Gail Martin - Dark Haven

Riqua took his meaning clearly. "A tomb can be a haven, and a haven can be a tomb. Fate has as much as the Lady to do with it."

Jonmarc sensed no threat from Riqua, but he struggled to keep his expression impassive at her words. A warning?

Just then, a man and a woman joined them, and Gabriel made room for them within the circle of conversation. Both were dressed in black without ornamentation. The man looked to be near Jonmarc's age. He had dark, shoulder-length hair and a neatly cropped beard. The woman was of similar age, but her dark hair was flecked with gray. Both the man and the woman were trim and lean-muscled. When Jonmarc looked up, he met the woman's violet eyes.

"May I present Yestin and Eiria," Gabriel said, and the man and woman nodded in turn. "Not members of the Blood Council, but, shall we say, visiting nobles who have an interest in seeing Dark Haven restored."

"A pleasure to meet you," Jonmarc said. Eiria smiled, and Jonmarc noticed that she lacked the long eye teeth of the vayash moru. Her violet eyes seemed to see right through him, and he shuddered, remembering the wolf.

"Our families have watched over the Lords of Dark Haven for generations," Yestin said, taking Eiria's arm. "Many of our kin died in the service of Dark Haven. We offer our

welcome, and our deepest wishes for a long and prosperous tenure."

Jonmarc did not mention the fact that the last lords of Dark Haven had not lived long enough to enjoy their holding. But before he could think of a reply, Yestin and Eiria slipped away in the crowd, moving with dancers' grace.

"And this is Lord Rafe, with his second, Tamaq," Gabriel said, shifting Jonmarc's attention. Rafe carried himself with military bearing. He had short-cropped, sandy-colored hair and a perfectly trimmed beard. With him was a pale young man with the look of a scholar or a priest. "Your reputation precedes you, Lord Vahanian."

"Which reputation is that?"

Rafe smiled, showing the tips of his eye teeth above his lips. "Many. I have kin in Eastmark. They were witness to Chauvrenne. And the ways of the Nargi are well known to our kind. You've survived the kind of trials many vayash moru have not. Perhaps the Lady's hand is on

you." "If so, She has an odd way of showing it." Rafe's expression was unreadable. "Always." "I understand you were in the presence of the Obsidian King himself," Tamaq said.

Jonmarc nodded. "I saw the battle when Tris destroyed him."

Tamaq's eyes glittered with a thirst for information. "Then at some other time, we must talk. In my mortal life, I fought against the Obsidian King at his last rising. But I never personally saw him."

"Count yourself lucky."

Rafe made a parting bow. "We have much to talk about, Lord Vahanian. Be well." At that, Rafe and Tamaq moved back into the press of the crowd. Jonmarc felt more than heard a presence behind him.

"You must be Jonmarc Vahanian."

Jonmarc turned to face the speaker. She was a beautiful woman with chestnut-colored hair. Her face and form looked to be that of a girl in her twenties, but the woman's eyes spoke of centuries. She was on the arm of a young vayash moru who looked to be barely out of his teens, pale even by vayasb moru standards, his pallor heightened by his curly red hair. "I'm Astasia, and this is Cailan."

Jonmarc bowed and kissed Astasia's hand. Cailan watched with a look of distaste bordering on jealousy. Astasia giggled, seeming to enjoy Cailan's discomfort, and let her fingers tighten around Jonmarc's hand. Her thumb stroked his palm provocatively.

"So you're the new Lord of Dark Haven." She made no secret of looking him up and down. Cailan's eyes darkened, but he said nothing. "You must visit my home. I give the best parties," she said with a glance toward Gabriel and Riqua which clearly said they were not among her guests. "You're more than

welcome to spend the night." Both Astasia's manner and her eyes made the double meaning of her words expressly clear.

"Your invitation is gracious," Jonmarc replied, hoping he could be half as diplomatic as he'd seen Tris be in similar situations. He guessed that spurning Astasia's proposition outright might not bode well, although her offer did not appeal to him in the least. "There's a great deal of work to be done at Dark Haven before winter. It doesn't leave much time for parties."

Astasia's eyes narrowed. "I heard you'll be bringing a guest back from the royal wedding in Margolan. Even among our kind, Lady Carina's reputation is well known. Will she be staying long?"

Jonmarc disliked the undercurrent to her voice. He kept the same neutral expression that had let him win many a hand of cards. "That's up to Lady Carina."

Astasia smiled and laid a hand on his arm. "My offer still stands. Bring her, too, if you like. I'm flexible." She let her hand slip over his in parting. Cailan's eyes made it clear that he did not second Astasia's welcome. Jonmarc's throat was dry as Astasia moved away through the crowd, and he was grateful for the glass of brandy that Gabriel offered.

"That's all of the Blood Council except one," Gabriel said. Jonmarc made a mental note to ask him later what the role was of the Council's seconds. Bodyguards? Consorts? A little of both?

In one corner of the huge room, a string quartet played courtly music. In addition to the Blood Council and their seconds, many other vayasb moru mingled, carrying goblets of what looked to be red wine. Jonmarc was quite sure it was not. Although the candles sparkled and the fire danced in the fireplace, the reception was notable for its lack of food. Except for me, Jonmarc thought darkly. Maybe I'm the guest of honor and the main course. Cailan looked like he'd have happily gone for my throat.

All of the Blood Council had seconds, except for Gabriel. Jonmarc knew that Mikhail, Gabriel's second, was in Margolan, helping Tris rebuild his army. Tonight, Yestin functioned as Gabriel's attache. Eiria was never far away. Jonmarc watched the pair with interest. The vayash moru treated the young couple with deference. If I'm right, and those violet eyes are the same as the she-wolf.

"Yestin and Eiria are shapeshifters," Riqua said. She had come up beside him so quietly that he startled. "There are small clans of them in the Black Mountains, not far from here."

"Then the wolves-"

"Yes. They're vyrkin. The wolf-clan's alliance with the Lord of Dark Haven goes back many generations. That's not true of all the clans."

"There are more?"

"Each clan has a totem animal whose spirit they honor and from whom they seek wisdom. Most shifters can only take one shape. Some, the unlucky ones, can shift into many shapes."

"Unlucky?"

Riqua watched Yestin and Eiria. "Over time, the shifting becomes involuntary. Eventually, the shift becomes permanent. Most shifters die young or go mad. It's worst for those who can take many shapes."

"I thought that sort of thing only happened on a full moon." '.

Riqua's eyes darkened. "For many generations, shifters were hunted by superstitious fools who believed so. Those who were hunted and tormented by the light of the full moon- if they survived-found the sight of that moon triggered their pain, forcing them to shift. When that happens, they lose their memory of time and know only that they must defend themselves, even when no threat is near. They become a danger to all. Eventually, their pack has no choice but to destroy them."

"Being mortal doesn't seem so bad, compared to the alternatives."

"While it lasts."

Behind them, the doors to Wolvenskorn slammed open. "Where is he? Where's the Lord of Dark Haven?"

The questioner was a dark-haired man with the coloring of a Nargi native. His voice was rough and his features lacked the same fine breeding of the rest of the Blood Council. The man's clothing made an extravagant show of wealth compared to the relatively subdued elegance of the other guests. Gold necklaces adorned his throat, and heavy rings covered his fingers. With him were a half dozen young men who moved with predatory grace. The crowd made room for the group to enter, parting with a palpable distaste.