along.


    ¡°Father was a healer,¡± Thoko said, following the elder. ¡°Will that be a problem?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll bury him deep,¡± Laurent said, tossing his long brown hair. ¡°No, it won¡¯t be a problem. The Rot is retreating ever further.¡±


    They walked past the communal hall, past Nosson¡¯s kitchen and the space ahead¡ªwhat looked like it would become a market place one day¡ªand through a second gate.


    ¡°That¡¯s new,¡± Thoko muttered to her mother. ¡°There used to be only one gate, towards the railway station.¡±


    Behind the new gate lay the cemetery, surrounded by its own walls. These even had a stone foundation. Orderly little paths and the stone-marked graves dominated half of the walled-off space, the other half belonged to the werewolves. Thoko could see where the earth had been flattened where they liked to lay in the sun. Right around a sturdy little building. It was no larger than a shed, but much nicer, with double doors that had a six-pointed star engraved in them in silver.


    Eyal walked over and opened them, revealing a bier inside. Other than that, it really was a shed, with tools in racks along the walls.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be safe here for the night,¡± Eyal promised, as Greg placed the body on the bier.


    ¡°We should use the rest of the light though,¡± Eyal added, and reached for the shovels, handed one to Isaak. ¡°Do you have any special requirements? Any direction you¡¯d like him to face?¡±


    Thoko shook her head at the same moment as her mother said: ¡°Just deep enough that the Rot can¡¯t dig him up. Or the Valoise.¡±


    ¡°We can certainly do that, Mrs. Banda,¡± Eyal promised. He looked at the seven wolves already settling down. ¡°Want to give us a hand? Or a paw?¡±


    Oli jumped up, ears flopping eagerly. The rest of them only followed when Laurent held out his hand for a shovel. He looked around and pointed at a spot. ¡°Here, in the sun will be good,¡± he said, and looked back at Yamikani. ¡°Does that work for you?¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Yamikani said. Her voice sounded rough. Thoko herself felt herself swaying a little when two of the giant wolves started to dig with their claws and the earth went flying. She caught a whiff of something stale, but before she could get nervous, the smell was gone again.


    Had she just imagined that?


    She couldn¡¯t quite believe this was really happening. That they were finally...


    Tomorrow. Tomorrow her father would finally find rest.


    It didn¡¯t quite feel real.


    ***


    It was hard work, digging through what used to be forest ground. The wolves took turns deepening the hole and removing roots and stones, while Laurent, Eyal and Isaak used their shovels to get the dirt further out of the way. Thoko took a turn, too, smelling the fresh loam and sometimes the sickly sweet smell of the Rot.


    About three feet deep, there was a layer of something slimy, reeking of death and decay, and Laurent pushed both Thoko and Isaak away. The elder¡¯s yellow eyes flashed bright.


    ¡°Make it wider,¡± he ordered the digging wolves. ¡°We want to get as much of this as possible while we¡¯re at it.¡±


    He stood guard over them, shovel raised to strike, dearing the Rot to rear its ugly head.


    But nothing moved. As the werewolves unearthed the stinking mass, it changed. Much faster than should be possible, the sun burned out the wetness, and the slimy sheen vanished, until all there was were some strange white fungal growths and a lot of dead leaves.


    ¡°Figures,¡± Laurent muttered. ¡°Coward.¡±


    What would have happened if the elder hadn¡¯t been here? If they had tried this at Courtenay a year ago, with only Greg to guard them against the Rot? Suddenly, Thoko was glad, glad for the delay, for having waited.


    Yamikani wrapped her shawl tighter around herself and muttered a prayer to the ancestors.


    Even with the widened opening, there wasn¡¯t enough space for all seven wolves to help dig. A couple of them started at a new place, just on the other side of the earth they had piled up.


    ¡°Oi!¡± Eyal shouted at them. ¡°Not there! You¡¯ll push the heap right back into the grave.¡±


    He sighed and walked over to direct their enthusiasm to a more useful place. ¡°Here.


    ¡°You¡¯d think they never did this before,¡± Isaak griped.


    ¡°You have dug a lot of graves?¡± Yamikani asked, looking around.


    Isaak shrugged. ¡°Graves, basements, foundations. Oh, and wells, of course. Anything we build around here gets the Laurent-treatment first. Except for the fields. Those we just ploughed real deep. Don¡¯t have enough werewolves to cleanse them yet. Worst case, we might have to burn the first crops, but we¡¯re hoping that as long as we don¡¯t plant anything that roots too deep, we¡¯ll be good. It¡¯s not like the Rot is feeling brave right now.¡±


    ¡°The underground layers are getting thinner, too,¡± Isaak added as Greg jumped in with a shovel to help. ¡°First few graves we dug, it was as thick as my arm is long.¡±


    Now, it was barely a foot deep. Half a foot as it got closer to the werewolves¡¯ resting places.


    ¡°It¡¯ll take forever to do this in every settlement,¡± Yamikani said softly. ¡°Still, it is good to start here.¡±


    She looked around the little cemetery, at the flowers blooming on some of the graves. Thoko thought she could see the thoughts running through her mother¡¯s head. Yamikani had never loved Loegrion, had only ever tolerated living on the cursed continent. Did she see it now, the dream? The great dream that had made Thoko join Eyal¡¯s crew, a lifetime ago?


    The dream of a free Loegrion, cleansed from the Rot, and free from the Inquisition¡¯s¡ªany Valoisian¡ªinfluence.

 Chapter 201

    As the shadows grew long, the werewolves finished their work. It didn¡¯t look like a grave so much as like a crater, but Thoko didn¡¯t say anything. She was too grateful for the hard work they had done.


    ¡°Want us to put some bricks in?¡± a voice behind her asked.


    Thoko jumped. She hadn¡¯t even noticed how the rest of the workers had gotten off shift. Digger stood behind her. ¡°We can do wood, too,¡± he offered. ¡°Some salted planks, give it a bit of a proper shape.¡±


    Thoko shook her head. ¡°Thank you. We want him to be in the ground, though.The actual earth,¡± she added.


    ¡°Oh, we can do both,¡± Digger said. And before she could stop him, he walked off again.


    ¡°Right.¡± Eyal jumped into the hole and used his spade to mark the boundaries of the new grave, then struggled to get out again. He raised one of his big hands, full of dirt, as if to reach for Thoko¡¯s arm and dropped it again. ¡°Want to see what else you risked your life for?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure Digger doesn¡¯t get too excited. Isaak can show you around.¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Isaak called. He grinned at them. ¡°Ye gotta go and see yer land, Thoko, Mrs. Banda. Come on!¡±


    So Thoko let herself be led back into the main camp. Beyond the gate, Isaak swung left, to where the new homes were being erected, replacing the old barracks. ¡°We decided to keep all the houses together,¡± he explained. ¡°Makes it easier to protect them. Yer fields lay that way¡±¡ªhe pointed southwest, away from the river. ¡°But here, this is your lot. I¡¯m yer neighbour, over there.¡±


    Thoko nodded silently. Her allotment was empty, except for a deep hole somewhat to the side that showed the foundations of Isaak¡¯s unfinished house. So far, there was only a basement visible. She did see a couple of pipe-openings from the road, so far


    ¡°Going to have proper sanitation,¡± Isaak explained proudly. ¡°None of that chamber pot business.¡±


    Thoko smiled. ¡°How fancy. Is that why you already started digging a basement for my place?¡±


    ¡°Nah, ye had a bit of an oak problem,¡± Isaak explained. ¡°I mean we both had. Huge old tree, with a root that spread into my lot. So it had to go before we could begin construction. And just as we got the bloody taproot out, it tried to walk off. Bit of a last hurrah for the Rot.¡±


    ¡°Laurent chewed it down to splinters,¡± Anshel added.


    ¡°It¡¯s a very nice size,¡± Yamikani said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would be so big. Will there be enough land left to have a decent field?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Isaak said. ¡°No worries, Mrs. Banda. The fields are actually a bit larger than we asked for.¡±


    ¡°Larger?¡±


    Isaak nodded enthusiastically. ¡°Yeah. See, Eyal, he went and talked to His Highness, only he was smart about it, did it while Lord Feleke was there. Greg¡¯s older brother, I mean.¡±


    Yamikani looked from Greg to Isaak, eyebrows arched in confusion. ¡°How would that help?¡±


    Isaak grinned. ¡°No clue. But everyone knows that the Hero of Oldstone Castle keeps the duke straight. Especially when dealing, ye know, with werewolves and people like us.¡±


    ¡°David¡¯s going to love that,¡± Greg muttered.


    ¡°It¡¯s not wrong though, is it?¡± Thoko asked.


    Greg grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡±


    There was something he wasn¡¯t telling her, but this probably wasn¡¯t the moment to ask.


    The bell rang to call the crews to dinner. Food still came from Nosson¡¯s communal kitchen, but with the warm air, most people ate in front of the central hall, where a bunch of tables stood laid out under what looked like sails spanned from a central tree.


    ¡°Did you ever bring the tables back inside?¡± Greg asked. ¡°Or did you just go ahead and eat outside ever since the queens attacked?¡±


    ¡°Mostly outside. It¡¯s nice out here, isn¡¯t it? And we sort of need the space inside.¡±


    He didn¡¯t elaborate what they needed the space for, but looking around, Thoko saw a lot more people with the same dark hair and eyes as Isaak. There were even some women and children, and she guessed that the Wayfarers needed more space for all their people to pray.


    They found seats and had one of Nosson¡¯s excellent dinners. Clearly, the crews had expanded the kitchen, allowing the cook to expand his dishes past one-pot stews. Today, it was a roast marinated in vinegar, with a choice of trimmings to go along, and just as Thoko was used to from working with the crew, fresh bread.


    ¡°Nosson really needs to open a restaurant,¡± Greg said, clearing his plate. He looked over to the kitchen, and Thoko knew without asking that he was thinking about getting seconds. He didn¡¯t get up, though.


    Thoko expected her mother to want to see the rooms they would be staying in, over at the roadhouse, but instead, Yamikani asked to see the surroundings of the camp.


    ¡°Would it be safe if it was just the two of us?¡± she asked, looking at Thoko.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± Isaak said. ¡°We haven¡¯t had an issue in a while, but we also never got people walking around after dark on their own. Take Greg. Or any of the wolves, really.¡±


    Thoko sighed when she saw her mother¡¯s face, but Yamikani nodded, and agreed to let Greg come along. In silence, they walked out the new western gate, away from the river, towards the first fields. Thoko couldn¡¯t feel or smell anything, but she noticed the way Greg kept staring north, towards the river, and her skin crawled.


    She tried to pierce the dark herself, but couldn¡¯t spot anything. ¡°Something out there?¡± she finally asked.


    ¡°In the water,¡± Greg said quietly. ¡°Coming down the river. Should be fine. We¡¯re still under Laurent¡¯s aegis here.¡±


    ¡°So it won¡¯t be safe, once he leaves?¡± Yamikani asked.


    ¡°I think I¡¯d be changing shape now, if it was just me, out here with you,¡± Greg said. ¡°I do think I would be able to handle it. But I¡¯m not sad that I won¡¯t have to.¡±


    ¡°I was speaking about the future,¡± Yamikani said. ¡°If Thoko were to move here. She wouldn¡¯t be able to take an evening stroll on her own? Would she have to keep her children in sight at all times? Would it even be safe to have children out here? I suppose I don¡¯t understand why Mr. Levi wanted to settle down here, of all places. Surely, the battle fought here would buy them land in the heartlands? Around Deeshire, perhaps?¡±


    Thoko rolled her eyes. ¡°What would I want at Deeshire?¡±


    ¡°What do you want to do here?¡± Yamikani shot back. ¡°It sounded a lot better when you described it. There¡¯s nothing here, nothing!¡±


    She spread her arms. ¡°The river is still rotten, and the young man, Isaak, he said it himself that they don¡¯t have the resources to cleanse the land. Are you going to eat corn that was grown on Rot? Will your children? Or will they all be werewolves?¡±


    She shot Greg a glance.


    ¡°Is this really what you risked your life for?¡±


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Thoko said. She tried to look at it with her mother¡¯s eyes, but couldn¡¯t. To her, the land was beautiful. Perfect. Much better than Deeshire, one of the most conservative areas in the north, and worse, a centre of the Mithran Church on Loegrion. What opportunity was there for someone like her? None.


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared,¡± she said, because she had no idea how to win her mother over. If all the help of Isaak and Eyal and their family¡ªand Greg¡¯s family¡ªhadn¡¯t done it, what could she say?


    ¡°I know you aren¡¯t,¡± her mother sighed. ¡°I just sometimes wish you were.¡±


    ¡°What good would that do?¡± Thoko grumbled. ¡°What good has being scared ever done?¡±


    ¡°It keeps you alive, dear.¡±


    ¡°Greg has been keeping me alive just fine, mum.¡±


    She expected another biting remark regarding Morgulon and the cubs, but for once, her mother didn¡¯t bring up the issue of what she considered Greg¡¯s infidelity. Thoko would have been lying if she had claimed that it hadn¡¯t bothered her at all, but she had seen Greg with Morgulon, had watched them the past few months, and there was just nothing going on between them. Just a chance encounter. And she was glad, extremely glad, that Greg had that ability to resist many of the elder werewolves. It might have landed him with unexpected children, but it had also gotten him out of the mountains alive, not just once, but twice.


    Instead, Yamikani brought up another old argument: ¡°And how long will he be hanging around to protect you?¡±


    As if he would run off any moment. If he were that kind of person, he¡¯d have left her ages ago, not now that she finally had property to her name.


    ¡°Thoko doesn¡¯t need my protection,¡± Greg said, before she could come up with an answer. ¡°I¡¯m not going to be made a liar and promise that I¡¯ll never leave her, because I cannot choose where I go. Not while there¡¯s a war raging and David may need another ambassador to the werewolves in the mountains. But if I leave, it won¡¯t be because I wanted to go. And as long as Thoko stays here, she¡¯ll be safe. Either because of werewolves protecting the Camp, or thanks to the measures Eyal and his crew have taken. Given the foes we¡¯re facing, I cannot imagine a safer place than here. No army will simply march up to this camp. Deeshire, on the other hand? I wouldn¡¯t want to be stuck there should the Valoise manage to cross the White Torrent. Or land anywhere between King¡¯s Haven and Deggan.¡±


    Thoko saw her mother shudder. ¡°Do you think the Valoise will cross the river?¡±


    Greg stared up into the deep purple sky. Behind them, in the east, the gibbous moon was rising. Funny how that made her feel safer these days.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Greg finally said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen next.¡±


    ¡°Will you marry my daughter?¡±


    ¡°Mum,¡± Thoko groaned, but Greg wasn¡¯t thrown by the question.


    ¡°I would like to. I legally can¡¯t, since I¡¯m not really human. But there are werewolves here who appear to own their own land. So if marriage becomes an option, and if she¡¯ll have me, then yes, I do want to marry Thoko.¡±


    ¡°What about children? Would it even be safe for Thoko to bear werewolf children?¡±


    Thoko buried her face in her hands but there was no stopping Yamikani now. She had waited a year to ask these questions. Two years almost. And oh, her mother was looking forward to some grandchildren.


    ¡°Oh, they wouldn¡¯t be werewolves. Apparently, it depends on the mother. So if Thoko and I were to have children, they¡¯d be entirely human.¡±


    ¡°Is that something you know, or some fancy theory by the learned men at Deva University? I heard there haven¡¯t been werewolf children in a century?¡±


    ¡°Huh? Oh no, Morgulon was born a werewolf. And she¡¯s like, maybe forty? Probably younger. Somewhere between thirty-five and forty. I think her mother was born a werewolf, too. I know she mentioned her father was a human. But we¡¯re very certain about this theory, because Dale has a family. Three kids, two from after he was bitten, all of them human.¡±


    ¡°Dale. Is he here at the Camp?¡±


    Greg shook his head. ¡°He¡¯s our current ambassador to the wolves in the mountains.¡±


    ¡°And his family?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Some village west of Northwold. I don¡¯t remember the name.¡±


    Yamikani accepted that with a nod. ¡°You didn¡¯t say if you would want to have children,¡± she came back to her original point.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind a son or another daughter,¡± Greg said. ¡°I don¡¯t know if Thoko would like to be a mother though.¡± He glanced over at her. ¡°That¡¯s like the only thing we never really talked about.¡±


    ¡°And what about the two that you already have. Will you be raising them?¡±


    ¡°I hope I¡¯ll be allowed to.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    Greg ducked his head. ¡°Morgulon is an elder werewolf. If she doesn¡¯t want me to, I¡¯m not getting close to the girls. It¡¯ll be a decade before I¡¯ll be able to fight her on that. Right now she doesn¡¯t seem to mind, but if she decides to take them away¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know how the future will look like, Mrs. Banda. I do know that I¡¯d like to spend it with Thoko and my daughters.¡±


    ¡°And if you have to choose between one or the other?¡±


    ¡°Ancestors, mum, how is he supposed to answer that?¡±


    ¡°I suppose that would depend on the circumstances,¡± Greg said.


    Which was really no answer at all, but Thoko kept her mouth shut. She couldn¡¯t wait for this whole conversation to be over.


    At the same time, she was glad that Greg was here, and not just to keep the Rot away. At least this way her mother finally got to say all the things she would never voice while Imani was around.


    ¡°Duke Stuard gave Thoko¡¯s name to the Inquisition.¡±


    Greg tilted his head in that way werewolves used to prompt someone to elaborate. Thoko could tell it took him a second to remember that the gesture was meaningless to her mother.


    ¡°He did, yes,¡± Greg said after a second.


    ¡°And Isaak said your brother ensured the Wayfarers got their land?¡± Yamikani went on.


    ¡°No. No, David didn¡¯t need to push the duke to give the agreed upon reward to Eyal and his men. There¡¯s no way, at this point in the game, that Duke Stuard would risk being known as someone who doesn¡¯t keep his word.¡±


    ¡°So Isaak was just wrong about that?¡± Yamikani asked. ¡°Or why didn¡¯t your brother stop the duke from ratting my daughter out to the Inquisition?¡±


    ¡°Not entirely wrong.¡± Greg buried his hands in his pockets.


    ¡°So why didn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°How could David have known the Inquisition would come to call on the duke?¡± Greg asked back. ¡°Asides, he didn¡¯t have nearly as much influence back then.¡±


    ¡°What changed?¡±


    Greg sighed deeply. ¡°Everything, Mrs. Banda. Everything changed when Bishop Boyen was driven out of Eoforwic, and when Morgulon destroyed that human sacrifice on the solstice, and certainly after Oldstone Castle. There were a grand total of three werewolves working for the duke back when he handed Thoko over, if you don¡¯t include me. Today, David¡¯s got a literal army at his beck and call.


    ¡°He would have,¡± Greg went on. ¡°If he had known, David would have stepped in to protect Thoko. And he will, if the need should arise again and he¡¯s in a position to do so. So would anyone else in my family. Hells, so would Morgulon.¡±


    Yamikani mulled his words over. Before she said anything more, they reached the edge of the fields and also¡ªprobably not by coincidence¡ªthe limits of Laurent¡¯s aegis. It was nearly dark, too. Thoko gripped Greg¡¯s hand when the faint pressure around her temples started to set in, and the uncomfortable sensation went away again. Still.


    ¡°We should turn around,¡± Greg voiced what Thoko was thinking.


    ¡°Do we need to go straight back?¡± Yamikani asked.


    Greg stopped and stretched his neck, staring into the pitchblack forest ahead. Thoko could hear him sniff softly. ¡°There¡¯s nothing out here to see, is there?¡± he said finally. ¡°If you really want to circle the fields, I¡¯d ask you to turn around.¡±


    ¡°Whatever for?¡± Yamikani asked.


    ¡°His clothes don¡¯t transform with him, mum,¡± Thoko pointed out. She let go of his hand and demonstratively turned her back on him. Her mother slowly followed suit. Thoko could hear clothes rustle, and then felt a brief surge of second-hand excitement as he changed forms. She was getting better at sensing the magic, and Greg was only halfway through his transformation when she turned.


    Yamikani took a shocked step backwards. ¡°Morgulon is a lot more elegant,¡± she commented.


    ¡°Yes, well, she is an elder,¡± Thoko pointed out as she collected the boots and clothes Greg had dropped. She had to suppress the sudden urge to inhale the scent on his shirt. Instead, she wrapped his belt around the fabric and then tied the shoelaces together and connected both. Greg stood still as she balanced the boots to the right and left of his neck, with the clothes sitting on his back, just like during previous travels.


    She could feel her mother¡¯s eyes boring into her back. It made her fingers curl into the thick fur on Greg¡¯s shoulder. He turned to look at her, pawing the ground with one front paw, lowering the shoulder on her side.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Thoko said. ¡°I¡¯ll walk, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Greg gave a full-body shrug, and set out down the path that led south and around the fields. It was only a narrow dirt trail, clearly, people rarely ventured this far. In the presence of the giant wolf, there was no hint of the Rot, but Thoko could see that his hackles were slightly raised. It wasn¡¯t full fight-or-flight, and Thoko didn¡¯t think it was something he was aware of.


    But clearly, he smelled something in the dark.


    They walked in silence. Thoko let one hand rest on Greg¡¯s shoulder, for comfort and to easier find her way in the dark. Greg¡¯s eyes reflected the moonlight.


    ¡°Your uncle will be here tomorrow,¡± Yamikani said, just as Thoko began to wonder what else her mother had wanted to discuss. ¡°He will be here for the burial. Perhaps, you might want to speak to him. Both of you. I will be talking to him, too.¡±


    She glanced at Greg. ¡°If you are serious about marrying my daughter, that is.¡±

 Chapter 202

    ¡°Feeling brave, huh?¡± one of the guards at the Camp¡¯s southern gate asked as Greg walked in with Thoko and Yamikani. ¡°Seen anything out there?¡±


    Greg shook his head.


    ¡°Pretty sure he smelled something in the distance,¡± Thoko added.


    Greg walked her and Yamikani all the way to the roadhouse. To Greg¡¯s surprise, the proprietor waved him inside in a bored manner, even as a wolf. Even though the taproom was packed wall to wall.


    Another change.


    Another form of acceptance that would be unthinkable in Deva. How long would that take to change in the big city? How long until he could just¡ªbe himself, in whatever shape, and not be stared at?


    The guests of the roadhouse barely even glanced at him. In fact, he could tell who the new workers were at one glance because they were the only ones who looked up from their drinks at all.


    How long until Thoko and he could move here?


    Would Morgulon be willing to come? Perhaps she might take, what, territory? A bit of forest of her own, along the Savre? And his daughters could stay with him and Thoko right here, at the Savre camp? To grow up treated like people.


    Normal.


    Greg stopped at the middle of the room, glancing around at the crowd that paid him no mind, his heart beating painfully hard in his chest. Funny, how desperately he suddenly longed for something he hadn¡¯t even known he could have.


    ¡°Mr. Feleke? Sir? May I take you to your room?¡±


    It was a good thing wolves couldn¡¯t cry like humans did, or he might have embarrassed himself in front of the servant who approached him. He managed a nod, and the man led the way past the bar to the big set of stairs that had been rebuilt since the Rot-queens attack.


    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind the stairs,¡± the servant said. ¡°We¡¯re out of ground floor rooms, unfortunately.¡±


    Greg shrugged, a gesture which the man obviously recognized. He moved onwards, up the stairs¡ªwhich were awkward for a wolf, that much was true¡ªand then into the corridor, stopping at Greg¡¯s door. He opened it and added, ¡°Please don¡¯t hesitate to ring,¡± indicating a piece of string hanging from the ceiling next to the door.


    Greg ducked into his room, shuddering. He dropped the clothes onto the bed, and turned around to look¡ªthere was enough room for him to turn around easily, even in this form.


    It looked deliberate to him. The bed had been pushed all the way against the wall, and the rest of the furniture had been lined up next to it, creating two empty walls and a maximum of free space.


    Or was he getting overexcited? How many werewolf guests could they have here? Most of the ones staying in the camp would have their own land?


    Where was Laurent staying?


    Greg tried to locate him, but wasn¡¯t entirely certain. Below, probably. Not that that meant much. Half the camp seemed to be drinking below.


    He turned human and got dressed, then checked his money pouch. When he went below to see if Thoko and Yamikani would be there, too, there was a spring in his step.


    He felt lighter, now that Yamikani had given her approval, for him to marry Thoko¡ªeven if it was grudgingly, it was still a relief.


    Would it be possible for him to marry her officially? Even by Loegrian law? Mendel, Randal, Dicun and Harold each had gotten their bit of land, despite being werewolves now, hadn¡¯t they? And Duke Stuard had offered him his own silver mine¡ªthough Greg wasn¡¯t sure how serious that offer had been.


    He should have demanded the right of marriage right then and there, but even if he¡¯d been thinking that quickly, he still would have needed to ask Thoko if she even wanted him. Just because Yamikani was eager to see her daughter wed, didn¡¯t mean Thoko felt the same.


    Though Greg hoped she did. He¡¯d have gone to ask her straight away, but Yamikani would hardly appreciate it if he tried to visit Thoko in their room.


    He didn¡¯t spot her in the taproom, either, so he settled down at the bar and traded a piece of paper for a glass of beer. That, too, was so much easier here, where he didn¡¯t have to worry about revealing himself or whether or not the proprietor would take David¡¯s paper money.


    What could their wedding even look like? Where might it take place? Thoko would hardly agree to a church. Would her uncle do it, right here?


    Mabe Eyal could do it. He was the leader of this settlement, wasn¡¯t he? Surely, that would come with some kind of legal power similar to a magistrate?


    But he was getting ahead of himself. Imani would kill him if she didn¡¯t get to attend.


    Funeral first.


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    Thoko¡¯s extended family arrived with the three o¡¯clock train from Eoforwic. As Greg found out, some of them had started their journey early in the morning all the way at Breachpoint. There was more family than he had expected, too: Yamikani had mentioned her brother, but not that he was married and had five kids. Or that Thoko¡¯s father had a couple of sisters who each had their own children. Greg quickly started to lose track of who was who when Thoko started to introduce him to a bunch of cousins, and he was fully confused when it came to more distant aunts and uncles. There were a bunch of people from the expat community at Breachpoint, too, led by a pair of tiny, frail elders.


    And everyone had brought food.


    Thoko was both surprised and flustered to see the crowd of people who had come to be here to pay their last respects to her father, greeting people awkwardly and trying to whisper their names to Greg.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d all be here for us!¡± she whispered to Greg in shock as the growing crowd filled the plattform.


    Greg wondered how many of them were here because of the funeral of a well-respected healer, and how many of them were here to see the ¡°new¡± parts of Loegrion, but he didn¡¯t voice that thought. It wasn¡¯t like the two were mutually exclusive.


    The kids were staring at Oli and and the rest of the large pack of resident werewolves with a familiar mix of nerves and curiosity, while their parents were apparently unsure whether or not they could just march into the camp with the small army of people they had brought or if there was some etiquette to observe. Eyal showed up with Mr. Kohen to greet the whole group and welcome them into the camp. The large, outdoor space in front of the communal hall quickly became a gathering space, with people setting out the food.


    Greg felt rather out of place while Thoko went around greeting old friends, relatives and neighbours. She didn¡¯t tell them he was a werewolf, and he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if they would smile at him the same way if they knew. It was a relief when Isaac waved him over to one of the tables.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know there were so many people from Thoko¡¯s home country here in Loegrion,¡± Isaac commented. ¡°I mean, she mentioned that Breachpoint had a community, but this is a lot of people.¡± He grimaced, and added more softly: ¡°You know, for a man who¡¯s been dead for nearly two years.¡±


    ¡°I bet there are a lot of communities like this on Loegrion,¡± Greg said. ¡°If you¡¯re running from the Valoise, there aren¡¯t that many places you can easily go in the world. Thoko¡¯s father was a healer, and we all know how much the Valoise love it when a people has their own magic users.¡±


    Isaac muttered something under his breath which Greg was fairly certain was an insult to the Valoise.


    ¡°Do you know when the actual funeral will be?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would be right now?¡±


    When Greg looked up, Thoko and her mother were indeed leading their relatives towards the cemetery gates.


    ¡°It¡¯s not until dusk,¡± said a new voice. ¡°And what comes next is women¡¯s work.¡±


    Greg jumped when Thoko¡¯s uncle sat down at their table. He was¡ªwell, he reminded Greg a lot of Bram, actually. A similar age, the same weathered, dark skin, and short cropped hair. A firm handshake and a sincere smile.


    ¡°Best leave them to it,¡± he said, and held out a hand to Isaac. ¡°Limbani,¡± he introduced himself. ¡°Thoko¡¯s uncle. Heard a lot about you,¡± he added, when Isaac gave his own name. ¡°And you,¡± he turned back to Greg. ¡°You¡¯re the werewolf, right?¡±


    Greg swallowed hard, but nodded.


    Limbani smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone ever thanked you properly for keeping Thoko alive in the forest. And ever since. So thank you for that.¡±


    ¡°It was my pleasure,¡± Greg said. That at least he could say with complete honesty.


    ¡°My sister mentioned that,¡± Limbani said, grinning wider. ¡°Do you want to marry Thoko?¡±


    Greg opened his mouth, closed it again. ¡°I¡¯d like to ask her, too,¡± he said. ¡°But if she¡¯ll have me, then yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good answer,¡± Limbani said. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you need to worry. Thoko has been writing to me a lot, telling me about everything that¡¯s been going on. I don¡¯t think she¡¯d have stuck around if she weren¡¯t committed. And you do have my blessing,¡± he added. ¡°Not that you need it. I¡¯m not going to tell a daughter of Yamikani what to do with her life.¡±


    He chuckled to himself, as if that were a joke.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Greg said. Mostly because he couldn¡¯t think of anything better to say. ¡°Will you come to Deva,¡± he asked, remembering what Thoko had said about marriage, back after Oldstone Castle. ¡°I don¡¯t have any uncles on Loegrion. But my parents would be pleased to meet you.¡±


    ¡°I will happily accept that invitation,¡± Limbani said.


    ¡°What ah¡ªwhat happens now?¡± Greg asked, looking back towards the cemetery.


    Limbani leaned his head to the left, then the right. ¡°The women would wash the body, usually. Dress him and wrap him in the funeral cloth. Sing and talk and share stories. While the men, well, we do the same while we prepare the grave. Which I believe is already taken care of.¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m honestly not sure what exactly they will do. I¡¯ve never heard of a proper funeral on Loegrian ground, let alone two years after the death. That¡¯s part of the reason why so many of us are here,¡± he added. ¡°If you truly have a place for burials safe from the Rot, there will be others eager to lay their loved ones to rest in the ground.


    But let¡¯s have this one first. Come! Let¡¯s get you introduced properly. And let¡¯s have some food!¡±


    Before Greg knew what was happening, he was pulled out of his seat and along to meet Thoko¡¯s family¡ªat least the men. And not much later the women, too. There was great food that reminded Greg of some of his mother¡¯s favourites, and somebody told the joke Thoko had told him ages ago in the mountains, about why the dog couldn¡¯t dance¡ªwhich led to a whole barrage of similar ones, and a lot of tears. There was singing, and Mendel offered his lyre, and then the rest of the Wayfarers got dragged into the group as dinner was served.


    They hung back when the sun finally began to set, and Yamikani led the way back to the cemetery. Greg wanted to stick to the rear, too, but Thoko dragged him along, to where Laurent was standing over the open grave. Digger and his men had turned the crater the werewolves had produced into an actual grave shaped hole, with a wooden frame to stabilise the opening.


    Limbani lowered the body into the ground himself and sang the first song. Greg didn¡¯t understand the language, but the sentiment was clear enough. More songs followed, while the wood was removed and the grave closed in with loose dirt.


    Thoko finally cried, leaning against Greg¡¯s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, glad that he got to be here. Glad that he got to finish this part of the journey with her.


    There was only one brief moment, a whiff of something putrid, just as the sun disappeared behind the horizon completely, but it was gone before Greg was certain it was even real, not a figment of his imagination.


    And then it was over. The first burial of a healer on Leogrian soil since the Valoisian invasion, and the Rot hadn''t as much as dared to raise an ugly head.

 Chapter 203

    Greg and Thoko returned to Deva on the train that passed through the Savre Camp from Mannin. It took them all the way from the river side into the heart of the capital. Yet the train was mostly empty when it arrived¡ªquite unlike the carriages going in the other direction.


    It was a relief to be home, to be back with his family, his daughters, Morgulon¡¯s cubs. And an even bigger relief when Morgulon returned in time for David¡¯s big entrance. The elder was tired in that bone-deep weariness that she couldn¡¯t help but share with Greg. He thought even the babies were quieter than usual.


    But she was alive. And the Rot-queen that had been powerful enough to destroy a city was dead.


    We¡¯ll have to take the cubs into the forest soon, Morgulon said. The Red wants to meet them.


    After David is back, she added. That will be fun, too.


    ¡°Fun. Right.¡± Greg shuddered.


    ***


    The whole city was turning out to watch as ¡°Lord Relentless¡¯s Irregulars¡± returned to Deva. Greg stood in the middle of the crowd, hoping that Morgulon had managed to convey the plan the duke had hatched to Rust and Ragna. And that they had then passed it on to the man in the dirty leather clothes, riding in front of his small army.


    David looked like he was returning from a really bad hunt. One of those that lasted more than a month. Only his weapons were shiny and polished. His horse looked better kempt than him; it probably was. A beautiful stallion, pearly grey, that eyed the crowd with interest and didn¡¯t seem scared of what followed behind. Judging by the tackle, a stolen Valoisian cavalry horse.


    Behind David came the wolves. Each one nearly as big as the destrier, they came trotting up the street in rows of four, moving in step just like a formation of normal soldiers would. Not paying attention to the silent crowd that looked on with a mix of horror and awe.


    No two months ago, nine hundred werewolves had marched out of the city, carrying muskets and wearing the uniform of Loegrion. Today, a fraction came back, no longer even pretending at humanity. Though some of them still had their muskets tied to their body.


    And they brought the spoils of war.


    That hadn¡¯t been part of the plan Greg had asked Morgulon to relay, mostly because neither him nor the duke had thought that David might have captured so many valuables.


    After the first ten, maybe fifteen rows of wolves came a small herd of horses, too many of them to count quickly, flanked by more wolves on each side to keep them from running off. Each horse was a Valoisian war horse as fine as the one David was riding, each one laden with enough silver armour that Greg shuddered standing even in the dense crowd at the side of the road. And finally, there came the regimental flags they had captured, including the one  of Marshall Soto.


    That got a soft cheer out of the watching crowd.


    Greg didn¡¯t wait until the last of the werewolves went past him. Instead, he retreated through the crowd, and climbed onto the horse he had tied up at the corner of a sidestreet. While David and the rest of the small parade took the long way up the main road to the river, and then alongside the river to the palace, Greg took the direct way to get there. A stablehand took the horse off his hands, and Greg hurried onwards to Lane¡¯s office to get changed. He made it to the great hall just in time: as he took his place on the stage in front of the duke¡¯s chair¡ªsoon to be replaced by the new throne¡ªhe sensed Ragna and Rust enter the building.


    Not that he could sense them well, lying between Morgulon and Annabelle and her pack. At the duke¡¯s feet. Like dogs.


    Greg might have minded, except, well, Morgulon was playing along, too. The hall was quickly filling up with nobles, many of whom grumbled in annoyance that they hadn¡¯t been informed about the event. Not that this was, officially, an event. The duke totally hadn¡¯t known a week in advance and neither had Greg. Or Lane, for that matter.


    This absolutely wasn¡¯t staged. At all.


    Greg shifted around nervously, which made Morgulon grin at him, tongue lolling lazily out of her mouth.


    More werewolves trotted in, settling down on the stage. Pierre glared at Morgulon, while Malinda settled down right between them, slowly and with poise, commenting: This is going to be fun. I always wanted to be an actress growing up.


    Greg shook himself. He wished he were as relaxed as her. But at least having her sit right between Morgulon and Pierre eased some of the tension in the room.


    Finally, there was David, stepping into the great hall slowly, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He carried them both: The duelling sword the duke had gifted him back in Eoforwic, and the sabre the duke had given him right before he had left. The latter¡¯s sheath was tarnished, the coating flaking off in places, many of the symbols blackened out. Two pistols hung across his chest, and his crossbow was slung across his back.


    In his worn-out leather clothes, David looked more like a highway robber than an officer of Loegrion. Ready to take on a rich traveller¡¯s whole guard by himself.


    Dangerous.


    Then there was the strange sheen of silver that wrapped itself around David¡¯s shoulders like some kind of shawl. Outside, in the glaring sun, Greg hadn¡¯t even noticed it. What was that? Some kind of spell? It had to be magical, right? And powerful, too.


    And then, there were Ragna and Rust, in their giant wolf-shapes, following just a step behind him.


    They ignored Pierre¡¯s silent call to them, slinking around David as if they were trying to make him look even more menacing. Not quite growling, but their hackles were raised as they followed David down the length of the Great Hall. They were battle scarred, too.


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    Morgulon tilted her head quizzically, and then rose, silently pushing at the rest of the assembled pack to follow her lead. Greg tried to point out that the whole point was to not scare the onlookers, but she overrode his will with what Greg thought was amusement. Only Pierre didn¡¯t move.


    When she approached David, the silver sheen around his shoulders flared up and flew to the ground like a lightning bolt, turning into the spectre of yet another werewolf. Greg stopped dead in his tracks, so shocked that even Morgulon¡¯s will couldn¡¯t move him. Was that¡ªwasn¡¯t that Alvin? Was that a ghost? A real ghost?


    It was certainly a youth, not a fully grown werewolf, all gangly and scruffy around the neck. As Morgulon closed the distance, the appearance bolted forwards, right through Ragna¡¯s flank¡ªbut it crashed into Morgulon as if she were the only thing solid in the room.


    Show off, Pierre grumbled.


    But he, too, got up and trotted over to greet Alvin. Leaving the duke alone on his stage. Looking over his shoulder, Greg hoped he was the only one who noted the way Stuard was gripping the armrest with one hand.


    Way to set everyone at ease, Greg complained. But since they had ruined the image, he pushed his head underneath David¡¯s hand in greeting, waving his tail briefly.


    David smiled back thinly at him, patting his shoulder. Without a word, he passed between Morgulon and Pierre, stepping right through Alvin¡¯s ghost. He did reach out briefly to stroke the thin fur covering Morgulon¡¯s scars, before finally looking up to the duke.


    Greg didn¡¯t bother trying to feed him the lines he had laboured over with the duke. He just watched with growing horror as Ragna and Rust followed David up all the way to the bottom of the dais where the duke¡¯s chair stood.


    The watching nobles gasped in shock when David unsheathed his sword, but the splutter died abruptly when he kneeled, in front of the throne, raising the blade over his head.


    ¡°My liege,¡± David said, the words so soft Greg wasn¡¯t sure if the duke could even hear him. ¡°My liege,¡± David repeated, louder if clearly self-conscious about the whole act. Stuard had been right¡ªit did make the performance more convincing. Even if it weren¡¯t the words Greg would have whispered to him.


    David clearly had a speech of his own prepared.


    ¡°I did not dare hope to see you alive again,¡± David said, without actually looking at the duke. ¡°When news of the dastardly attack here reached us, I may have lost my patience with the enemy.¡±


    Someone chuckled in the audience, a brief second of levity which sombered quickly.


    ¡°The pisscoats put me in a cage,¡± David went on. ¡°And made me watch as they burned my men and women at the stake.¡±


    David¡¯s voice faltered, and silence enveloped the hall. If there was anyone who took offence to the his ¡°men and women¡± part, they were smart enough to keep it to themselves.


    ¡°I swore an oath then,¡± David said, still holding the sword above his head, keeping his face down. ¡°I swore revenge upon the enemy, no matter the cost. I swore to burn every field and spoil every well and butcher every animal and slit every Valoisian throat until the very land ran red with the blood. I swore I wouldn¡¯t care if their Lord Mithras in his Golden Armour took to the field himself, because I was going to raise all five frozen hells and summon every devil until the forests were swarming with the Rot. I swore to teach foe and friend alike the meaning of the name the werewolves gave me: Lord Relentless.


    I swore to hunt down the Prince Levant, and cut his throat, and feed his bones to the fishes, but his head, his head I was going to send to his father.¡±


    Dead silence hung over the hall when David paused to take a deep breath. Finally, he looked up. ¡°My liege, if you order it, I will break this oath.¡±


    Ragna¡¯s and Rust¡¯s eyes shimmered faintly golden in the gloom of the great hall. David just kneeled there, still like a statue. That sword had to be getting heavy, but he never took his gaze away from the duke. Never shook at all.


    Neither did the duke do anything. Greg wondered what went through his head right now. Was he trying to make the speech they had prepared fit the new situation?


    They really should have expected David to have a piece of his own to say.


    Finally, Stuard moved. He pushed himself out of the chair and slowly, gingerly, stepped down until he stood right in front of David. Taking the sabre out of his hands. Balancing the flat blade, if a little awkwardly, in front of his own chest.


    ¡°My father had this made,¡± the duke said, speaking to the room at large. ¡°It was he who instilled the dream of a free Loegrion in me. And yet I don¡¯t think even he ever dared hope that this would one day cut the neck of an Imperial Marshall.¡±


    He let the sabre catch the light. ¡°I did not give this to you to take it out of your hands again.¡±


    Slowly, he gripped the handle and lowered the blade to his side, until the tip rested on the stones and he didn¡¯t have to hold it any longer. ¡°So tell me, Lord Feleke. Since we are speaking of oaths. What allegiance will you offer me?¡±


    Greg shuddered. Now that was optimistic of the duke. Sure, David had had a bit of a fascination with chivalry as a boy¡ªhence his fascination with jousting¡ªbut to ask him to come up with an oath of fealty on the spot?


    He swore there was a smile on his brother¡¯s face when David ducked his head again. He took a deep breath, but apparently he had been ready for this, because he didn¡¯t hesitate.


    ¡°I am but a servant of Loegrion,¡± David said slowly, each word measured. ¡°And I offer her and her rightful ruler the loyalty of me and mine, to serve in valour and fealty. I swear to cleanse her from the foul occupation of both the Rot and those who first seeded it, and to protect the crown from all who would tarnish it. I swear to protect the weak and defenceless, in whatever shape they may appear before me, and to stand against evil in whatever form it may take.¡±


    The duke grinned then, wide and unapologetic. ¡°I will hold you to that,¡± he said, hefting the sword again. He swung the tip of the sword up, angling it. From where Greg sat it was obvious that he struggled to do it slowly, to keep control of the long blade and tap it gently onto David¡¯s right shoulder with the flat side.


    ¡°I thus name you Sir Relentless,¡± Duke Stuard said.


    For the rest of the hall, the gesture itself was all that mattered. People craned their necks, muttering and some of them cheering. But to the werewolves, the words were what counted. The actual oath.


    Pierre frowned, but from Morgulon, there was a deep sense of satisfaction as the duke let the blade rest on David¡¯s shoulder for a heartbeat before raising it over his head, and gently bringing it down onto David¡¯s left shoulder.


    ¡°I chose you as my first advisor, Sir Relentless,¡± the Duke spoke over the people in the hall, ¡°I chose you to lead the werewolves, and now as the first of my vassals, because I know what your word is worth. So keep your oath! Keep them all!¡±


    He put the sword down again, resting the hilt against his hip, and held out a hand. ¡°And let this be my vow to you,¡± he said, gripping David¡¯s. ¡°I will never ask you to walk back on a given promise for me. I will never ask you to choose between loyalty to me, and those who are rightfully¡ªand righteously¡ªyours. I offer you my loyalty as you offer yours.¡±


    He pulled. It was more David rising on his own than he duke helping him up, but he did stand before Stuard, face carefully guarded once more. For a moment, Greg thought Stuard would try to hug David in front of the gathered nobility, but then he shuffled backwards, bringing up the sword he was still holding onto.


    ¡°Bring me the head of the Levant,¡± he said, and offered it back to David, ¡°and I will crown you a duke.¡±

 Chapter 204

    ¡°Bring me the head of the Levant and I will crown you a duke.¡±


    The words echoed in the silence of the great hall. It was a promise and a threat and judgement rolled in one¡ªthere would be no quick end to the war, no suing for peace while they were ahead. No punishment for what David had unleashed on the south of Loegrion.


    Duke George Louis wanted to take it all the way.


    Greg watched the nobles, curious how they would react. Nobody cheered, but at least Count deVale in the first row was smiling. The young Marquess Rover looked a little bit jealous, Greg thought. Lady Ariana was pale, but there was approval on her face.


    The werewolves didn''t care about any of that.


    How do we become rightfully and righteously his? Malinda wondered. Do we have to fight for him?


    I bet it won¡¯t hurt, another voice said. Greg couldn¡¯t see who it was.


    All the werewolves will be his, Pierre said dismissively. Who else wants to deal with us? The question is whether we will all have to stay at his household.


    The old man couldn¡¯t quite hide his relief, though.


    He better get some lands then, Monroe commented drily. There''s nowhere near enough space for us all in Deva.


    The idle chatter ended abruptly when Lane stepped out of the crowd of nobles, hands clutched in front of her chest. Smiling, but with an uncertainty¡ªas if she couldn''t quite believe her eyes.


    It was a good thing she was a much better actress than David.


    He grinned back at her, wide and a little ironic, and sheathed the sabre so he could hold out his hands to her. She promptly threw herself forward, into his arms, to hug him tightly. When they kissed¡ªjust a brief, chaste thing, nothing like after Oldstone Castle¡ªa soft sigh went through the room. Greg thought he was the only one who noticed the way the duke¡¯s grip tightened around his armrests, until Monroe commented:


    Ah, the sweet smell of jealousy.


    Morgulon sniggered soundlessly, and R¨¦my added: You know, I get it. I never thought I¡¯d say this about the Relentless, but I wouldn¡¯t mind taking a bite out of him, either. Hells, just look at that backside.


    You know he hears you, right?, Pierre asked.


    Hey, I wasn¡¯t saying anything untrue!


    If David did hear them, he was doing a great job at ignoring them. Greg wished he could overhear the peanut gallery, too.


    And he thought Bishop Larssen felt the same.


    The thought made Greg giggle, the kind of nervous sound that had nothing to do with actual amusement. It came out as a soft pant, luckily, that the humans would never be able to interpret.


    When David and Lane separated, Alvin¡¯s shade flew together, turning back into the pale sheen around David¡¯s shoulders. Like a cloak of magic.


    ¡°By your leave, Your Highness,¡± David said, stiffly. ¡°The wolves are tired. And so am I.¡±


    ¡°By all means,¡± George Louis said. ¡°Your family will be eager to see you, I''m sure. You will join the war council tonight, though?¡±


    ¡°I will be there, Your Highness,¡± David said, bowing deeply. Then he left again, Lane at his side, flanked by Rust and Ragna, leaving the nobles behind to whisper urgently about what had just happened.


    ***


    David twitched when Lane reached for his hand. It was hard not pulling it away. He felt dirty¡ªtoo dirty to be touched by her. Or anyone, really. The opulence of the palace all around only heightened the sense.


    What was he, other than a trapped beast?


    Out in the wilderness, sleeping in trees, living off the land, bathing in rivers, surrounded by giant wolves, out there it was so easy to close his eyes against the horrors he had unleashed on the land. The blood he had spilled. So easy to tell himself that he wasn¡¯t just doing the right thing, but the only thing he could possibly do.


    It was a lot harder to convince himself that there wasn¡¯t a better way when he was surrounded by the city and the marvels of civilization. A lot harder to pretend that the soldiers he had killed weren¡¯t people like the masses swarming around him.


    And he would do worse, still. If George Louis was serious about defeating the Valoise.


    If Lane, or Greg, or deVale¡ªor the duke himself¡ªdidn¡¯t have a better idea.


    Guards and nobles and servants stared at David as he made his way through the palace, their faces filled with wonder and disgust and awe and terror. It made him want to wrap his arms around himself and curl up to hide somewhere, curl up and never come out again. Or at least to take a day and mourn the simple life of an unimportant baron he had just forsworn.


    There was no going back now. He was going to be playing court politics till the day that he died.


    For Loegrion. For Greg and his daughters, for Rust, and Ragna. To ensure that Lenny¡¯s and Lea¡¯s and all the other werewolves¡¯ sacrifices wouldn¡¯t be in vain.


    Well. There was still a good chance he wouldn¡¯t live to the end of the war in any case.


    The sounds of quick boots behind them interrupted David¡¯s dark musings. ¡°Major Feleke,¡± someone called. When David turned around, it was deVale.


    ¡°General deVale,¡± David replied, but couldn¡¯t bring himself to free his hand to actually salute.


    ¡°Do you have accommodations for your troops in mind?¡± deVale asked. ¡°Are they all settled?¡±


    ¡°Not even close,¡± David said.


    ¡°Fort Brunich then?¡± DeVale said. ¡°I can organise to have them taken there now, and we can discuss a better solution tonight.¡±


    Sounds like a plan, Ragna said. We¡¯ll go with them, tell everyone what happened.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± David asked. ¡°Brunich isn¡¯t exactly a palace.¡±


    It¡¯ll be fine for a night or two. Asides, any roof above my head is an improvement.


    It was hard to argue with that. And if he was perfectly honest, David wasn¡¯t all that eager to deal with the logistics and palace bureaucracy to get the werewolves settled into the city straight away.


    ¡°Thank you, general,¡± he added, looking at deVale.


    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble,¡± deVale claimed. ¡°Get some rest. Milady,¡± he added, sketching a bow, before walking off.


    See you later, Ragna said, before slinking after him.


    Rest seemed unlikely. But perhaps a bath. Some decent food.


    David held the door to Antonio¡¯s carriage open for Lane, then climbed in himself, and dragged the curtains shut before falling back into the cushions. He didn¡¯t even want to think about what he smelled like. He had done his best to clean up before coming into the city, but the knees and elbows of his leather clothes were permanently discoloured from the mud and blood he had crawled through¡ªnot to speak of the boots. He didn¡¯t remember when he¡¯d last had a change of socks. Or a clean shirt. Or underwear.


    ¡°David?¡± Lane asked.


    David jerked at her voice. She¡¯d been talking to him, hadn¡¯t she?


    ¡°I was asking how you¡¯re doing,¡± she said.


    David looked at her blankly. He had no idea what to tell her.


    Except. If there was anyone in the world who¡¯d understand, it was Lane, wasn¡¯t it?


    ¡°It¡¯s like the biggest hunt I¡¯ve ever been on,¡± he finally said. ¡°A thousand near-misses and a thousand dead comrades, and I shouldn¡¯t be taking a break but I¡¯ve got to resupply.¡±


    ¡°So you aren¡¯t staying,¡± Lane said.


    ¡°Not unless you know a way to beat the Valoise from here.¡±


    Lane nodded. They didn¡¯t speak until they arrived at the house. There were people lining the street, to watch as David got out of the carriage. Staring silently.


    He would have preferred to get yelled at. He even would have taken the rotten fruit the crowd used to throw at Greg over the way the people lined the street now. At least then he would have known how they felt. The stares were just creepy.


    A servant opened the front door. Before David had fully made it over the threshold, Imani threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. Nathan piled in, too. Thoko smiled at him from the stairway.


    ¡°Where¡¯s everyone else?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you meet them at the palace?¡± Imani asked. ¡°I thought Greg was going to¡­¡±


    Feed him some lines, right.


    ¡°Greg I saw,¡± David said.


    ¡°And did everything work out?¡± Imani asked. She looked up at him, her smile lined with worry. It made her look even more frail than she already was in his arms.


    ¡°Duke Stuard knighted him,¡± Lane said, before David could come up with an answer. ¡°I think it¡¯s best if we discuss the rest behind closed doors. Maybe I can fill you in while David gets changed?¡±


    He nodded, grateful for the suggestion.


    ¡°Changed and cleaned,¡± Nathan added helpfully, sniffing.


    David didn¡¯t have a clever comeback, so he just rolled his eyes, stepping into the hall fully. A manservant followed him upstairs¡ªLesley, someone he recognised. He recognized the way the man was staring at him, too.


    ¡°Will you¡ªah, will you need those leathers cleaned, Sir?¡± Lesley asked, as soon as they were in the bath alone.


    David laughed, to the servant¡¯s visible relief. ¡°Feel free to burn them,¡± he said.


    ¡°And you will be needing a change for¡­?¡±


    ¡°The palace,¡± David said, getting out of said leather clothes, tossing them on the ground. He climbed into the tub of scalding hot water slowly, leaning his head back against the wall. Lesley knew him well enough to not stand in a corner and wait. He left with the dirty clothes held at arm¡¯s length while David closed his eyes.


    It was really, really hard to push the memories of the past month back, to not allow his thoughts to drift back to all the fights, all the dead¡ªenemies and werewolves alike.


    If he listened hard, he could hear one of Greg¡¯s little girls wail downstairs. He tried to focus on that, on Imani¡¯s voice singing and cooing to calm her, on the yapping and barking of the boy-cubs in the garden. Playing in the sun. In safety.


    This was what he had fought for. What he had damned and killed thousands for.


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    He could barely stand it now.


    He knew this feeling. He had been here before. After every failed hunt¡ªand sometimes even after successful ones¡ªhe found himself in this state of mind, often this very bathtub, painfully aware of how fragile this safety was. Desperate to get back into the saddle, to go out again, to do more.


    And at the same time, horrified at himself and the knowledge that the only thing he could do¡ªcould imagine himself doing¡ªwas to kill more.


    He rubbed his hands against each other. No blood was visible there¡ªhe wasn¡¯t a total barbarian. He¡¯d rinsed it all off before coming into the city. Had tried to clean up before showing up at the palace, as much as that was possible if all you had was a stream and no soap.


    He could still see it, though. Still smell the iron. Still feel it sticking to his palms.


    Some things water couldn¡¯t clean.


    Maybe Lane would teach him how to stick his hands into a brazier.


    At some point, David must have dozed off after all. He awoke with a start when Yamikani started undoing what remained of his braids, clicking her tongue disapprovingly.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± David muttered. ¡°I can just hack it all off.¡±


    The long hair was the one luxury he allowed himself, but it felt frivolous considering they were at war. He could always do what Greg and Andrew did and just shear it short.


    When he reached up to feel at how bad it was, Yamikani gently slapped his fingers. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± she said. ¡°I can fix this.¡±


    ¡°I will have to go out into the field again soon,¡± David pointed out.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll fix it again,¡± Yamikani said. ¡°Go back to sleep and let me do what I¡¯m good at.¡±


    As if it were that easy, while she tugged at his hair. Still, he understood the sentiment. So he closed his eyes while she muttered behind him in her native language¡ªprobably swearing.


    ***


    The war council was held at George Louis¡¯s private office in the palace. By the time David arrived with Lane, Greg and Morgulon at his side, the room was packed¡ªmainly with werewolves. Annabelle lay in front of the fireplace, two she-wolves by her sides, in between a pack of George Louis¡¯s hunting dogs. Rust and Ragna had settled down along the opposing wall, closer to the big roundtable where DeVale and Commander Bacrot were already sitting bent over papers.


    David was even more surprised to see George Louis sitting in one of the plush armchairs next to the fireplace, right amongst the giant wolves¡ªif a little stiffly. Bishop Larsson had taken the other chair, looking perfectly at ease.


    The bishop was the only one who didn¡¯t look up to stare at David when he entered.


    Most of all stared George Louis.


    Someone cleans up nicely, Annabelle commented helpfully. That explains a lot, actually.


    ¡°Thanks, Annabelle,¡± David sighed.


    Ragna and Rust sniggered. When David glared at them, Larsson asked: ¡°Would you rather they fear you once more?¡±


    He sounded genuinely curious.


    Which made David realise. ¡°You hear them, too?¡±


    ¡°I rather think I only do when they want me to,¡± Larsson said. ¡°But yes. I do hear them. Sometimes.¡±


    He looked at Morgulon, who flicked her ears and didn¡¯t look back at him. Before David could ask, George Louis heaved himself out of his chair.


    ¡°Now that we are all here, why don¡¯t we get started,¡± he said. Then had to grab the backrest of his chair for balance.


    It was scary to see him like this, pale, his cheeks sunken, his hands and legs still slightly swollen. Barely strong enough to stand on his own.


    George Louis ducked his head, looking down at his feet as he made his way past David to the table. David couldn¡¯t tell if he was feeling self-conscious about his appearance, or if he really needed that much concentration just to make his way safely to the table.


    The roundtable that had replaced the old, rectangular one.


    What a nice symbol.


    Everyone seemed to agree that David should take the seat to the right of the duke, and Lane the one to David¡¯s right, and everyone else just fell into place. It was probably just coincidence that it put Greg almost directly across from Geoge Louis.


    ¡°General deVale,¡± George Louis started. ¡°If you would bring us all up to speed to the situation.¡±


    DeVale nodded importantly, shuffling some of his papers. ¡°According to the reports I received from our werewolf captains and our human intelligence, the Valoise have suffered a major setback at Mirtbrook. They have lost a Marshall and most of their cavalry during the battle, and while the loss of the true elder whose sacrifice made this possible hurts us likewise, I dare say we came out ahead there.¡±


    Someone has taken to the new vocabulary quickly, Annabelle commented. Just as Commander Bacrot asked: ¡°True elder meaning what here?¡±


    ¡°A werewolf powerful enough to transform on new moon and fight a Rot-queen on equal footing,¡± deVale said promptly.


    ¡°Someone I knew?¡± George Louis asked.


    ¡°No, Your Highness,¡± David said. ¡°She came with the Red from the plains to reinforce our troops.¡±


    We¡¯ll really miss her once the war is over and the clean up starts, Rust added. Greg whispered the words for Lane and deVale.


    Before David could relay that to George Louis, too, deVale went on: ¡°The enemy has responded to the loss by moving towards the east. Most likely they¡¯ll retreat all the way to the coast and use the ocean¡¯s protection against the Rot to guard their flank. They may try to reinforce at Port Neaf.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that,¡± Bishop Larssen said. ¡°It would be very unlike a Levant to backtrack that far. If at all possible, they¡¯ll try to take more cities. They may yet threaten Deggan.¡±


    ¡°Could they take the city?¡± George Louis asked.


    David shrugged. ¡°They have at least fifty thousand men. Probably more. If they want the city, I don¡¯t see how we would stop them. Soto was kind enough to give us a fight in our favour, and even then we barely beat them.¡±


    If Lea hadn¡¯t been hit¡ªif she hadn¡¯t burned all her magic at once¡ªwould they have won that battle?


    ¡°How many soldiers can we field?¡± George Louis asked.


    DeVale shrugged. ¡°Some forty thousand, probably. But most of them barely ever held a musket. It would be a slaughter if we try to engage the Valoise in battle before they reach Deggan. If it were a different city¡ªbut Deggan is hardly well-fortified. Even with the walls and the werewolves, I wouldn¡¯t like our odds. Not unless we sacrifice a dozen more elders.¡±


    ¡°Which would completely cripple our ability to beat back the Rot later,¡± David said, before anyone could really think about that idea.


    ¡°What other options do we have?¡± George Louis asked. ¡°If we let them take Deggan, they¡¯ll reinforce and come sailing right here to Deva with even more troops.¡±


    The duke looked at David, and so did everyone else. Expecting a plan. A solution.


    And the worst part was, he did have one.


    ¡°Morgulon,¡± he said aloud. ¡°How do we create a Rot-queen?¡±


    You should really ask Pierre that, she said. He¡¯s the priest.


    ¡°Yes, and you¡¯re the Morgulon,¡± David said, while Greg once again translated for Lane and deVale. ¡°Let¡¯s say we use the White Torrent. Does it have to happen at the source of the river? Does any bit of water work? Could we use the Lessing?¡±


    Maybe, Morgulon said. If you spill enough magic.


    ¡°What the hells are you talking about?¡± George Louis asked.


    ¡°And how do I do that,¡± David asked. ¡°How do I spill enough magic to create a Rot-queen.¡±


    Morgulon rested her head on her paws, turning away from him. You know how. Destroy an army. Let the blood soak the ground until the magic finds a new vessel.


    ¡°What if I have a vessel. A living source of magic.¡±


    And which one of us would you use? Morgulon asked back, not looking at him. Which loyal soldier will you sacrifice? Rust? Ragna? Or perhaps your own brother?


    David took a deep breath. He didn¡¯t look to see Greg¡¯s reaction. He didn¡¯t want to know. ¡°I was actually thinking of Picot,¡± he said instead.


    Morgulon¡¯s ears snapped forward and she raised her head, staring at him from golden eyes for a second or two, then turning away again. A shudder ran down her whole body. All the other werewolves in the room had their hackles raised, mirroring Morgulon¡¯s disgust at the idea. Only Annabelle muttered, Lord Relentless.


    Morgulon¡¯s tail swished over the ground restlessly, then she stilled entirely. Not just physically. The spot in the back of his head where David sensed the elders was suddenly¡ªquiet. As if she had left the room. Drawing all her magic inwards. Hiding herself, like she had used to hide herself from hunters like him.


    And then she was back¡ªlaughing. A bitter, unhappy sensation. She tilted her head at him. You know, I really forgot who you are for a bit, she said finally. Lord Relentless indeed.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that why you wanted me?¡± David asked.


    She shrugged, her tail brushing the carpet once more. The traitor has only seen one full moon, Morgulon said, answering his original question. Perhaps a second one by the time you reach a river¡¯s source. Even if you can corrupt him somehow, he wouldn¡¯t make much of a queen.


    ¡°That seems like a perk to me,¡± Larssen spoke up. ¡°If you have a living source of magic, why even use a river?¡±


    Morgulon stood, stretching her front legs like a dog as she did. You need to find the magic to corrupt, and another source to be corrupted, she said, pacing the room. If you have the vessel¡­ But where do you find enough magic to corrupt Picot ?


    ¡°So you can¡¯t do it?¡± David asked. ¡°If we tie Picot down, and you unleash everything you have¡­¡±


    Morgulon stopped to glare at him. Have you ever smelled the Rot when I use magic?


    She walked onwards, circling the table. Her thoughts were dripping with disgust as she went on: Pierre might be able to do it. He uses magic as humans do. Or if the bishop wants to help, we might be able to work together.


    ¡°I cannot be involved in this,¡± Larssen said at once. ¡°I could not call myself a man of Mithras ever again if I helped raise¡ªone of those creatures.¡±


    How convenient for him. ¡°I suppose someone has to save us poor sinners,¡± David said drily.


    ¡°What are you even talking about?¡± George Louis asked again. ¡°How would a Rot-queen possibly help us?¡±


    ¡°We evacuate Deggan,¡± David said. ¡°We let the Valoise move in. We let them collect all their troops on their boats and let them move those boats up the White Torrent. We drive a Rot-queen at them, and then we sort out the survivors. If there are any.¡±


    ¡°If not, we deal with the Rot,¡± George Louis said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± David said. ¡°But we know how to deal with that.¡±


    ¡°Do we have enough elders to do that?¡± Bacrot asked. ¡°¡®True elders¡¯, I mean.¡±


    If it¡¯s only one queen, any three of us can do it, Rust said. Morgulon might be able to do it alone.


    Morgulon shook her head. The Red can do it alone. I wouldn¡¯t want to try.


    ¡°Do you think it would work?¡± David asked her. ¡°Could we use a queen¡ªpossibly drive it against the pisscoats¡ªand then destroy it?¡±


    Morgulon sighed deeply. But she did say: Yes. Yes, we could do it. If we have enough elders to herd it, that is. Not Rust. Noone younger than Ragna.


    ¡°So you, Ragna, Laurent, Fox, the triplets, Monroe and Malinda¡­How many do you need?¡±


    Ragna, Laurent, Fox and I, Morgulon said.


    Which hadn¡¯t been the question, but it was good to know that four would be enough. And it was interesting to see that Morgulon preferred to take younger werewolves she knew over taking Monroe and Malinda who were older.


    ¡°So the question remains how we can create a Rot-queen in the first place,¡± David said. He drummed his fingers on the table. ¡°What if we have the other traitors bitten, too? They¡¯ll be even younger than Picot, but as long as they¡¯ve gone through the first full moon, they¡¯d still be sources of magic, right? Kill two of them, corrupt the third one?¡±


    Morgulon shuddered again. They would be sources of magic, yes. Weak ones.


    ¡°Is there really no other way?¡± Larssen asked.


    David looked around the table, meeting blank faces. ¡°I¡¯m open to suggestions.¡±


    Nobody moved. Nobody spoke up. Nobody protested, either. Lane had her hands clenched around the table, not looking at him, but she didn¡¯t say anything to stop him. No encouragement, either.


    Just a table full of people trying to pretend they weren¡¯t hearing this.


    David took a deep breath, but he pushed ahead. He couldn¡¯t give himself time to chicken out, or he surely would. ¡°We¡¯d have two werewolves to sacrifice, each one full moon old,¡± he said. ¡°Do you think we¡¯d even need the river, Morgulon?¡±


    Morgulon swallowed hard. She clearly didn¡¯t want to answer his questions, either. But for once, she wasn¡¯t giving him cryptic hints or avoiding to speak altogether.


    I don¡¯t think two werewolves that young would be enough to make a Rot-queen. And if we do this, we should be certain it works, she said. So I would use the river as an additional source of magic.


    David nodded. ¡°So unless anyone else has a better plan, Ragna, Laurent, Fox, Morgulon and I head out to the source of the White Torrent after full moon, with the traitors.¡±


    He looked around the table again, and the werewolves not on the table, too. Rust and Ragna met his gaze calmly. Most of the others still pretended they weren¡¯t there at all.


    ¡°Rust, you¡¯ll be in charge of the werewolves staying here,¡± David said. ¡°Just keep them out of trouble.¡±


    You got it, Sir.


    ¡°How do we sell this to the public?¡± Lane finally broke her silence.


    ¡°Do we have to tell the people at all?¡± deVale asked. ¡°We¡¯ll evacuate Deggan, that¡¯s going to be a disaster already. If a Rot-queen happens to attack the Valoisian fleet on the river¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll need some kind of explanation why Lord Relentless isn¡¯t leading the defence, though,¡± Commander Bacrot pointed out. ¡°Though I¡¯m not sure why you would need to go with the werewolves.¡±


    ¡°I believe the words you¡¯re looking for are Chain of Command,¡± deVale said, before David could speak. ¡°If we¡¯re to gamble the future of Loegrion on this feat, I would rather prefer him to lead the endeavour. Moreover, it¡¯s entirely possible one or more of the intended sacrifices will turn mad before it¡¯s over, in which case a human might be needed to handle the silver chains.¡±


    David had to admit he hadn¡¯t even considered that last part. It was his plan. His mad idea. Of course he had to be there.


    You¡¯ll have to do it in any case, Morgulon said. Or any human. No werewolf could do this without the risk of corrupting ourselves.


    ¡°But is it even possible for a human to survive this?¡± George Louis asked. ¡°Driving a Rot-queen down the river?¡±


    ¡°Alvin¡¯s ghost has protected me from the Rot so far,¡± David said. ¡°And he¡¯s most certainly no living source of magic, so he shouldn¡¯t be corruptible by a Rot-queen.¡±


    He half expected the duke to argue about this, but George Louis fell back in his chair, nodding. ¡°We¡¯ll tell the people that Lord Relentless is on a secret mission to hamper the enemy¡¯s efforts,¡± he said softly. ¡°They don¡¯t need to know more than that, and we have to assume the Valoise still have spies here in the city.¡±


    He took a deep breath. ¡°Lady deLande, will you take over the evacuation of Deggan? And parts of the press, too.¡±


    ¡°I will do my best,¡± Lane promised.


    And just like that, everyone fell in line with the plan.

 Chapter 205

    David and Lane left together, holding hands. George Louis knew it was just for show, yet he found himself staring at the door long after it had closed behind them, trying not to hate Lane for getting to walk with David like that.


    Behind him, there was a huff of displaced air, then Annabelle said, in that new strange, chopped off way of speaking: ¡°Lord Relentless. Quite handsome.¡±


    George Louis smiled wryly at the understatement. As if she¡¯d just noticed today.


    ¡°Quite mad,¡± Annabelle added.


    George Louis didn¡¯t turn around to look at her. Tried not to picture her naked appearance. Which wasn¡¯t hard, after seeing David in his finest just now.


    ¡°Do you think this plan is feasible?¡± he asked his still-wife.


    Annabelle was quiet for a long time.


    George Louis stared straight ahead, heart beating too fast. Did he want her to say yes? Or grasping for an excuse to stop David from risking his life like this? He wasn''t sure himself.


    ¡°Magically?¡± She finally said. ¡°Don¡¯t know. But. Two lords. No sentence? Bad precedent.¡±


    George Louis nodded to show he had heard. He shouldn''t have expected her to have a solution for his dilemma.


    David no doubt hadn¡¯t even considered the legal and political ramifications. He¡¯d just seen a problem and drawn a straight line towards a solution¡ªeverything else be damned. It was impressive in its own way. And terrifying.


    ¡°You. Are not. Stopping him?¡± Annabelle asked.


    George Louis shrugged, still staring at the door, not really seeing it anyway. He should, shouldn¡¯t he? He had only been privy to half the conversation, but it had sounded a lot like David was planning to turn the whole White Torrent to Rot to stop the Valoise. And then herd the Rot-queen towards Deggan. Which meant they¡¯d have to get it right through Deva somehow.


    He wondered if David had considered that problem. Or if he even considered that to be a problem.


    Was it arrogance driving David? Desperation? Was he hoping to die along the way, or did he really trust in a dead boy¡¯s ghost to protect him from a Rot-queen?


    Did it matter?


    ¡°Do you have any suggestion how else we can beat the Valoise and the reinforcements they might receive?¡± George Louis asked.


    ¡°Tell them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± The suggestion surprised George Louis so much, he turned around to see if Annabelle was being facetious with him.


    But no. She looked quite serious, arms crossed over her chest, staring down at her naked feet.


    ¡°Morgulon. Invisible,¡± she said. ¡°Can sneak around. Even if. The enemy. Is warned.¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°So. Warn Valoise. Tell them, leave. Leave. Or face a Rot-queen.¡±


    Would that work?


    George Louis glanced back at the table. Thinking of the numbers, of the distances. The pisscoats were going to resupply, at Deggan or Port Neaf.


    And most importantly¡ªhad anyone in that army ever seen a Rot-queen? Did the Valoise even know what it was? Who in Loegrion did know what a Rot-queen could do, asides from the dozen or two survivors from the Savre-camp attack?


    That battle alone would probably make Annabelle¡¯s idea unfeasible. For if¡ªwhat, a couple of hundred?¡ªnavvies could survive two Rot-queens for nearly a day¡ªlong enough for a pack of werewolves to come to their aid¡ªsurely, the Valoisian army would think they could beat one?


    And worse¡ª


    ¡±If it doesn¡¯t make them retreat, they might change course,¡± George Louis said. ¡°The further David has to drive that queen, the more destruction will be wrought. If they sail up the river, at least we¡¯ll know exactly where the pisscoats are.¡±


    He sighed and walked back to the fireplace, to settle down in the armchair there. He was feeling better, but far from great. Standing was still tiring.


    He couldn¡¯t think of a better way.


    He didn¡¯t want it. He didn¡¯t want David to do it, either. Didn¡¯t want to send him out again to what sounded like certain death.


    But certain death wouldn¡¯t stop David. And the she-wolf seemed to think it wasn¡¯t entirely impossible. Was even willing to go along with it.


    George Louis grabbed his own wrists to stop himself from scratching, staring into the flames.


    Maybe it was pettiness. The lingering anger over what Picot had done to him. Maybe it was the new pain in his joints, the dizziness in his head, the swollen legs, the itchiness of his skin, the fatigue that wouldn¡¯t go away¡­He wanted to see the pisscoats suffer. He wanted the Roi Solei to never see his son again, as he himself almost had never seen Georgie again.


    Maybe he just didn¡¯t want to be turned down¡ªwhich he knew would happen if he tried to stop David without offering a better plan.


    He wanted the Valoise destroyed whole-sale. And if David thought he could do it¡ª


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to stop him,¡± George Louis said softly. ¡°But we should better have a trial for the traitors. I believe Lady deLande has all the evidence we need. And we¡¯ll let Lord Mire preside over it.¡±


    ¡°Preside. Or accuse.¡±


    ¡°Either should work,¡± George Louis said softly. ¡°As long as they get sentenced to death.¡±


    ¡°That. Should be easy.¡±


    ¡°Quite true.¡±


    Just a formality. But one that they still needed to take care of. And quickly. Full moon wasn¡¯t far away.


    ***


    Greg shuddered when the coach slowed down on the road to the Imperial Court and he saw the masses gathered outside. It was an angry crowd, chanting: ¡°death to the traitors, death to the traitors!¡± Mainly, Greg thought it was working class men and women gathered out here. Those fortunate few who were allowed within the courthouse had to push through the crowd.


    Shudder or not, for the first time in his life, Greg was relieved to see an angry mob. A genuinely angry mob, carrying rotten fruits and eggs, awaiting the accused to pelt them with groceries. Like they had done to Greg before.


    Not today, though. He, Gustave and Mr. Higgins had prime seats today, thanks to the family connection. Antonio dropped them off right at the main entrance.


    A battalion of city guards kept the crowd away from the steps leading up to the entrance, so the three of them could climb out and enter the building without having to use their elbows. The portal doors stood wide open, showing the entrance hall beyond with the plinth on which Mithras stood, His sword raised straight into the air to the domed ceiling, painted with a blazing sun.


    Greg stopped to stare at the statue.


    Would that, too, be replaced by the wolf and tree Duke Stuard had chosen as the new crest of Loegrion? It seemed unlikely¡ªto the broader public, werewolves had been the wild and uncontrollable monsters for so long, spinning them into symbols of impartial judgement would probably be too much of a leap.


    ¡°You coming, Greg?¡± Gustave asked, one foot already on the stairs behind the statue.


    Greg shook himself and skirted around Lord Mithras, to follow the stream of people heading towards the main courtroom. It had seating for spectators on the main floor, sloped much like the seating in a theatre, and a gallery above with standing rooms, all of it staring down on the stage: the box for the accused, the high backed chair of the judge and the twelve, only slightly smaller chairs for the jury of peers.


    Greg¡¯s connection to both David and Lane had gotten them seats on the main floor, second row, which was a lucky thing. The gallery was already filling when Greg, Mr. Higgins and Gustave took their seats. It surprised him, because, when the word had first been spread around, a lot of people called the trial a waste of time. Especially those nobles who had watched Morgulon take two bullets for Lord Mire. Surely, a trial could only confirm what everybody already knew, they had said.


    And yet the seats in the front rows that had been reserved for the higher nobility were filling quickly.


    A pointless formality, Lord Mire himself had called the proceedings, but he had still agreed to preside over them.


    Greg settled into his seat next to Mr. Higgins. Gustave on his other side remained standing, waving to someone up in the stands. When he fell into the seat next to Greg, he grinned hugely.


    ¡°This is great,¡± he said. ¡°Everyone at the club¡¯s going to be so jealous. I¡¯ll have to thank your brother later.¡±


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    Mr. Higgins craned his neck. ¡°He¡¯ll be part of the jury, I presume?¡± Then he grimaced, and added: ¡°¡®Lord Relentless¡¯ would surely have an opinion on this crime?¡±


    Greg shook his head. ¡°David isn¡¯t part of the jury, no. He¡¯s around behind the scenes, though.¡±


    To carry out the verdict as soon as the jury passed it.


    He couldn¡¯t say that out loud, though. That this was a trial with a forgone conclusion.


    A farce of justice. A show.


    Mr. Higgins wouldn¡¯t approve of that.


    Greg suspected that Duke Stuard wanted it done mainly so he¡¯d be able to point towards the trial once everything was over. Somebody was bound to ask the difficult questions, like where the Rot-queen came from, once it passed through Deva. And people would likely be a lot less sanguine about ¡°what everyone knew¡± once two peers had been turned into werewolves and then sacrificed to the Rot.


    So this needed to be convincing.


    ¡°Really.¡± Mr. Higgins¡¯s face brightened a little. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, that left a rather sour taste in my mouth¡ªthat he would serve as juror while his fianc¨¦e serves as prosecutor. Not that I don¡¯t think they¡¯re guilty,¡± he added quickly, when the lady in the row before them turned to glare at him. ¡°Still, justice should be done properly. We need a new government that will uphold the law.¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± Greg said softly, not looking at his teacher.


    Justice. Was it just, to damn the traitors to become Rot? To feeding a Rot-queen? There certainly wasn¡¯t any law in Loegrion that would call for such a punishment. He didn¡¯t think¡ªhe hoped Duke George Louis wouldn¡¯t create one.


    There was no doubt of the traitors¡¯ guilt. Stuard¡¯s men, under Lane¡¯s orders, had collected boxes full of correspondence, and saved from the flames of the fireplace of Picot¡¯s secretary the order to kill Vavre. Signed by Picot¡¯s own hand. Most damning for Pettau and deVries were the writs to holdings within Valoir, for them to take ownership of once ¡°the rebellion¡± had been squashed. Complete with the crest of the Roi Solei.


    It made Greg feel only a little bit better about the whole thing.


    Lord Mire stepped onto the stage, dressed in the black robes of a judge. He would preside over the proceedings, not speak the final verdict. Lane followed him. She would serve as prosecutor¡ªthe first woman to ever do so. As if to underscore that fact, she wore a bright yellow dress.


    Or perhaps she had chosen the colour of Mithras to remind everyone that she had reached into the flames of judgement and come away unburned.


    She didn¡¯t smile, face set and concentrated. Greg was glad it wasn¡¯t him in her position¡ªas far as he knew, she was about as experienced as a prosecutor as he was, and he knew through Gustave that at least one of the defenders was a very experienced lawyer: Doctor Mardis, from Gustave¡¯s own club, was Pettau¡¯s retainer.


    Hence Gustave¡¯s excitement to sit in the second row.


    Next entered the jury. Lord Mire hit the gavel onto his desk, and the spectators rose with a soft murmur and the rustle of fabric, to watch and pay respect to as the jury walked in. Twelve of Loegrion¡¯s highest nobles¡ªas it befitted the jury for a marquies and a count. That this included Duke Stuard and the Widow Desmarais and nine others who had nearly died or lost a loved one was just bad luck. Or rather, a side effect of the size of the crime.


    Mr. Higgins frowned and commented: ¡°There really wasn¡¯t a more impartial jury to be found?¡±


    Greg shrugged. ¡°Not really, no. Not amongst the peers. Maybe the traitors should have thought of that when they helped poison half the nobility. As it is, they can either have an impartial jury or a jury of peers, but not both.¡±


    There would have probably been a less biassed person to preside over the proceedings than Lord Mire. If anyone had cared to try and find one.


    ¡°The Countess deLande is hardly what I¡¯d call an experienced prosecutor,¡± Gustave commented from Greg¡¯s other side, rather smugly. ¡°Maybe it¡¯ll even out.¡±


    Greg hoped Doctor Mardis would go easy on Lane. She hadn¡¯t wanted the job, but Duke Stuard had offered, and several of the ladies of the palace had asked her to do it.


    Another hint of change.


    The jurors took the high backed chairs all around the stage. Which left only the final group: Pettau and deVries and their lawyers. The accused had been allowed to wash off the grime of the werewolf prison and put on clean clothes as their rank befitted. Not that Greg thought it would help them much in making a good impression. The whole hall hissed and jeered when they were marched onto the stage.


    Pettau didn¡¯t let the noise faze him. He walked past the packed rows of spectators as if he couldn¡¯t see or hear them, hands clasped behind his back as if he didn¡¯t notice the chains his guards were holding. DeVries on the other hand looked nervously at the crowd. Perhaps he was searching for a friendly face, perhaps he was delusional enough to think he would find support for what he had done amongst the citizens of Deva.


    In that case, he had grossly misjudged. The people of Deva were only hesitatingly accepting of werewolves, but nobody liked a murderer. Even less so a murderer who resorted to poison.


    The hissing stopped when the two defendants were locked up inside the box¡ªa wooden compartment that reached up to about their chest height¡ªand Lord Mire hit the gavel onto his desk again. Greg settled down in his seat comfortably, to listen as Lane presented the charges he already knew all about. Mr. Higgins and Gustave on the other hand were both on the edges of their seats. Gustave even had a little notebook out, to write down the charges.


    As if it was a horse or dog race and he was planning on betting.


    To his own surprise, Greg realised that he didn¡¯t care about the rhetorics, the clever argumentations. When Doctor Mardis took the stage, Greg was glad he hadn¡¯t been listed as a witness, like Bishop Larssen, who in his place told the jury and the crowd about all the meetings between Pettau, deVries and Vavre the mushroom collector. Trying to make the Bishop contradict himself.


    As if he really thought he would get deVries out of this.


    Greg had to suppress a yawn. He had used to think he wanted to be a lawyer. Defend the innocent and make sure the guilty got a fair trial.


    Funny how that changed in the face of just how depraved people could be.


    He still thought that every accused deserved a legal defender. He just really, really didn¡¯t want it to be him. Didn¡¯t want to listen to Pettau¡¯s angry ranting at how every honest Mithran had a sacred duty to resist this ¡°rebellion of monsters,¡± and how he just wished they had found a stronger poison or killed Morgulon first.


    Mardis quickly swooped in to point out how his client would never say that.


    Doctor Mardis was a good lawyer, no doubt. Greg couldn¡¯t tell if he was doing this for the money, for the principle of the thing, or because he really thought deVries might be innocent, but Mardis certainly tried his best to get deVries off the gallows. The doctor did have some noticeable difficulties adjusting to the fact that he wasn¡¯t arguing with another lawyer, but the woman¡ªand a countess¡ªwho had been a hero to many even before this whole mess and had recently become the closest thing to a living saint to all those potential clients in the front rows. He simply couldn¡¯t argue with her the same way as he probably would have with another professional.


    And Lane wasn¡¯t above using that to her advantage, from her dress to the way she would clutch her hands in front of her chest. Greg almost laughed out loud when Doctor Mardis thought he had Lane backed in a corner, and she just gave him a perfectly fake, demure smile and gently said: ¡°If you are so certain of your client¡¯s innocence, I will happily take you on in a challenge of faith on the matter.¡±


    Gustave didn¡¯t seem to think that was funny at all.


    With half an ear Greg listened to Mr. Higgins and Gustave whispered discussion around him, but he barely joined in. Would he have cared more if there had been a realistic chance of either of the two to get away with what they had done?


    The wolf growled in the back of his head when Lane pulled out her best proof¡ªthe writ land grant¡ªwhich resulted in deVries, too, cracking and screaming bloody murder at her.


    When the whole ordeal was finally over and the jury retreated to deliberate¡ªanother act of the show¡ªGustave commented, ¡°You seem like you''d rather be somewhere else.¡±


    It sounded like an accusation. Or, more likely, like Gustave was hurt by Greg¡¯s impatience with the trial.


    Which was getting harder and harder to hide.


    ¡°It¡¯s weird,¡± he said softly, ¡°when you realise that what you wanted all your life doesn¡¯t even interest you any longer.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t interested in this trial¡¯s outcome?¡± Mr. Higgins asked, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.


    Right. Way to keep the secret.


    ¡°I knew about the writs of land,¡± Greg said. ¡°Do you really think there was any way for them to get out of that?¡±


    ¡°I suppose that knowledge does make the trial less interesting,¡± Gustave said. ¡°But, uh, not to be rude, but it¡¯s not really an option for you any more, is it? Going to university, reading law?¡±


    Greg glared at him. ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°I just figured, well, that it would be a relief. To know that you don¡¯t want to do that. Since you can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Not my fault the law faculty is so stuck up about werewolves,¡± Greg grumbled. ¡°I¡¯ll probably go into engineering.¡±


    Provided Mr. Smith and Prof. Martens kept their word.


    ¡°How would that work?¡± Mr. Higgins already asked.


    ¡°Prof. Martens promised to help me get in,¡± Greg said. ¡°Soon as Morgulon helps heal him.¡±


    They should probably get on with that. Before the professor died.


    Mr. Higgins and Gustave both did a poor job at hiding their surprise.


    ¡°Engineering is going to be easier, too,¡± Greg said, before either of them could voice their doubts or assure him that he would do well. ¡°Do you remember when I first returned,¡± he added, looking at Mr. Higgins, ¡°and we did the maths lesson in the pavillon right before full moon? And I said that it made the wolf quiet even though it didn''t understand a word? This whole arguing is doing the opposite.¡±


    ¡°It''s quite confrontative,¡± Mr. Higgins said slowly. ¡°How did you meet this Prof. Martens? What kind of engineering does he teach?¡±


    ¡°I think I mentioned Mr. Smith before?¡± Greg said.


    He still told them about the engineer he had met on the railway, the man who had gone into the forest to defeat the Rot with nothing but lots of firewood. For no other reason but his love for Loegrion. For a Revolution most people had thought wasn¡¯t possible at the time.


    And yet, here they were.


    ***


    The jury didn¡¯t deliberate long. Greg suspected they just had a snack and perhaps a pipe before agreeing that they were, in fact, all in agreement and everyone was called back into the hall to hear the decision.


    Guilty as charged, the both of them. To be subjected to the werewolf bite, as Picot had already been. Just as planned.


    It was still a relief to hear.


    And there was David. When Lord Mire accepted the jury¡¯s decision, he suddenly appeared at Duke Stuard¡¯s side, dressed all in black. Alvin¡¯s shade was just a hint of silver around David¡¯s neck, glistening on the buttons of his doublet. Rust and Ragna were very real standing towards the back of the hall, both in their uniforms. Porter stood between them, and even though he was in his wolf shape, he managed to look less impressive than the two officers.


    Or maybe that was just because Greg could feel the power of the elders.


    He didn¡¯t hear what David said to George Louis. There was a gasp of shock when David waved Porter forward, when the onlookers realised that it was going to happen right here, right now¡ªthat they were going to witness the two lords getting bitten. Pettau and deVries, both so angry, so condescending during the trial, started screaming in terror, begging for their lives.


    Not that it helped them.


    Greg couldn¡¯t bring himself to look at what happened next. He watched David instead, who watched on without a hint of emotion on his face as Porter bit both traitors.


    Lord Relentless.


    His brother.


    Was he the only one who noticed the way David¡¯s hand had clenched around the pommel of his sword, the rigid posture of his shoulders. Did Lane see it? Duke Stuard?


    Greg hoped they saw.


    And then it was over. DeVries and Pettau sagged into sorry heaps on the floor, dragged away by guards, their wrists manacled with silver. David offered Lane his arm, and they filed out with the jury and Lord Mire through the back. Leaving behind a shocked crowd of onlookers, clearly divided on what they had just witnessed¡ªsome people started clapping, there was whistling, too, and a growing roar as people began to argue.


    Greg sighed and forced himself to breathe deeply against the foreign rage rising in his chest.

 Chapter 206

    David followed the newly-bitten traitors out the backdoor. Lane¡¯s hand on his arm was the only part of his body that felt warm. Real.


    It shouldn¡¯t disgust him so much when his own plan came together.


    There was a cart waiting for Pettau and deVries at the back of the building, ready with an iron cage at the back. Horses, too, to take David, Rust and Ragna along to Fort Brunich. From where neither Pettau nor deVries would ever return.


    Lane¡¯s horse was waiting, too.


    DeVries climbed into the cage with a wooden face, following the guards¡¯ orders without reaction. Pettau tore on his manacles, hissing and spitting at his guards, who retaliated with liberal use of their truncheons.


    David didn¡¯t attempt to stop them.


    He probably should. Greg wouldn¡¯t have approved of this, would he?


    ¡°What would Greg think of this,¡± was the most solid moral compass he had left right now. And he still didn¡¯t move to stop the guards from abusing the traitors. Because if he allowed the mask of Lord Relentless to slip, he wasn¡¯t sure he could put it back on again.


    Lane at his side had adopted the same stony expression he had last seen her wear the very night Greg had been bitten.


    He wanted to ask her how she reconciled his plan with her faith¡ªif she would dare reach into a fire ever again? Especially after Bishop Larssen had so vehemently refused any participation? What did Rust and Ragna think of his plan, for that matter?


    But aloud he said: ¡°I can take it from here, milady. I¡¯m afraid the next step is going to be rather¡ªrotten.¡±


    To take the traitors to Fort Brunich, they first had to make it back to the main street and past the crowd waiting to throw their expired groceries. And he didn¡¯t particularly trust the citizens¡¯ aim.


    ¡°I promised Lady Imani you would be home for dinner,¡± Lane said wryly. ¡°So I¡¯ll come along.¡±


    There went that attempt at chivalry. ¡°As you wish.¡±


    He helped her up onto her horse, wondering what the guards made of them as he climbed in the saddle, too, directing his horse next to the cart. The driver clicked his tongue and the six fine horses up front started to pull.


    It wasn¡¯t a particularly heavy cart. Not for beasts used to pulling a dozen prisoners or more, squeezed into the cage in the back, so they got moving pretty quickly. The alley behind the courthouse was narrow, servicing a bunch of grander buildings. It had been blocked off by the city guard, too, so the only sound David heard was the sound of the horses¡¯ iron shoes on the cobblestones and the distant grumble of the crowd.


    ¡°My Lord?¡±


    The carter¡¯s question made David jump a little.


    ¡°My lord, if I may ask, what¡¯s going to happen to the traitors, now that they¡¯re werewolves?¡±


    Would the man run straight to the press if he got his answer? Did it even matter? The truth was¡ª¡°They will die.¡±


    ¡°Why the bite then?¡±


    ¡°Because they fear it more than death itself,¡± Lane lied smoothly.


    The carter nodded, looking satisfied with that answer. ¡°As long as they die,¡± he said, bringing the cart around the side of the courthouse. Towards where the crowd was being held back by a thin line of city guards.


    ¡°Death to the traitors, death to the traitors,¡± their chanting echoed through the alley.


    ¡°Make sure nobody gets too close,¡± David said, turning to Ragna who was riding right behind him.


    They couldn¡¯t risk anyone trying to make sure the traitors died.


    ¡°You got it, Sir,¡± Ragna said, decidedly unenthusiastically. She did let herself fall back though, until she rode next to the cart.


    Rust sighed, but took the other side of the cart, putting up his collar. ¡°The things we do for you,¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°Are much appreciated,¡± David said.


    And then they rounded the corner and the barrage of rotten fruit and eggs started. As David predicted, the good citizens of Deva had rather poor aim. Mostly, they hit the wooden sides of the carts, but also the horses. David took a couple of surprisingly painful apples to the side, and avoided getting egged right in the face only through superior reflexes. Ragna cursed behind him.


    David kept his eyes on the road ahead, not looking at the masses. He still spotted Greg out of the corner of his eyes¡ªat least the crowd wasn¡¯t throwing anything at him.


    Right at the courthouse, the city guard kept the crowd away and the street clear. Unfortunately, there weren¡¯t enough guards though to keep the masses away all the way out of the city, so it didn¡¯t take long for the cart to be slowed down to a crawl. Bodies pressed in from all sides, even crowding the horses.


    Pushing up against the waggon, throwing food and rocks at the prisoners.


    ¡°Stand back!¡± David yelled, then cursed when an egg hit him in the chest. The carter didn¡¯t bother with yelling¡ªhe stood up on the coach box, swinging his whip at the people. Not that it helped much.


    ¡°Oh, Mithras¡¯s flaming¡­¡± David muttered to himself, pulling out his pistol and firing a shot straight in the air.


    The echo silenced the crowd enough for him to yell: ¡°They¡¯ll die! My word on it! We¡¯re just making sure they¡¯ll hurt first!¡±


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    That finally bought them enough space for the horses to move onwards, if slowly.


    Once they made it past a few more blocks, the crowd started to thin, and they could quicken their pace. Then it was just the regular traffic of Deva. And then they left the city gates behind, and all that stretched out in front of them was the wide open road to the west. Towards where Fort Brunich waited for them.


    David let himself fall back until he rode next to Ragna, to see just how bad she had been hit. There was egg white dripping down her back, her pants, and her horse, too. She glared at him good naturedly, grumbling: ¡°I can¡¯t believe I took a hit for those bastards.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± David said. ¡°And thank you.¡±


    Lane and Rust directed their horses around the cart, too, joining them. Without saying anything, they fell behind the cart, where the driver wouldn¡¯t hear them over the clatter of the hooves.


    ¡°Say,¡± Rust asked. ¡°Speaking of rewards. What are the chances that we¡¯ll be allowed to keep our ranks once the war is over?¡±


    It was a question David had expected to come much earlier, though he thought it would have come from Ragna. ¡°You¡¯re not planning to retire?¡± he asked back.


    ¡°And do what with myself?¡± Rust rubbed his freshly groomed beard. ¡°Don¡¯t want to end like Pierre, bitter and old before I even reach my full potential. I¡¯m much more of a soldier than I¡¯ll ever be as a werewolf.¡±


    ¡°There will be land for you,¡± David said. ¡°I will fight for that, and even if the duke denies it, you¡¯ll get it as my vassals.¡±


    ¡°Appreciated,¡± Ragna said in Rust¡¯s place.


    Which seemed to surprise the older man. ¡°You want to retire?¡± he asked.


    Ragna looked out over the fields surrounding the road, golden corn standing high. Her lips twitched, then she smiled, embarrassed, David thought. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d say this,¡± Ragna said, ¡°but I might try the whole settling down thing, yes. I always told myself if there was any way, I¡¯d sail across the ocean, fight for Fylke¡­¡±


    She sighed. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m getting old, but that just doesn¡¯t seem appealing any longer. If the gods don¡¯t think I fought hard enough after all this, well, they¡¯re fools, aren¡¯t they? And it¡¯s not like Loegrion isn¡¯t my home as much as Fylke was.¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± David said. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the warm summer evening¡ªthe faint smell of eggs, the horses and leather mixing with the dust from the road, and the flowers in the fields.


    Home.


    He hadn¡¯t thought of that in a while. This was for Greg. His family. All the loyal werewolves who had fought with him.


    Would he ever feel at home here after everything he had done to the land?


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± Lane said, as if she had read the thought off his face.


    He could only hope she was right. But it was a relief, too¡ªthat she wasn¡¯t pulling away in the face of what he was about to do.


    Rust was still glancing at him.


    ¡°I see no reason to demote you,¡± David said. ¡°Or why you¡¯d be forced to retire. We¡¯ll be fighting the Rot for years to come. Possibly more Valoisian armies, too. DeVale sees the advantages in what you can do, and the duke would be a fool not to keep you on.¡±


    He shifted in the saddle to look over his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ll likely be stuck commanding werewolves for a long time,¡± he added.


    Rust laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want me to contaminate your precious human men, would you?¡± he said.


    ¡°That,¡± David said. ¡°And with your ability to share your experience with even the greenest werewolf soldier, it would be a waste to give you human troops.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± Rust said.


    ¡°We¡¯re really going to go through with this plan, aren¡¯t we?¡± Ragna asked.


    ¡°Do you want to back out?¡± David asked. ¡°I won¡¯t blame you if you do.¡±


    He thought Ragna thought about it. She didn¡¯t answer for a good while. Then she blew a strand of hair out of her face and shook her head. ¡°No. No, I won¡¯t back out. I was just curious. Would have thought there would be more objections against us seeding the only big river that hasn¡¯t been taken over yet with the Rot.¡±


    ¡°Not so far, no,¡± David said. He looked over at the cart, but it didn¡¯t look like their prisoners were paying them any attention. The two lords sat across from each other, as far apart as possible. DeVries stared down at his feet, Pettau David couldn¡¯t quite see.


    ***


    The sun was touching the horizon by the time Fort Brunich came into view, smoke rising above the extensive barracks. David and the rest of them overtook the cart before they got to the gate. Answering the salute of the officer greeting him felt nearly as wrong as it had back in the beginning¡ªit wasn¡¯t like the werewolves could salute him in their wolf bodies.


    The officers and quartermasters were the only humans left in the fort. The only troops stationed there were now the werewolves.


    They crowded around, the men and women who would forever be his¡ªveteran soldiers and prisoners and the elder volunteers the Red had brought to the fight. Seeing them again was bitter sweet. They seemed quite happy with the accommodations.


    Which were made more comfortable by the fact that so few of them had returned.


    He would have liked to stay there. Sleep where his soldiers slept, like he had for¡ªhad it really just been a few weeks?


    It seemed much longer.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be back for full moon, I take it?¡± Ragna asked.


    Of course, David wanted to say. But what was the point? All he could do was lock himself into the old keep with the rest of what remained of the human staff.


    ¡°Full moon, or the day after,¡± he said instead. ¡°We¡¯ll have to leave as soon as we know how the two of them get through their first full moon.¡±


    He really, really hoped they wouldn¡¯t turn mad just yet. It would be much easier to get them to the river¡¯s source if Morgulon could just force them to come along.


    ¡°Don¡¯t spread the word just yet,¡± he added, which earned him an eye roll.


    ¡°Yessir,¡± Ragna said, and snapped him a salute before adding: ¡°Go home.¡±


    David sighed, but let himself get sent away. It was strange, to ride home with only Lane by his side. He kept craning his neck, trying to watch his back, waiting for an ambush, a scout to report¡­


    All he heard were the crickets in the fields, the rustle of the wind in the trees. The clatter of the hooves on the cobblestones. As dusk fell, the mournful hooting of the owls came up, too. Lane didn¡¯t seem to feel any need to fill the silence with chatter.


    David did have a question burning on his mind, though, and once he relaxed enough, he asked: ¡°Do you think I¡¯m doing the right thing?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lane said simply.


    ¡°Even as¡ªa Mithran?¡± David asked.


    She gave him a lopsided smile at that, running a hand through her hair. ¡°The Church of Mithras has been seeding the Rot for ages. Are all those priests heretics? At that point, what is even left of the Church?¡±


    She sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t really want to think about that. I know what Bishop Larssen thinks.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But Morgulon didn¡¯t say we shouldn¡¯t do it. She didn¡¯t like it, but she didn¡¯t refuse to help. And I do not see what else we can do to defeat the Valoise.¡±


    She stared out at the road for a moment, before addin: ¡°At least you have a way to deal with the fallout that doesn¡¯t involve salting acres upon acres with alchemy.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± David said softly.


    ¡°I just hope Alvin really can protect you,¡± Lane added. ¡°Even from a queen.¡±


    ¡°Only one way to find out,¡± David said.


    ¡°That, I worry about much more,¡± Lane claimed. ¡°And it worries me that you don¡¯t seem to worry about that.¡±


    When he just shrugged and smiled back weakly, she seemed to catch that he didn''t want to talk about the matter. Instead, she changed the topic abruptly: ¡°You know, we might want to start thinking about a marriage date. Before the duke decides all his knights need to remain unwed.¡±


    David huffed. ¡°He would come up with something like that, wouldn¡¯t he?¡±

 Chapter 207

    It surprised Greg a little when David didn¡¯t run straight back to Fort Brunich the next day. His oldest brother had that expression¡ªthat restlessness.


    Not that Greg felt any better. Even for the first night of the full moon, there was something off.


    Was he going mad, or was there someone standing behind him? When Greg turned his head, there was nobody there, but he could have sworn he heard someone breathing right in his ear¡ªever since he had first stepped into the drawing room in the morning to wake the cubs. He had been helping his mother and Morgulon feed them breakfast when he had first noticed the odd sound. The brush of air on his skin.


    Nobody else seemed to notice.


    Well, Morgulon either didn¡¯t notice or didn¡¯t think it was worth mentioning. It was still hard to tell with her. And Greg didn¡¯t want to ask. It was probably something about the full moon. If it was, he didn¡¯t want to know.


    At least David could go into the city, or the palace, and do something useful with himself. Greg was certain he¡¯d just screw up his calculations or something, if he tried to work on the paper money today.


    So he took the cubs out into the garden and tried to relax as they chased butterflies and bumblebees across the lawn, stumbling into each other. Biting each others¡¯ tails and knocking each other over. It would have been relaxing¡ªeven idyllic¡ªif it weren¡¯t for that distinct sense that he wasn¡¯t the only one watching them.


    Did someone hold the curtain for him as he ushered them back into the dining room for lunch?


    But Imani didn¡¯t seem to notice, and neither did his father or Nathan. Morgulon still made no sign that anything was amiss when she padded in after Lane.


    Greg took a seat, right next to Thoko as usually, a shudder running down his spine as he shifted Hewan in his lap.


    He still jumped when David walked in, and the silver shade around his neck flew to the ground, turning into the giant wolf cub¡ªcrashing into the man who appeared right behind Greg¡¯s chair.


    Greg almost jerked out of his skin and into his other body at the sudden appearance. Morgulon stopped him, like a gentle hand on his shoulder, before he could wreck the table.


    She couldn¡¯t stop David or the crossbow he whipped off his back¡ªnor the two bolts that went flying.


    The stranger folded in on himself, collapsing into a different shape, with an elegance and ease that Greg wouldn¡¯t reach for decades to come. Human to wolf to human again. And still¡ªby the time the two steel tipped bolts clattered to the ground and the stranger reached for his clothes, David¡¯s crossbow was trained at him again, now loaded with silver.


    They stared at each other¡ªnaked werewolf and hunter¡ªwith identical expressions of shock and horror.


    You¡¯re an idiot, Morgulon commented.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± David asked, catching himself first, his face quickly closing off.


    It sounded like they knew each other?


    Greg didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever seen the stranger¡ªa man with bright red hair and beard, about Bram¡¯s age, if Greg was any judge. A strange man who was missing a hand.


    He was slowly raising both arms, fully fixated on David¡¯s crossbow. ¡°I came to visit my nieces.¡±


    ¡°And you decided to sneak in like a burglar, why?¡± David asked.


    He glanced at Nathan, who no doubt had his own crossbow ready, if yet hidden below the table. Greg wished he knew what the signal meant. He thought Nathan was relaxing a little?


    ¡°The city guard tried to send me to a place they called Windish when I attempted to enter the city. It did not seem wise to show myself once I had evaded them. I meant no harm.¡±


    To Greg¡¯s surprise, David abruptly lowered his crossbow. ¡°Be glad I rarely pack silver these days,¡± he said. ¡°And don¡¯t do it again.¡±


    He turned to the rest of the room. ¡°The Red, everyone.¡±


    Greg stared at the old man, who slowly, not looking away from David, reached for his pants.


    David didn¡¯t put the weapon away.


    ¡°Did¡ªdid Larissa find you?¡± Greg asked, when nobody else said anything.


    ¡°Yes,¡± the Red said.


    ¡°So¡­ will you help with the Rot-queen?¡± Greg asked.


    ¡°Another one?¡± the Red asked, picking up his shirt, too. A simple, somewhat grubby shirt, that fit with his flap trousers. When he was finished dressing, he wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place in Eyal¡¯s butty gang.


    ¡°We can discuss that later,¡± David said. ¡°Have a seat.¡±


    Greg got a strong sense that the elder would have much preferred to just walk out the way he had come, but after a second, he nodded, sitting down next to Greg.


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    ¡°I apologise for startling you,¡± he said. ¡°It was never my intention.¡±


    To be caught at all?


    Greg decided not to say that out loud.


    ¡°Even Morgulon didn¡¯t know you were there, did she?¡± he asked instead. When the Red nodded, he added: ¡°How did Alvin spot you then?¡±


    ¡°Alvin? Oh, the ghost boy?¡± The Red glanced at David. ¡°I do not know. I have never tried to hide from a dead spirit before. He is nothing but magic, so I suspect that he interacts with magic quite differently from a living soul. I would be interested in knowing how he came to be bound to you, Lord Relentless.¡±


    David¡¯s face hardened even further. Greg half expected him not to answer at all. ¡°He took a silver bullet for me, at the battle for Port Neaf. I attempted to help with what little magic I have and failed. His blood mixed with mine when I did. I expected the Rot to take me, but instead¡­¡±


    David waved at the shade of the young wolf, which flowed together, gathering like a shawl around David¡¯s shoulders once more.


    ¡°How very curious,¡± the Red said softly. He hesitated, looking at David searchingly, before adding, ¡°He must have cared for you a great deal.¡±


    ¡°I would have made him my heir,¡± David said, abruptly setting down the crossbow and taking a seat himself. His tone clearly said that the conversation was over.


    ***


    The garden of the house in Deva was much smaller than the one at Courtenay. Greg hadn¡¯t minded before, but with two adult werewolves and five cubs, plus Imani, Thoko and Lane, the little piece of lawn, surrounded by a hedge and a wall towards the road, felt quite crowded.


    Or maybe that was just Greg. He envied the two elders who lay in the sun like there wasn¡¯t a care in the world. Like it wasn¡¯t the first night of full moon in a few hours. They didn¡¯t even seem interested in the snacks Imani had had brought out.


    It made him feel even more greedy for picking from the plate constantly, but it was the only thing that stopped him from snapping at the cubs when they tumbled into him.


    Morgulon didn¡¯t even twitch her ears when one of the boy-cubs sank his baby teeth into her tail and tried to play tug-of-war with it. Emboldened by their brother, her other two sons joined in on the game, but Morgulon barely seemed to be aware of the three cubs using her extended spine as a teething toy.


    When they started on his tail, too, the Red asked: When will you take them to safety?


    They are safe.


    For now, the Red conceded, but he pressed on, it¡¯s a good time to cross the mountains.


    No.


    Greg jumped at the vehemence in Morgulon¡¯s thoughts. The Red raised his head, too.


    Stay, if you want to help, she went on. I¡¯m done running. My children will not chew snow for water, sleeping in caves, eating their kills raw.


    The Red¡¯s answer sounded amused. You enjoy all those things.


    Their father doesn¡¯t, Morgulon said, looking at Greg, who was chewing at a piece of cake. And I don¡¯t think all of them will come after me. If they chose to, it¡¯s different. But they¡¯ll have that. A choice. I will give them that.


    She looked up at the house, towards the window of David¡¯s room. We will give them that.


    Greg shuddered when he followed her gaze, and reached for another piece of cake. He was glad, so very glad, that he couldn¡¯t help with David¡¯s plan at all. The Red, though? How old was he really?


    He hasn¡¯t yet managed to defeat one of the enemy¡¯s armies, the Red pointed out, with the same tired tone of a teacher who had to explain too often. And you know the enemy can send more.


    He will create a Rot-queen, Morgulon said. Sacrifice the river to do it. Drive the queen at the enemy. If you want to keep them safe, stay and protect this city.


    While you do what?


    Drive the queen, of course.


    How do you know you won¡¯t end up a sacrifice to the river yourself?


    ¡°That¡¯s idiotic,¡± Greg complained. Lane and Thoko and Imani jumped at his outburst.


    Greg withered as the weight of the Red¡¯s regard fell onto him, but the assumption annoyed him so much¡ªor more likely, Morgulon backed him¡ªthat he could add. ¡°Nobody wants to deal with a queen that powerful. Asides, you think anyone would help push back the Rot afterwards, if David did that?¡±


    The Red just sighed. But he will sacrifice a werewolf to do it, won¡¯t he?


    Morgulon¡¯s tail jerked, to the delight of the cubs who hung on for dear life. Traitors who threatened to kill his family, she said. Bitten for the purpose alone.


    The Red raised his head to look at her¡ªstare at her, really¡ªin a silent challenge.


    Morgulon rolled her eyes at him. After a few seconds, he looked away again.


    I believe it is a good solution, Morgulon said. As much as the circumstances allow. Unless you know a dragon we can summon to drive out the enemy.


    The Red didn¡¯t answer, turning away to look at the cubs who were now testing if his tail would move, too. Aiwaz gave up quickly, and instead tried to climb up his back.


    Lane looked at Greg, but he shook his head as subtly as he could.


    I don¡¯t know any dragons, the Red said after a long moment. Or any other creature that could defeat the Valoise. When will you leave the city?


    Right after this full moon.


    The Red ducked his head as Aiwaz had managed to push up to his shoulders, until she managed to plant one front paw between his ears. When he lowered his head, she tumbled right down, briefly trying to hold onto his nose, before she landed in a heap between his front paws. Looking up at him with big eyes.


    I suppose you can leave it to Monroe and Malinda to make sure the city remains safe, Morgulon said. And Pierre of course. They should be quite able repel a single queen.


    That old priest you fought? Bah.


    Morgulon shrugged. He is certainly old.


    The Red bared his teeth at the comment, until Aiwaz poked her nose against his lower jaw.


    Fine, the Red grumbled. Fine! I¡¯ll stay. At least till the queen passed through the city.


    Greg exhaled a breath he hadn¡¯t realised he had been holding, grinning at Thoko without thinking about it.

 Chapter 208

    David hugged Imani and Bram goodbye at the house in Deva. He said goodbye to Lane at the palace, for the crowd, George Louis doing his best to smile as they kissed. The people only knew that he was leaving town to set a trap for the enemy, and there was certainly weariness in their cheering. The shrill whistles of people venting their displeasure.


    That was fair, David thought. What would they do if he knew of his plan? Lynch him on the spot?


    He didn¡¯t have an escort¡ªthe less people who saw where he was going and whom he picked up, the better. He certainly didn¡¯t trust some random city guards to keep their mouth shut.


    In place of a guard, Nathan insisted on riding out to Fort Brunich with him, silver tipped spear attached to the saddle. The greater surprise was that Greg and Andrew decided to come, too.


    The Feleke Four ride again, Morgulon commented.


    She stuck around until they left Deva behind. As soon as they passed the final buildings she whispered in David¡¯s head, I¡¯ll meet you there, and vanished from sight.


    Maybe she knew how special this moment was. Just the four of them, for the first time since¡ªDavid didn¡¯t remember. Probably since that day at the Savre Camp right after the Rot attack.


    He inhaled deeply, tasting the hot summer air¡ªcloying in places, the dust of the road mixing with the sweat from the animals, the tang of leather, the wildflowers growing in the fields. He hoped today wouldn¡¯t lead to the same kind of calamity that the Savre Camp had had to withstand. Hoped that the Red would truly be able to defend Deva. That Deggan would be evacuated in time. That the Valoise wouldn¡¯t come up with another trick he hadn¡¯t foreseen.


    That it was possibly to steer the Rot and drive it all the way towards the enemy.


    They didn¡¯t talk about all the things that could go wrong with this plan. They didn¡¯t speak much at all, just enjoying the company. David tried not to let the thought that it might be the last time they were all together settle in.


    Alvin¡¯s ghost trotted along, as untouchable as ever.


    David watched the apparition, still fascinated by the way the corn didn''t move as it passed right through. Was he putting too much faith in the spectre? Would the dead youth really be able to protect him from a Rot-queen? Was he insane for attempting this?


    He¡¯d find out soon enough.


    As Fort Brunich came into view, David sat up straighter in the saddle. As if he had felt the tension, Alvin stopped frolicking through the fields, gathering around his shoulders like a protective cloak.


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    Morgulon was resting in the sun right outside the fort¡¯s stone walls, panting like a giant dog in the summer heat. When David rode up, she got up, stretched and asked:


    Do I need to come inside?


    ¡°They might have some water for you inside,¡± David said. ¡°But no, this shouldn¡¯t take too many long.¡±


    He just needed to collect the traitors, and the other three werewolves Morgulon had chosen to drive the Rot-queen, say goodbye to his brothers. Then they¡¯d be on the road again.


    Ragna was waiting for him right inside the gates, already wolf. Laurent and Fox stood back a little, also wolves, Picot between them, Pettau and deVries on either side¡ªhuman. Neither of the three traitors was shackled, but one of the veterans stood a few feet apart from them, holding chains. Silver chains: He wore gloves even in the summer heat.


    David climbed out of the saddle, and then waited stiffly as the camp commander made a big show out of greeting and welcoming him. A typical, old-fashioned Loegrian officer¡ªwhich meant he hadn¡¯t fought in decades.


    David was certain he heard Nathan snigger. He thought it was about the commander until he caught a muttered half-line about the duke and his ¡°first knight¡±--unless that was a pun about ¡°first nights.¡±


    David inwardly rolled his eyes. And still wished he could take Nathan along on the journey to come. Maybe he should have asked the Wayfarers for their amulets.


    Too late now.


    Nathan stopped joking as the commander followed up with a brief report on how the unsettled werewolves had gone through the full moon. Mainly listing the names of the soldiers who had died a pointless, unavoidable death.


    By the time the commander had finished, Andrew had already taken the chains out of the young werewolf¡¯s hands and was busy attaching them to David''s saddle.


    Hopefully, they wouldn¡¯t be needed at all strange as it felt to wish that Picot of all people wouldn''t succumb to the curse. But it was a lot easier to watch Fox order the three traitors around without a word.


    ¡°Where will you take them?¡± the commander asked.


    ¡°They''ll fight for Loegrion for once in their lives,¡± David said. ¡°We are leaving now,¡± he added, before the commander could ask how. ¡°I trust you will continue to take good care of my soldiers until I return.¡±


    I''ll make sure he does, Rust promised. And you better make sure you do come back.


    David nodded at the giant wolf waiting in the sun, then turned to Ragna. ¡°Ready?¡±


    One moment, she said. A couple of younger werewolves hurried over, carrying harnesses with packs attached. They quickly strapped Ragna in¡ªFox and Laurent, too.


    David wondered what the traitors were thinking of the preparations. All three of them stood stiffly, unmoving. Unable to complain or ask questions.


    They looked rather pitiful in their threadbare prison clothes, nothing like the haughty nobles David used to know them as.


    He shook himself. They had tried to kill George Louis and hand over all of Loegrion. Had happily accepted the deaths of countless innocents and doomed even more soldiers¡ªhuman and werewolf¡ªat Port Neaf.


    If anyone deserved their fate, it was these three.


    Time to go.


    One last salute, and David walked out of the camp with his brothers, the elders and the sacrifices. Morgulon was waiting for them, eagerly sniffing the packs the other three elders carried. Her excited reaction made David suspect that it was mainly food.


    With a heavy sigh, he turned to his brothers.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure about this?¡± Andrew asked at the same time that Nathan said, ¡°you sure you don''t want me to come along?¡±


    Greg didn''t say anything at all.


    ¡°I''m sure, yes,¡± David lied. ¡°Take care of each other. And the rest of the family.¡±


    ¡°Take care of yourself,¡± Greg said.

 Chapter 209

    ¡°Come find me, if you survive the full moon,¡± the strange lord had said. The one they all feared, even the chasseurs in their shiny silver armour.


    The lord who commanded the werewolves and the Rot alike.


    ¡°Lord Relentless.¡±


    Issa had practised saying the title in the Loegrian language ever since he had gotten bitten¡ªwith a brief break while he had figured out how to regain his human form after full moon. He was moving north, too. Away from the Valoisian troops, hopefully.


    At first, he had wished Lord Relentless had been a little more clear on how to find him, but it had become obvious to Issa why he hadn¡¯t bothered quite quickly:


    He was being called. When he tried to deviate from the path, from the right direction, even to search for food, it was as if he were climbing a mountain. To go north, on the other hand, was effortless. No, not effortless. But less effort than it should have been.


    As if all the roads north led endlessly downhill.


    It had been a weak, barely-there pull right after the full moon, but with every step Issa had taken, it had grown stronger. After a full month of walking, Issa was quite certain he couldn¡¯t have turned around even if he had wanted to.


    Maybe this was the magic of Lord Relentless. If all the other werewolves in the country feel the same pull towards that man, it was no wonder he commanded them so easily. How would it feel to stand in front of him?


    And where did that power come from?


    It certainly didn¡¯t come from Lord Mithras.


    Not that this was a bad thing, Issa reckoned. He had learned to worship Mithras because failing to do so would have brought the wrath of the Empire down on his family, his whole village. But he wasn¡¯t Valoisian-born, wasn¡¯t of the Sun God¡¯s Chosen People. What had the Golden Lord ever done for him?


    Lord Relentless had spared his life, only had ordered him bitten.


    So Issa had kept moving north. Towards the capital of the enemy, if he guessed correctly. The thought of arriving there scared him to no end, but where else might someone like him find help? A freshly created monster. Where else could he go but towards the capital of monsters?


    And now another full moon was over, and he was once again stuck in the wolf body. Not that he would have wanted to walk around the landscape buck naked. Just that a choice would have been nice.


    Issa stopped at a little stream, sniffing the water before drinking. He was probably foolish to put any hope in the Loegrians. Most likely, they would press him into service soon as they got a hold of him, just like the Valoise had.


    But it was nice to dream of a better future as he walked. Even if he would never make it off this strange island again. Perhaps, there¡¯d be a way to let his parents know he was alive, some day?


    The thought was blown from his mind before he could even start to think of all the reasons why it wouldn¡¯t work. Lord Relentless was moving. Moving fast, too.


    It felt like an earthquake. As if the whole world rearranged itself around him, dragging him in a new direction. It was a good thing he¡¯d crouched down to have a drink, or the sudden change in the magic might have swept him off his feet.


    It called him stronger than ever.


    Three days later, he arrived at a city. He had been running almost day and night to get there so fast. It was a big city, and the call was compelling him to head straight for the gate. The air tasted of salt, and seagulls cried overhead.


    He had reached the coast. In the far, far distance, the ocean glittered in the sun.


    Issa sat down on his haunches, panting like a dog in the heat. Trying to catch his breath before he walked in there. The city scared him.


    It had a port. A centre surrounded by walls, and sprawling quarters around that. The city had outgrown its gates, but Issa could see guards and soldiers at every road leading in.


    He had to risk it anyway.


    Once he started walking, there was no stopping. The power dragged him forwards, into the city. The guards lowered their muskets at him when he approached, but they didn¡¯t fire. They just watched him walk closer. Issa stared back. He couldn¡¯t have so much as growled at them, even if he had wanted to¡ªthe call prohibited it.


    He wondered if they knew it. When he reached them, they got out of the way, calling to each other in their own language. Issa had no idea what they said, but it didn¡¯t sound scared, or frantic, or angry. Possibly amused.


    The streets were curiously deserted. It was the middle of the day, and this city was big. Issa couldn¡¯t tell if the red brick buildings were homes¡ªif so, they were bigger than any homes he had ever seen¡ªor factories, but still, there should have been people about their day in either case.


    The only people he trotted past were more men in uniform. They appeared to be searching the buildings?


    There wasn¡¯t a single child in sight. Was the city being evacuated?


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    The deeper Issa moved into the city, the more likely it seemed. When he crossed a bridge over a channel, he spotted another werewolf on another bridge just down the channel, but still no one who looked like a citizen.


    The other werewolf was moving in the same direction as Issa, but more slowly. Limping? Issa lost sight of them before he could tell for certain.


    His own paws were protesting soon. They weren¡¯t made for cobblestones. It would have been nice to have boots to change into.


    Finally, he reached a plaza. Unlike the rest of the city, it was full of people, all of them burdened with as many suitcases, rucksacks, and bags as they could carry. All of them queued in front of a large building on the other side of the plaza. Issa heard a train whistle.


    In the middle of the wide open space stood a ramshackle stage, a woman on top. Below her feet stood more werewolves and guards, and it was there that Issa was dragged. He stopped in front of a man who couldn¡¯t look less like Lord Relentless: bright red hair and an equally bright beard, missing one hand. Shorter and older than Lord Relentless, too.


    Issa had never seen hair like that.


    The stranger asked something. Issa didn¡¯t understand, and he didn¡¯t know if a wolf could even speak. Yet he had no choice but to answer. The stranger dragged it right out of him. So Issa whined softly.


    The stranger cocked his head, frowning. He said something else, and Issa found his body changing all on its own.


    Was this stranger equally powerful as the moon?


    The transformation was as painful as any triggered by the moonphase. As long, too. When Issa climbed to his feet, a blanket landed on his shoulders, and he gratefully wrapped it around his hips to cover himself.


    ¡°You¡¯re Valoisian,¡± the woman on the stage said, speaking the Imperial language. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Issa. Lord Relentless told me to come find him,¡± Issa added. He couldn¡¯t see the lord anywhere, but perhaps it would help.


    ¡°When was that?¡± the woman asked.


    She spoke Valoisian like a noble. Or possibly a priest. Not that there were any priestesses.


    ¡°Before or after the death of Marshall Soto?¡± she added when Issa didn¡¯t answer right away.


    Before or after¡­ ¡°The marshall is dead?¡± Issa asked. They had killed Marshall Soto already? How?


    The woman nodded briskly. ¡°When were you bitten?¡± she asked again.


    ¡°I just went through my second full moon,¡± Issa said, because he didn¡¯t know how else to measure the time. ¡°I didn¡¯t count the days.¡±


    ¡°Are you here to fight for Loegrion?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Issa said. He didn¡¯t need to think about that question. ¡°Lord Relentless told me to find him,¡± Issa said. ¡°I thought it was to fight. I don¡¯t know what else to do.¡±


    He¡¯d been a soldier ever since his parents had been forced to volunteer him to pay off a debt. He had been hardly more than a boy then. Now he was one of the Empire¡¯s veterans. He didn¡¯t have much love lost for the Valoise, but he did hold a certain pride in his skill and experience.


    ¡°Very well,¡± the woman said. ¡°I am Lady deLande. Lord Relentless is my betrothed. I trust that you will follow my orders the same as his.¡±


    Issa didn¡¯t really think the one-handed stranger would give him any choice in the matter, but he said ¡°yes, milady,¡± anyway. She appeared to be in charge here, judging from the soldiers that were hanging back, waiting for her to finish with Issa to report. The last thing he wanted was to defy her in front of the crowd.


    He moved out of the way, retreating into the group of werewolves. He recognized some of them, fellow Imperial soldiers. The other half looked Loegrian to him, with the strange, almost white hair of the locals. They were staring at Issa and his fellow Imperials.


    He sidled up to a lieutenant who still wore parts of his yellow uniform, epaulettes included. ¡°Sir, may I ask where we are?¡±


    The officer jumped as if Issa had snuck up at him. His eyes had changed shape, and there was no white visible in them at all. His gaze darted everywhere but in Issa¡¯s direction. Just as Issa thought he wouldn¡¯t get an answer, the officer said, very quietly, very fast:


    ¡°Deggan, soldier, Deggan. Port city. Major port city. They¡¯re evacuating. Imperial Army is on the way.¡±


    ¡°Upstream of this river lies Deva, the capital of Loegrion,¡± added another man, wrapped in a similar blanket as Issa. His skin was a little lighter than Issa¡¯s own. His language marked him as another officer. ¡°We¡¯ll be taken there once the evacuation is completed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Sir,¡± Issa said. He wished he could understand what the lady was saying to the Loegrian soldiers. Issa watched as group after group walked up, gave brief reports, received orders, and hurried off again.


    ¡°They¡¯re reporting parts of the city cleared out,¡± the officer in the blanket said. ¡°Seen anything interesting on your way here? Like our troops?¡±


    Issa shook his head. ¡°Came straight here,¡± he said. ¡°Sir, is it true that Marshall Soto is dead?¡±


    ¡°He, and most of our¡ªtheir cavalry, yes,¡± the man said. ¡°Got bitten in that battle myself,¡± he added. ¡°The marshall thought he had Lord Relentless nailed down, and attacked without all his cavalry there. We would have ridden them down anyway, but they had another magic trick nobody saw coming.¡±


    ¡°So the Loegrians are winning?¡± Issa asked.


    The officer shrugged, tugging at his own blanket. ¡°That¡¯s the tricky question, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    He looked up at the lady, at the big building in the distance and all the people waiting in line to enter. It all looked very orderly. Another train whistle sounded, and a moment later, the line moved forward.


    It all looked very controlled, Issa thought, very purposeful. The officer looked more doubtful, but he didn¡¯t say anything else.


    Issa settled in to wait. It felt very familiar, just hanging around until someone else had finished their part of the operation. At some point, the lady left her post on the stage to talk to the people leaving the city. The one-handed one sat down on the stage, keeping all the other werewolves around himself. In his presence, it was difficult to even think about walking away. It just didn¡¯t seem to make any sense to leave the plaza. Not even to find some shade.


    When the lady returned, she had an entourage of four young men with her. They wore a different uniform than Issa had seen so far¡ªmade of simple, brown leather, not the rich red of the Loegrian army, or the silver and blue he had guessed was the city guard. Perhaps, this was some kind of militia? The leather clad guards were very young, barely more than boys, and they wore their leather armour like it was the first time.


    The four young men carried water, some hard tack and dried meat, which they passed out among the werewolves. The guards¡ªboys¡ªlooked nervous as they handed out the food, staring wide-eyed at the changed eyes of some of the werewolves, as if they expected to be jumped at any moment. But when he tried, Issa found it equally difficult to think about hurting anyone. Hard as he tried, he couldn¡¯t even bring himself to reach out to grab the hand of the boy offering him food.


    It was odd, the way his own arms wouldn¡¯t obey him.


    He thought the one-handed one had felt his intention, and that it wasn¡¯t malicious. The old man rolled his eyes at him, but didn¡¯t come down from the stage.


    It took three days to evacuate the city. When the werewolves climbed aboard the train after the lady, the final people to leave, it was empty. Entirely deserted. Including the livestock.


    The last thing Issa saw was smoke going up above the roofs.

 Chapter 210

    David swatted at the mosquitos circling his head. The White Torrent had turned into a creek that merged almost seamlessly with the surrounding bog, the border marked only by a narrow path. Created by wild animals, David reckoned. He saw deer in the distance.


    Animals, or Fenn.


    Despite the path, he had to lead his horse and probe the ground carefully to make sure it would carry the weight of an armoured war horse. Water collected in his footsteps.


    It couldn¡¯t be much further now. This looked like a perfect place for the Rot to bury in.


    In the distance, the white peaks of the southern Crucible Ridge shone bright in the sun. The ever smaller streams that came down from their slopes collected on this plateau to form the wellspring of the White Torrent. David would have worried about whether or not they had the ¡°real¡± spring in front of them, given how many tributaries there were, but Morgulon was very certain that they were in the right place.


    See, she commented, as a single giant wolf bounded over the marsh towards them.


    ¡°Glad to see he¡¯s still alive,¡± David commented.


    Fenn had lost weight since they had last seen each other, and the fur on his snout and shoulders was patchy, the skin underneath scarred. Mud and blood caked his fur. When he spotted David and his entourage, he slowed down. Only his tail wagged excitedly.


    You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Fenn said. Does that mean I¡¯m getting released? Why¡¯d you bring those three, though?


    We¡¯re going to create a Rot-queen to drive it at the Valoise, Ragna replied, before David could say anything.


    Fenn¡¯s tail stilled. He looked back and forth between the elders and the sacrifices. Pettau and Picot whined softly, while David thought deVries was praying. The traitors weren¡¯t really capable of communicating in their wolf forms yet, but there was a vague babble coming from deVries.


    You needn¡¯t have brought those three for that, Fenn said. I would have been forced to abandon the wellspring in another month or so anyway. Just turn around and wait for the Rot to do to the rest.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a month,¡± David said. ¡°The Valoise will be taking Deggan about now. They¡¯ll be ready to sail up the White Torrent within a few days. We cannot let them take Deva, too, or the whole north of Loegrion will be open to them.¡±


    He looked around. ¡°This is the spring, yes?¡±


    A few hundred yards more, if you want the densest spot, Fenn said.


    ¡°Dense how?¡±


    Magically speaking, I mean, Fenn said. Most troublesome.


    David craned his neck. He thought he saw open water sparkle in the distance. ¡°Show me.¡±


    Fenn shrugged, and turned around the direction he had come from. David felt the push as Morgulon forced the traitors to move after the guardian of the river, and wished she would push him, too. But he had to make his feet move all by himself.


    This was it. The final atrocity.


    Fenn followed the river. Flies tried to settle down on a nasty gash on his right flank. It looked very fresh, too.


    Careful, Fenn said, jumping over one of the rivulets flowing into the Torrent. It was muddy, and there was something odd about the plants growing at its banks. The colours of the flowers were all wrong¡ªa deep brown where yellow and white should have dominated¡ªand the shapes of the leaves were warped, too.


    David had only a moment to look, though. As the other elders reached the creek, the plants moved, retreating right into the ground.


    You couldn¡¯t have come to help me six months ago? Fenn asked.


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    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± David said. ¡°I should have known you¡¯d need support.¡±


    Especially after the battle at the Savre Camp.


    ¡°Thank you for holding the river this long,¡± he added.


    I hope you¡¯re not expecting me to stick around once you¡¯re finished with them, Fenn said.


    ¡°No,¡± David said. ¡°No, your job here is done.¡±


    They would probably need the Red to cleanse the spring. Or Morgulon at the very least. With help.


    There was a dead Rot-creature on the path, a strange merging of bird and fish, grown way beyond what the shallow waters should be able to support.


    Been fighting that all morning, Fenn said. What a waste.


    David kicked the thing with his boot. It looked like the kind of creeper even Greg could kill without much trouble these days.


    The power of the spring, Morgulon commented, before David could ask. The fur on her neck and back stood on end. You wouldn¡¯t have lasted another month.


    She moved past David, but stopped after a few more yards. There it is, she said..


    She had to mean the lake David had already spotted. It wasn¡¯t big, partly overgrown by rushes. On the werewolves¡¯ approach, birds flew up from the thickly growing plants, screeching as they went. David couldn¡¯t see any tributaries flowing into the lake¡ªjust the creek that came out of it.


    We¡¯ll wait here, Morgulon added. You want the middle of the pond, ideally. If you want to go through with this. One more good thunderstorm is all it might take.


    David looked up into the bright blue, cloudless sky. It was tempting to wait and leave it to the weather. Just hope for the best.


    ¡°No,¡± he said aloud. ¡°Let¡¯s get it over with.¡±


    As you say.


    Another silent command from Morgulon, and the three traitors began to turn human. David didn¡¯t watch their painful contortions. Instead, he took the silver shackles from Silly¡¯s saddle. He was ready long before the traitors managed to stand on two legs. He stared up into the bright blue sky again, blinked against the light, so he wouldn¡¯t have to watch.


    It was hard to muster hate for the three naked old men emerging in front of him.


    ¡°Please, please, please¡ª¡± deVries started as soon as he had a human tongue.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± David said gruffly, slapping the shackles on him. Pettau cursed him as he repeated the same with him. Picot didn¡¯t seem to see him until the silver touched his arms.


    A few more days, and he¡¯d be attacking David in a murderous rage, unstoppable even by Morgulon¡¯s powers.


    David dragged Picot forward with one hand, deVries and Pettau with the other. The silver made them weak as children, but did nothing to make them less heavy. Sweat ran down David¡¯s back before he had taken more than three steps.


    He hesitated when he reached the edge of the sedges and rushes that surrounded the water. The air was filled with the buzzing of insects. Static made the hairs on his arms stand up, and Alvin¡¯s ghost flared into appearance even brighter than the sunlight on the lake.


    The young werewolf walked ahead, right through the sharp leaves, to the middle of the lake. When he turned to look back at David, grinning wide, tongue lolling out of his mouth, the magic of the river made him look solid. Not real. Not alive.


    Like a sliver of the full moon turned into a wolf.


    Even the lake¡¯s surface moved when Alvin jumped up just with his front legs, as if he wanted to tell David to hurry up.


    Right.


    The water sloshed into his riding boots when David pushed forwards. The lake wasn¡¯t much more than knee deep, but he sunk into the mud to his ankles. The reeds cut through his dirty sleeves and skin. The naked men he dragged behind himself were cut up from their feet to their chests, their blood running into the lake, mixing with the dirt David was raising¡ªnot that it made a difference at this point.


    David reached for the knife on his belt, and Pettau¡¯s hair. The ground beneath his feet heaved before he even finished the motion.


    For a second, David thought he had slipped in the treacherous mud, but no¡ªthe water was rippling, and he was being pushed up, rising with the ground beneath him.


    The suddenly hard ground.


    One of the werewolves barked in the distance. Alvin jumped up from the lake, straight up, to land with two feet on the thing that was lifting David. Standing there with the other two feet in the air, the other two feet on¡ª


    It looked like a stone. A glistening black stone, vaguely oval. But then the stone hissed, and a slitted tongue, black as the stone, wrapped around Pettau¡¯s leg, pulling them both down before David could let go.


    He would have landed hard on his arms, but the water and the mud absorbed most of the impact. Black, oily waves closed over his head. The ground was still heaving, and he rolled, once, twice, as if he had been thrown from his horse in the middle of a hunt, pushing up as soon as he felt himself crashing into the rushes, cursing and spitting.


    The water burned in his throat, his eyes, on his skin. He tried to rise, but vertigo hit him like a freight train. He ended up on his hands and knees instead, barely managing to keep his head above the waves. Throwing up everything he had eaten in a week.


    The Rot was here.


    He hadn¡¯t killed either of the sacrifices, but the Rot was already here.


    And it was trying to swallow him whole.

 Chapter 212

    What David had thought was a black stone swung around on a long, equally black neck. It wasn¡¯t a stone at all. It was a snake¡¯s head. The head of the biggest snake David had ever seen.


    No. Not a snake either. A lindworm. A damn dragon.


    Nathan would be so pissed he missed this.


    It was a magnificent monster, covered in oily-black scales, with two strong arms and no other limbs. The head was big enough that he could have comfortably sat down on it, the body as massive as a tree. Each of the two gleaming golden eyes was as big as David¡¯s whole head.


    The teeth glistened in the sun, drops of venom gathering at the tip as the creature smiled down at David.


    So beautiful. Powerful.


    The tail wrapped around his chest, lifting him in the air, up to that beautiful face. Every scale was shining in the light. He wanted to touch the shimmering black scales. See if they felt as smooth as they looked. Prick his finger at the tip of those amazing teeth, feel if they were as pointy as they appeared.


    The lindworm hissed, forked tongue tasting the air. David had never seen a prettier snake. His ribs creaked, but the only thing that hurt was his right arm. The silvery scars there.


    In the distance, a werewolf howled.


    Morgulon. Had to be her, because the howl was enough to break through the spell and remind him that he was looking up at a bloody Rot-queen.


    A Rot-queen that was crushing his chest, squeezing the life out of him.


    David reflexively tried to breathe and couldn¡¯t move a muscle. His heart was beating so hard it felt like it was touching the insides of his ribs. His vision was turning white around the edges.


    He still held the knife, though. The silver knife. And his right arm was still free.


    Weakly, he moved it against the black scales crushing him. The blade shattered on contact, exploding in a flash of silver and crumbling steel. It didn¡¯t even mark the thick armour, yet David was thrown through the air, back into the swirling, stinky water. Back amidst the three sacrifices he had dragged here.


    Still bleeding magic into the lake.


    The three living sources of magic stood frozen in the blubbering liquid of the lake that looked nothing like water anymore. Thick, black slime was climbing up their naked legs like mould. As soon as David fell, it surged up his body, too. It was exactly as sticky as it looked. Like a thousand snails were climbing up every inch of his skin. Slow and cold and incessant.


    It still couldn¡¯t touch his arm. Where the scars glowed brighter than ever with Alvin¡¯s blood.


    David shook the arm, sending the black slush flying. It didn¡¯t deter the snails from climbing up his neck, towards his jaw and lips. He rubbed his mouth, buying himself a few seconds to breathe, while trying to push himself out of the lake with the other arm.


    He found no purchase. His hand simply sunk into the dirt¡ªtoppling him backwards. His head went under, just long enough for the black liquid to burn into his eyes and make him fear he¡¯d go blind. Then the dragon¡¯s tail wrapped around his foot, pulling him up again, dangling him in front of its giant face, upside down.


    Speaking to him like the werewolves did.


    Look at yourself, undoing everything your half-souled friends accomplished. A terrible glee filled the dragon¡¯s thoughts. For two centuries they have guarded this river¡­and here you are. Spilling their blood right in my wellspring.


    It shook its tail, shook David, like one might shake a purse to get out a coin that was stuck in the folds.


    Or maybe hoping to make him puke.


    David just hung there, too weak to fight or do anything else. His head pounded. He didn¡¯t even manage to raise his arms when the tail whipped through the air, smashing him into the lake. The surface should have been hard as stone at the speed David hit it, but it welcomed him like a cushion, dragging him under. The black slime muffled all sounds. Yet it felt like the dragon¡¯s voice came from right next to his ear.


    Look, it hissed.


    David wasn¡¯t sure if he had opened his eyes or not, but he did see. He saw a village, one of the ones he had burned with the werewolves: An assortment of half-burned huts, overgrown by twisted vines and giant fungi, populated by the dead livestock staggering around aimlessly.


    He didn¡¯t recognize the place. They had burned too many of them. After a while, they had all just blurred together.


    Before he could look closer, the village disappeared, reforming as a different one, and then another one, and another one, and on and on. All equally deserted. Equally overrun with the Rot.


    So much blood you have fed me. So much power. So much death, crowed the Rot-queen, just as David wondered if it would show him every single settlement he had the werewolves destroy.


    Instead, a single farmstead appeared, this one still inhabited. Rot-brutes were skulking around the building. The people inside sat frozen, staring out of the windows from hollow eyes.


    A lone werewolf, trapped in vines, struggling against the same oily substance as David.


    Marques de Burg, wearing a silver helmet, dragged down from Calder¡¯s back and buried beneath a pile of creepers.


    Trees walking across a field, marching on the ruins of Port Neaf.


    Werewolves, stalking a convoy of refugees.


    Picot. The black, tar-like substance covered his lower face, crawling into his mouth. It skirted the silver manacles on his wrists, which fell away from his arms as David watched, blackened and flaking, the iron core rusted away much quicker than should have been possible.


    Was this real? Was any of this real?


    It¡¯s all real, oh yes, the dragon whispered. Its voice was gentle, even kind. You did this. You made this possible. I will swallow this kingdom whole.


    The Rot-queen chuckled in his ear. All thanks to you.


    It ripped him out of the blubbering water, shook him out¡ªwaiting just long enough for David to take a shaking breath, and watch the real Picot fall to his knees, into the black soup. Then the queen dragged him under again.


    Witness what you did. Witness it all.


    The werewolves attacked the trek of refugees¡ªdefenseless people fleeing the war. Worse, David saw it through the eyes of the wolves. It was him, biting every bit of flesh in reach. Feeling the bones creak between his jaws. Tasting the blood on his tongue and wanting more. Killing humans and livestock alike in a mad fever, driven by an inhuman fury and hunger.


    He was every single man in the trek, too, desperately trying to defend his wife and children. Staring up at the towering beasts. Reaching for every weapon in sight, useless as they were. They were just farmers. They didn¡¯t have any silver. Just knives and sticks and some ancient muskets. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He was every mother huddling over her baby, hoping against all reason to hide them. Running into the fields until his legs gave out or the teeth clamped around his neck.


    Every child, crying and dying without understanding what was even going on.


    A thousand broken bones. A thousand deaths.


    Over and over and over.


    Had enough?


    It dragged him up, until he hung above the blubbering tar upside down, retching against the blood he could taste on his tongue, weeping with a pain that wasn¡¯t his. He would have screamed had he had the breath for it.


    The world was a blur of black and white around him. The ugly, oily bubbles popping like blisters on the surface of the lake were the only thing he could see clearly,


    He could still see the panicked faces of the children, the terror of the adults in front of his inner eye. Real or not, he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever forget them.


    Dimly, he was aware of four bright white lights hovering just outside the waters.


    They¡¯re waiting for you to surrender so they can kill us both, the Rot whispered.


    David snorted, sending a spray of the poison trying to climb past his lips flying. Was that supposed to scare him? Death? He rather wished the werewolves would get it over with. Or that damn worm.


    The Rot-queen towered over him, hissing. Laughing. Mocking him. Such valour. Determination.


    It could have killed him with one bite. Those fangs were long enough to pierce through his chest all the way, from his sternum to his backbone. The coils of its body curled and weaved through the water.


    All it needed was to throw itself at David, crush him under the weight of its body, or drown him in the mud.


    The head on the long neck swung left and right, looking at David from all angles. Probably wondering how best to kill him.


    He pressed his eyes close, swallowing against the bile that rose in his throat. He could still see the dead it had shown him.


    He felt the tail wrap around his chest once more, dragging him under.


    Drowning it was, apparently.


    When David opened his eyes again, he was home. Lying in his own bed, in his bedroom at Heron Hall. Staring at the antler-chandelier hanging from the ceiling. His clothes smelled of lavender. That was weird, wasn¡¯t it?


    ¡°What¡¯s weird?¡± George Louis asked, as if David had spoken the thought aloud.


    Slowly, David pushed himself up on his elbows. It was hard. As if a weight pulled hin back under the covers.


    George Louis sat in the chair by the window, reclining comfortably. Twirling his spoon in a cup of coffee before him, wearing a bathrobe and not much else.


    ¡°Are you saying I shouldn''t have let you sleep in?¡± the king asked.


    Children laughed outside. The sound made David jerk.


    George Louis¡¯s smile faded to concern. ¡°It¡¯s alright, David,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re home. You¡¯re done. The war is won.¡±


    He pushed at the chair across the table with his foot. ¡°Sit down. Have some coffee. Wake up properly.¡±


    Coffee. Coffee sounded great. It smelled delicious, too.


    ¡°Sit,¡± the king repeated. ¡°Drink.¡±


    It was hard, pushing off the soft bed, but he did sit up fully. Alvin¡¯s shade flared to life next to him, hackles raised, growling.


    ¡°Oh, stop it,¡± George Louis said, grinning. ¡°You¡¯ll have him forever. I just want him for a moment.¡±


    David pushed out of the bed and walked right through the ghost, letting himself fall into the chair. His body felt heavy. As if he were sick.


    Black as tar was the coffee George Louis offered him.


    Before he could reach for the cup, the door opened. General Clermont walked in, his one good eye gleaming.


    ¡°You swore an oath, Major,¡± the old man growled, swiping the cup right out of the king¡¯s hand. ¡°I haven''t relieved you of your duties yet.¡±


    The general chugged the coffee down, despite the wave of steam it blew into his face, setting the cup down with enough force to make it crack. ¡°On your feet, soldier.¡±


    ¡°Oh, stop bothering him,¡± George Louis said calmly but firmly. ¡°David. Just stay a minute. Drink.¡±


    He offered his own cup. It was very black coffee. It reminded David of something, though he couldn''t say what it was.


    ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t think I should,¡± he said slowly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to stay?¡± the king asked. He looked crestfallen. ¡°You don¡¯t have to go back. You¡¯ve done your part.¡±


    George Louis leaned forwards. The robe shifted, revealing the smooth, slightly tanned skin of his chest. ¡°Please, David. Just a cup of coffee.¡±


    George Louis took a drink himself, before offering the cup again. It did smell good.


    ¡°You swore an oath,¡± Clermont repeated. ¡°David Feleke, will you break the word you gave?¡±


    David sat up straighter. He had never broken his word. He wouldn''t.


    George Louis grabbed his arm with surprising strength before he could get up. ¡°If you go with her, you¡¯ll never find this place again. I¡¯m offering you the only peace you¡¯ll ever find.¡±


    Peace. Peace sounded nice.


    ¡°Remember when you took up the crossbow,¡± Clermont said. ¡°Remember why.¡±


    David stared at George Louis, at the smooth skin of his neck, his collarbones, the stripe of flesh of his chest visible beneath the robe. He didn¡¯t want to remember those first hunts, but the memory came unbidden.


    The forest was dark around him. His father¡¯s crossbow was too big in his hands. Every rustling leaf and every snapping twig made him jump. Terrified of the dark, of the monsters he couldn¡¯t see, the other hunters, the highwaymen, and above all, terrified to fail his family.


    They were counting on him. His baby brother would die if he didn¡¯t succeed here.


    ¡°They¡¯re still counting on you,¡± General Clermont said.


    ¡°Drink,¡± said George Louis.


    ¡°We¡¯re all counting on you,¡± Alvin¡¯s ghost whispered in his head. ¡°Someone has to do what''s necessary.¡±


    Right. Someone did.


    ¡°On your feet, soldier!¡± Clermont barked, at the same moment as George Louis threw the scalding hot coffee at him.


    Gasping, David came back to himself. Morgulon¡¯s lips¡ªher human lips¡ªwere pressed to his, sucking the Rot¡¯s essence out of his mouth, the spoiled magic.


    He could still taste it on his tongue, bitter and sour and sweeter than even fresh sugar cane. He wanted more. Wanted to empty the whole lake of the stuff, drink it all up. But Morgulon had gripped his throat, thumb digging into his jugular, cutting off his airway and making him gag.


    When he started retching, she pulled back, spitting out the sludge. Her eyes burned blue, but there were black veins underneath her skin, snaking outwards from her mouth, all the way to the scar on her cheek and temple. The hand holding his throat shook and she let go, hovering over him. Her whole body was burning with the same blue flame that had consumed Lenny.


    The memory pushed David¡¯s stomach over the edge. He barely managed to turn his head enough not to choke on his own vomit. Alvin tried to press his head below his arm, as if to lift him. David reached out to the ghost, but as always went right through him.


    He lay there, shaking and shivering despite the summer¡¯s heat. Every part of his body ached. Every breath was painful¡ªhe was fairly certain that the Rot-queen had cracked some of his ribs.


    The sweetness of the Rot¡¯s temptation lingered on his tongue, offering kind oblivion. All he had to do was crawl over to the water¡¯s edge and drink¡­


    David groaned softly. It was hard to push the thought away. The memory of the vision. Of the peace George Louis¡ªor rather the Rot-queen¡ªhad offered him.


    When he managed to prop himself up onto his elbows to see what was happening around him, Morgulon had transformed. The blue fire in her mane burned as bright as he had ever seen it. Like a brazier she stood between him and the Rot-queen. Fox and Laurent stalked its flanks. The huge head atop the long neck swiveled left and right, unable to keep all three elders in view at the same time.


    It didn¡¯t attack the werewolves.


    It took all David¡¯s strength to sit up all the way. Pettau, deVries and Picot were nowhere in sight. He couldn¡¯t spot Ragna or Fenn, either.


    Stiffly, Morgulon took a step towards the lindworm, staring up at the Rot-queen with the exaggerated eye-contact of a herding dog. She caught its gaze at the same moment as Laurent jumped forwards to bit the lindworm¡¯s flank.


    The weirdest thing was that it seemed to work. The lindworm ducked its head.


    Then it twisted around itself and took off, slithering away at amazing speed. Towards the distant mountains.


    ¡°Mithras¡¯s flaming balls,¡± David whispered.

 Chapter 209 +

    The road rounded the final trees, finally giving Marshall Allard a clear view of the open sea at the bottom of the cliff. He allowed himself a relieved sigh at the sight of the white sails over the glistening blue waters. An Imperial frigate was riding north on an easterly wind just a mile or so off the coast¡ªand it wasn¡¯t alone. Allard spotted more sails to the north and south.


    ¡°Never thought I¡¯d be this glad to see a damn boat,¡± a soldier behind him voiced what Allard was thinking, causing a tired chuckle to go around the group of Allard¡¯s staff officers.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell Admiral Ducrot I said this,¡± Allard said, ¡°but I have to agree.¡±


    It truly was a beautiful sight.


    The navy was watching the coast. Most likely keeping up the blockade of Loegrian harbours, too. And most importantly for Allard¡¯s personal health, the ships meant that there was a chance they had relayed at least some of his many reports to the Roi Solei. If they had, supplies and possibly even reinforcements might be already on the way.


    And even if none of the messengers had reached the ships and Valoir, communication with the mainland was now possible. There¡¯d be healers aboard too, who hadn¡¯t yet been squeezed dry like lemons. Who could practise their craft in the security of salted planks.


    Allard sighed again at that thought. He felt old. Ancient, in fact. Every muscle in his body ached in a way he had never experienced before. A persistent malaise had him shivering in the saddle. Made him feel weak. Fragile.


    He feared it was another effect of the Rot. Or perhaps it was the curse of Loegrion taking a hold of him.


    He had survived thirty years in the service of the Empire, most of that time spent in one campaign or another. He had travelled all the reaches of the earth. He had seen natural diseases and magical maladies and curses. But he had never seen whatever this was. Despite the Empire¡¯s best alchemy, every little cut led to infection, and even a burst blister had laid him out for a day because the bleeding wouldn¡¯t stop until an exhausted healer had managed to close the wound.


    Even the prince, who had a healer all to himself, had nearly vomited himself to death when he had caught one of the myriad sicknesses of this cursed country. He hadn¡¯t left his carriage in a week.


    All Allard could hope was that he¡¯d feel better once he was back at the mainland. It was getting exhausting to put up a brave face in front of his soldiers. He couldn¡¯t afford to be seen flagging. Not while the men endured worse.


    It actually made him miss Soto. The man hadn¡¯t had much sense, but he had been good at driving the men onwards, no matter what trials lay ahead.


    It was only thanks to the madness of Lord Relentless that desertion was hardly a problem. There was nowhere for the men to run, no no-man¡¯s-land to hide out at. Allard supposed now that they had reached the coast, the sea¡¯s sanctification might entice more soldiers to try their luck.


    The thought made him glance over his shoulder, at the endless snake of soldiers marching up the gentle slope he had just ridden up. They were moving in good order, and at a decent pace¡ªat least considering the many sick they couldn¡¯t afford to leave behind for fear of feeding the Rot, and the countless beasts of burden they had lost.


    Allard turned back into the other direction, towards the distant frigate. The road was leading up another one of the bloody cliffs that made landing troops on these cursed shores so difficult. He spurred his horse, and the rest of his staff followed him.


    When the group reached the top of the cliff, Allard had them hail the frigate. A signaleer stepped right up to the edge of the cliff, holding two bright blue flags with a white accent in the middle. When the signal officer was ready with his looking glass, the soldier waved his flags up and down to each of his sides for a few seconds, then lowered them again, waited, before repeating the signal.


    Allard had to fight against the urge to step up right to the edge of the cliff too, as he extended his own looking glass. That would have just risked obscuring the signaleer or the signal officer¡¯s line of sight. Allard¡¯s hands shook as he waited for the ship to answer. It seemed to take forever. As row after row of the vanguard marched past them, more officers gathered, taking out their own glasses. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Glory to Mithras,¡± Allard whispered when finally, he spotted two red dots jumping up and down between the sails and the deck¡ªthe answering signal. He reckoned the frigate was just out of range for effective communications, but his signal officer was younger and apparently had better eyes. Allard could barely make out the movements while the major was quickly rattling off letters to a scribe.


    It took some back and forth, but eventually, the signal officer announced: ¡°There¡¯s a village with a harbour just to the north. They¡¯re offering to meet us there.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Allard said.


    He couldn¡¯t wait.


    He expected the signal officer to relay that answer right away, but the man was already staring through his spy glass again, giving letters to his aide to write down.


    ¡°They¡¯re also going to hail the rest of the fleet,¡± the signal officer added after another minute of hasty scribbling.


    ¡°Good man,¡± Allard said. ¡°Ride with me. I want a report of everything they sent.¡±


    He waved to the rest of his staff to get moving again. A fishing village. He couldn¡¯t wait to get there. But first¡ª


    He turned to a young captain. ¡°Ride ahead and catch up with the leading troops. They may requisition whatever food that fishing village has, but under no circumstances are the villagers or their boats to be harmed. We may need to requisition more food from them soon.¡±


    At least the fish would be fresh, unlike their supplies.


    ***


    Deggan was on fire.


    Allard stopped his horse in the middle of the road when the city came into view. He had known what to expect¡ªthe pillar of smoke had been visible ever since they had left camp in the morning. The fire must have started sometime late on the day before.


    Now that the city was close enough that he could distinguish individual ruins, the stench and the ash in the air made even the trained war horses prance. Allard gently patted his gelding¡¯s neck to calm him down.


    ¡°Madness,¡± the prince whispered from next to Allard. ¡°Has everyone in this whole country gone mad?¡±


    ¡°I suppose so,¡± Allard said.


    His hands cramped around the reins as he prompted his horse to move onwards. Towards the burning city.


    He couldn¡¯t shake off a flicker of worry.


    According to the army¡¯s intelligence, Deggan had been a city of several tens of thousands of souls. There was no way that Lord Relentless on his own had convinced all those people to run¡ªand if he had used his werewolves to drive them out, the Grande Arm¨¦e should have come across at least some of the refugees.


    The fact that the outriders hadn¡¯t caught or even seen a single living Loegrian indicated that the evacuation had been orderly. Organised. That there was a place for all those displaced people.


    And not just any place. A place which they felt gave them a better chance of survival than throwing themselves at the mercy of the Imperial army.


    It also indicated that the Loegrian leadership thought there was still a point to going through all the effort of evacuating cities. That there was some point to burning down so many homes.


    Which was mad. Allard turned to look behind himself, at the snake of soldiers marching steadily north. The sight filled him with pride. Despite the Rot and the werewolves and the weather and the sicknesses and the bloody Lord Relentless, his men were still moving like a well-oiled machine.


    Now, that was relentless.


    And it made the evacuation and burning of Deggan all the stranger. How far were the Loggies planning to retreat? All the way across the Argentum Formation?


    Wouldn¡¯t that be nice. They could have the plains for all Allard cared. His orders were to take Deva and restore the Roi Solei¡¯s rule within its former borders.


    He straightened in the saddle, looking down at the city. A few surrounding villages on the way had been burned to the smouldering ground, with just a few stone foundations left. There was no army in sight, not even a place for a larger group of werewolves to hide.


    It seemed too easy.


    Once the Grande Arm¨¦e had taken Deggan, all of Loegrion was open to them. They would sail straight up the White Torrent to Deva, take the capital with the reinforcements he had requested last week as soon as he had linked up with the navy. Which should be getting on the ships just about now.


    Then it was just a matter of squashing out the resistance in the south and around Mannin.


    Allard had expected a fight to take the harbour, maybe another werewolf trick¡ªjust something else but smoldering ruins.


    This felt too much like Erkford. Like he was being handed the city on a silver platter so he wouldn¡¯t look elsewhere. But where wasn¡¯t he supposed to look?


    ¡°I want outriders scouting the land as far out from the city as the Rot will let them,¡± Allard ordered. ¡°And I want the city scouted, too, as soon as the fire allows it.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t going to have another bridge blown up in his face. He wasn¡¯t going to be surprised by invisible werewolves like Soto, either.


    Not even by Lord Relentless.