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  "I'd order a hundred."

  "Fifty would probably kill them, knowing the way Caimbeul likes to see the blows delivered."

  "I doubt that."

  "Caimbeul uses silver. High-grade silver spikes braided into each of the lashes."

  "Ouch. Kynyr flinched at the thought.

  "Kady needs to be there when Donald and Iollen receive their punishment. She needs to let all the wet-tailed dogs know she's not weak ... that what happened to Cormic was not pure luck."

  "I'll talk to her."

  "Good. Todd stood up to leave.

  "Wait. I have a question."

  "What?"

  "Do you think twenty-one is too young to settle down ... get married? I mean ... you were in your thirties when you and Gram..."

  "Only because it took me ten years to track her down. You have someone in mind?"

  Kynyr had always found the story of how Todd had searched for Cahira romantic. The disastrous conclusion to the Lycan Rebellion had separated them, and yet Todd had kept searching until he found her again. Kady."

  "Are you certain this isn't just a taste of the Wild Cousins?"

  "I'm certain. I just need to convince her."

  "Well, don't do it the way I did your Gram. A naughty boy smile erased the years from Todd's lined face. I switched her herbs and landed her one in the belly."

  "Uncle Trevor?"

  "She still held out until two months before he was due. She looked like an overripe melon walking up the aisle."

  * * * *

  The skull of Ellie Remus, cleaned and glazed by the best artisan in Hell's Widow, rested upon a shelf of the bookcase in Heironim's office as a memento mori. Alexander Jondries surreptitiously studied the room, masking his irritation behind long lashed eyes half-closed as he tapped his steepled forefingers against his lips. Heironim had turned the office into a macabre shrine to his murdered whore. Before Jondries found Ellie's remains, the room had been decorated in Heironim's usual shades of greens and mustards; now everything was black from the carpets to the curtains and the cushions on the chairs and sofas.

  Heironim spent more time obsessing on Ellie, than on the twenty-five myn they had lost to Kynyr Maguire's as yet unidentified rescuers. Jondries had lost two close friends, Dorjan and Nelek, in that ambush gone wrong. He wanted answers and Heironim showed no interest in looking for them.

  "You can't be certain that Doyle killed her."

  "He was her last customer that night. Heironim drummed his fingers on his desk and stared at her skull. He did it."

  "No one saw either of them leave the Crimson Lady."

  "They went out the window ... obviously."

  Jondries leaned back in his chair. What if one of them survived? What if Ellie told Doyle your name? She was tortured ... after all ... I assume interrogated. I think you should keep off the streets, Heironim."

  "Malthus is coming in two days. We'll know then. Heironim rose and went to the bookcase. He took Ellie's skull down and kissed it. Murdering bastards. If any of them are still alive, I'll get them."

  A skeptical frown lined Jondries narrow forehead. I can't understand why you're getting so upset over a lycan whore."

  Heironim spun about and glared at Jondries. I loved her."

  Jondries fell silent for several minutes. He disliked lycans almost as much as he did the gutter trash he had once been forced to feed upon. Coupling with them seemed like bestiality to Jondries. You don't have enough myn to achieve anything. We have only fifteen myn and five sa'necari besides ourselves. Our soldiers barely classify as veteran and the sa'necari can't even be considered middle rank. Sidera sent them so we could finish their training ourselves. It would be suicide to throw them at the lycans."

  Heironim's scowl deepened. I have the will, so there must be a way."

  The defeat of his units under Dorjan at the bend in Pendarke Roadwhich the lycans called Cataract Roadwhere they had ambushed Kynyr Maguire had hurt Heironim's endeavors in Hell's Widow, putting an end to his efforts to close the road to travel. He could have recruited a few wandering sa'necari through the waystation concealed in the Devil's Dance Inn; however, Malthus had forbidden it. The only sa'necari recruited had to come by way of Sidera Tyrins estate in the far north, vetted and trained by her. Messengers had been sent to Sidera, but no replies had arrived yet.

  Although Flavio and Heironim's other spies in the Crimson Lady kept him informed about Silkie, he chafed under the restraints placed on him by Jondries logic. Until they could ascertain whether any of Maguire's party had survived the ambush, and if they had, how much they knew about Heironim's operation, he did not dare show his face in public. He had considered having her brought to him, but that would have entailed risking her learning the identities of his people.

  Heironim felt certain that Silkie was playing some kind of lone hand against him, but there was nothing to do about it until consulting Malthus.

  "Jondries, let Flavio know that I wish to be informed of any irregularities in Silkie's behavior. And she is not permitted to have visits from lycans."

  "So you will stay out of sight for the time being?"

  "As much as I can."

  "You need a rite to steady yourself. Shall I have one prepared for you?"

  "Yes. I'll be down to the altars shortly. Put it all in order."

  * * * *

  Kady Wiggins had done everything she could think of to make herself less attractive since becoming Cahira Sinclair's apprentice. She had cut her flaxen hair two inches all over, only to have it turn into a mop of curls as soon as she washed it the first time. She had switched from wearing dresses to going about in loose drawstring trousers and baggy shirts. However the broad leather belt that supported her pair of fighting knives and pouches cinched the shirt in and revealed her small waist and the generous curves of her classic hourglass figure.

  She sat at the kitchen table, reading a book. Kady knew that she risked discovery by bringing it with her, but she had a basket of knitting close to hand where she could shove the book into hiding if anyone walked in. She found it hard to stop reading, even though it contained many large words that she had absolutely no idea what they meant. Instead, she kept a small tablet with a list of the words penciled in that she failed to recognize.

  Kady closed it at the sound of footsteps. They turned away and she glanced down at the title stamped in gold leaf across the top:

  Early Lycan Marriage and Sexual Customs.

  The volume had a long ribbon attached to the top with which to mark her place. Kynyr was getting entirely too pushy; he kept stalking her, stealing kisses, sometimes going as far as to brush his finger across her nipples, and he had already proposed marriage twice.

  She did not want to lose him; nor did she wish to give in too easily. She held fast to the old dictum that a dog had a right to ask and a bitch had a right to say no. Kady wanted to find the most complex ancient courtship custom that ever existed, and use it to slow Kynyr down. She was not ready to either get married or open her legs to him. The rapes still bothered her more than she wished to admit to. Killing Cormic had brought her a sense of limited closurea closure that would be complete when the rest of her attackers were laid in their graves: Donald Greenlea, Iollen Newell, and Gorgarty Burr.

  Having to constantly look words up in that huge dictionary that Cahira kept in the library, where the elder bitch did most of her translations, slowed Kady's search down a great deal. She would read a section, make a list of the words, look them up, and then re-read with the meanings in mind.

  " The Wild Cousins Courtship, as stipulated in Divine Law, handed down by the First Mother. That looks promising. Kady added three more words to her list.

  "What are you reading, Kady? Kynyr limped in with his cane.

  Kady straightened and covered the book with a dishtowel, edged it to her basket and shoved it under a bright red square of knitting.

  Kynyr raised an eyebrow and reached for the basket. Are you hiding one of Todd's naughty books? Hmmmn?"

  "None of your business. She slapped his hand.

  Kynyr reached again for the basket. Bribe me."

  Kady tangled her hand in his long hair and kissed him thoroughly. Satisfied?"

  "Yeah. Kynyr grinned, and settled on the opposite side of the table. Now I know it's a naughty book."

  "You know nothing of the sort, Kady said tartly, stood up, grabbed the basket, and carried it to the counter where she set it close to the stove. Using a towel, she jerked the oven door down and took out a nicely baked pan of meat pies.

  * * * *

  Cahira removed the bar and unlocked the door of her shop. As the tiny mage stepped out onto the boardwalk to greet the day, a tiger-striped cat darted into the shop. She blinked, startled by the creature's boldness, and followed it inside.

  The cat wrapped around her legs, purring.

  Tossing her long graying braid of blonde hair over her shoulder, she knelt and stroked him, scratched behind his ears. My but you're a big boy. And so pretty."

  The cat reared up, put his paws on her shoulder, and licked her face.

  "I wonder what your name is? Cahira extended her powers to see if there was any residue of a past owner and a name tickled her thoughts. Kerry. Someone called you Kerry. It's a nice name."

  She picked him up and he clung to her shoulder as she carried him upstairs to the kitchen. Such a pretty, pretty."

  Kerry's rumbling purr sounded pleasant to Cahira's ear.

  She set him on the floor. Kady turned from cutting slices of salt pork up to add into a pot of beans for flavoring. What have you got there, Gram?"

  "A cat."

  "Well, I know he's a cat ... he's the biggest cat I've ever seen, except for Kenly of course."

  "His name is Kerry."

  "Another K. Kady chuckled, cut off some extra pork, and dropped it in a dish, which she placed on the floor for the cat.

  "You know how Kenly got his name, don't you?"

  "How? Kady squatted and watched the cat gobble the pork up.

  "Darmyk wanted to name his cat Kynyr, but couldn't pronounce it. So it came out Kenly. The cub has always adored Kynyr."

  Kady laughed. That still doesn't explain Kerry here."

  "I touched him with power and found that name hovering around him. So Kerry must be his name."

  The teakettle had steam pouring from the spout. Kady took it off the fire, filled the teapot with hot water, and put the lid in place to hold the heat in while the tea steeped. What does power feel like?"

  "Why are you asking?"

  Kady felt suddenly uncomfortable. Why seemed to be Cahira's and Todd's favorite word. Because I think I've felt it sometimes."

  "When did this start?"

  "The day of Eideard's funeral. I went to check on Kynyr, and I found Malthus standing over him with his fingers on Kynyr's chest. And the room felt strange."

  Cahira's eyes darkened. He has some kind of mage or Reader's gift. He tried to Read me and I slapped his face. Reading someone without their permission is quite rude."

  The cat stopped eating and stared up at the two bitches with sharp interest.

  "Do you think he's sa'necari? Kady persisted.

  "Anything is possible with those monsters. He's been Read by many and no one has detected his being anything but human. Otherwise, he'd be spellcorded like the others."

  "But could he be sa'necari?"

  Cahira poured a cup of tea, adding cream and sugar. Her eyes went distant as if trying to put her finger upon an odd and elusive fact. Yes. According to some works I have translated, the mage Brandrahoon created rings of concealment for his brother Waejonan to protect the leaders of the sa'necari cult from being detected while they were working to conquer the tribes of Waejontor."

  "The same Brandrahoon that became a vampire?"

  "Kady, your lack of knowledge appalls me. There has only been one Brandrahoon. The sa'necari regarded his evil as so terrible they declared that his name could never be given to another. According to St. Tarmus of Lorendon, Brandrahoon's namewhich means fire-dragon in an ancient tonguebecame a brand of infamy that would stand forever."

  "He must be terrible indeed if even the sa'necari fear him."

  "He is and they do. I have never completely bought into the belief that to say the true name of the beast was to draw his attention. However, I don't bandy it about either. Best to call him simply Hoon. I studied for a year with the foremost expert on Hoon. One day I will tell you all of it."

  The cat bolted across the room to the kitchen window and leaped out of it.

  Kady laughed. I think all this talk of sa'necari and vampires has scared the cat."

  "He probably saw a bird. Cahira extended her hand. Put your hand in mine. Have you ever been Read for the gift?"

  "No. Kady placed her hand in Cahira's. Will it hurt?"

  "Not at all. However, from now on I must endeavor to cure your ignorance. Whenever you run out of tasks in the shop, I want you to read. But I'll pick the books. Cahira's Readers gift examined Kady with greater thoroughness than ever before.

  Kady felt the searching magic tingle through her muscles, warm her veins, and tickle like a profusion of butterflies in her stomach.

  "You have the gifts in profusion, Kady. You have a fully developed mage-net; several of your shaukras are very well developed. The secondary nervous system is very strong."

  Kady sucked in an uncomfortable breath. Are you saying I'm a mage?"

  "That's precisely what I'm saying."

  * * * *

  Malthus Estrobian needed to put several matters in order before his next visit to Hell's Widow to check on his units thereor what was left of them. He had walked the line of heads tacked to the scaffolds on the Commons three weeks ago and recognized several of his best operatives. He had not managed to learn precisely what went wrong. Four elite units had been sent out, comprised of five sa'necari officers and twenty Waejontori humans, to ambush four lycan guardsmyn returning from Hell's Widow. Two of the lycans had died, and the other two, although wounded, had survived. One of the survivors had been that thorn in his side, Kynyr Maguire. Maguire's grandfather, Todd Sinclair, and his mage wife Cahira, claimed responsibility for wiping out the force that attacked their grandson. A broad spectrum Jump had brought the wagon and all of the dead and wounded from the bend in Pendarke Road to the street in front of Cahira's shop. Their story seemed off, but Malthus could not discover the missing component to it.

  In an attempt to fit in better among the lycans, Malthus had adopted many of their styles; wearing his silken black hair in a tail at his neck, rather than oiled and braided like his own people; and kept his oak leaf beard and long mustaches well-groomed. However, there were many things that he could not change, such as the color of his skin: a dark bronze that made him stick out among the fair-skinned lycans like the proverbial sore thumb. Even the light olive complexion of the so-called black lycans looked pale compared to Malthus.

  The chieftain's hatred of the sa'necari ran bone-deep. His two sons had been captured and executed by the sa'necari following a lycan rebellion eighty years ago that had been efficiently crushed. Malthus stroked the unadorned golden band on his right hand, which he never removed. If they did decide to gaze in his direction, the powerful spell of concealment on the ring would cause him to be Read as human, preventing the foolish lycans from realizing that he was one of the hated sa'necari. Spellcording him would not affect the ring because it was an inanimate object. Even if a yuwenghau Read him, they would not be able to pierce the enchantment, for a yuwenghau had embedded it into the metal.

  He shook himself free of those musings. He had schooled himself into ignoring the ring in public as if it were nothing important, nothing to draw the eye to it.

  Only a male lycan could rule Clan Red Wolf, Merissa, her mother, and her aunts were effectively removed from inheriting Claw's title. Darmyk could not inherit it because, although he was Claw's grandson, the boy had been born sa'necari like his father. Malthus, passing for human, could not rule either; however, his influence in the household had grown. He had disguised the genetics of his children growing inside Merissa's lovely belly, making them appear to the Readers as lycan.

  The logical male to be given regency for Merissa's children was Belgair, Claw's Captain of the Guard. Malthus had Belgair in his pocket, and figured that he had all the angles worked out. All that remained to be done was to kill Claw in a way that could not be traced back to him.

  Doubt whispered through his thoughts, reminding Malthus that there were other claimants. He doubted that Brock Redhand, Claw's brother, would return; and even if he did, Brock was nearly as old as Clawjust another feeble old lycan easily disposed of. Kynyr Maguire was another matter. If push came to shove before Malthus got an opportunity to kill him, the illegitimacy of his father's birth would work against them just as Malthus own bastardy had disallowed his claim to the titles and estates of his father Lord Feodras.

  He had been promised lands, great wealth, and a title of nobility by the Waejontori Queen, Tomyrilen, through her agent and advisor, Lord Brandrahoon in exchange for subjugating the lycans here and assassinating the ruling Redhand family. They had not specified how he should do it, but a large force of arms had been provided to him and were currently raiding the northern hamlets and steadings. Malthus planned to rule this valley, and with Claw dead, the rest would be easy.

  He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a chain with a set of globes on it in various colors. Malthus selected the green one, tapped it twice with a word of command, and three small crates appeared on the desk. He looked through the contents of one crate and pulled out six bottles of Tormuth Whiskey, a Creeyan single malt that had a well-deserved reputation for smoothness, flavor, and potency. More deadly presents to give his father-in-law.

  Malthus sketched a runeactually a sa'necari ideogramon each bottle. His magic flared and the rune burned brightly for a moment before fading into invisibility. The curse on the bottles was very specific: it only affected Claw Redhand, the chieftain. Anyone else who drank it would experience no ill effects; however, the death spells were slowly accumulating in Claw's body like poison, and contributing to his heart problems.