Gail Martin - Dark Haven

"Thank you," Jonmarc said to the small group that clustered around him. The rest of the vayash moru slipped out in twos and threes, clearly no longer in the mood for a social occasion.

"It would hardly do to hold a party in your honor and take you home dead," Yestin said with a cheeriness Jonmarc found difficult to emulate.

"Under the circumstances, I can't let you leave tonight," Gabriel said. "There are rooms upstairs where you'll be comfortable. Once it's light, I'll have a mortal escort for you. Uri's not strong enough to attack in daylight without destroying himself, and none of his brood is old enough to even think of moving about when the sun is up. You'll be safe come daybreak."

"It's going to get dark again tomorrow, you know."

Jonmarc thought Gabriel looked troubled. "I've put the oldest and strongest of my family at Dark Haven for that very reason. I don't think you'll have any problems-at least, not on the manor grounds."

"Arontala got in."

Gabriel looked away. "That was before my oath to the Lady."

Rafe, Astasia and the other guests were gone. The members of Riqua's and Gabriel's families drifted out of earshot. Jonmarc sat on the edge of a table, wondering if he looked as pale as he felt. "If he'd been mortal, I'd have said Uri was drunk."

Riqua grimaced with distaste. "In life, Uri had a taste for absinthe and dreamweed. As vayash moru, neither affect him. But if he drinks the blood of someone intoxicated with either, it creates a similar effect." "One of Uri's bodyguards didn't join the fight."

Riqua turned away. "Malesh. He's the worst of the lot-and for Uri's brood, that's saying something."

"Malesh is old enough in the Dark Gift to be dangerous, and young enough that he doesn't truly understand the power, or the limitations." Gabriel moved to a cabinet on the far side of the room and returned with a goblet of brandy, which Jonmarc accepted gratefully. The strong liquor steadied him.

"What's in it for him?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No one knows. Rafe hopes that Uri is all bluster. Uri may be- but I'm not so confident about Malesh. Uri is vain and arrogant. Malesh is hungry and clever. It's a bad combination."

"Astasia's question, about Carina. Do you think Carina will be in danger if she comes to Dark Haven?"

Riqua and Gabriel exchanged glances. "I •don't think that either you or Carina should leave the grounds of Dark Haven without a guard," Gabriel said. "Astasia's goal isn't overthrowing you. Bedding you, perhaps."

"Not interested."

"Don't worry-Astasia's hardly the type to pine. She enjoys the chase. Astasia may try to bait Carina-she'd enjoy giving the impression that there was something between the two of you. But I don't think she has any reason to do harm. She tends to pick the men who offer the least resistance."

"I'll talk with Rafe," Riqua said. "He can be damnably hard-headed, but he's got to recognize that Uri's pushing this too far. We didn't get rid of Arontala just to raise a new threat inside the Council itself." She signaled to her brood that it was time to leave.

The great hall was empty now, except for Jonmarc, Yestin, Eiria, and Gabriel. "There may be some dried herbs in the cook house that could make a poultice for that," Gabriel said with a nod toward Yestin's bruised check.

Yestin shrugged. "It'll heal. There's something else that concerns me more. The Winter Kingdoms haven't recovered from the fight to bring down Jared the Usurper. Had Martris Drayke not succeeded, it wouldn't have been long before every kingdom was at war- against Margolan, or on. its side. Now, the Council and the Truce are wavering. And there'll be more questions to come. I've heard that King Martris will have to go to war against Lord Curane before too long. There are vayash moru.in Margolan who intend to go with him. That will strain the truce or break it completely."

"Even the Sisterhood isn't what it once was," Eiria added. "The Flow's unstable, and getting worse. My people can feel it. It makes our shifting all the more difficult. When it's out of balance, the Flow's power favors blood magic, and light magic becomes harder to control. That bodes-badly for King Martris. Lord Curane is known to employ dark mages." She paused. "There are some among the Sisterhood who aren't ready to return to their citadels. When King Martris goes to fight Lord Curane, Sisterhood mages will go with him, whether the Sisterhood approves or not." "I'm not following your point," Jonmarc said, sipping his brandy.

Yestin turned his violet eyes on Jonmarc. "The point is that the old ways are in flux. Old bonds are being broken. The alliances that kept an imperfect peace for hundreds of years are fracturing. These are dangerous times. My people know something about shifting. One is never more vulnerable than when one is between what was and what will be. The war isn't over yet. It's just changed form."

"Then the Lady help us all," Jonmarc said, feeling a sudden chill despite the brandy. "Because we'll need it."

DEEP IN THE forest, the hunter stalked his prey. The trail was clear. The smell of fear and sweat was heavy in the cold night air. Broken branches and fresh footprints left a path easy to follow. This night's quarry had given him a good run. The prey had been resourceful, at first. Now, panic overtook reason. The hunter smiled. His kill was near.

Malesh did not need to signal the other two uayash moru who hunted with him. This was their sport, and they were masters of the craft. Gradually, the circle would tighten. The prey would realize he was being herded. Malesh smiled. Soon, very soon, it would be over.

He could hear their prey stumbling ahead of him. The man sounded like a wounded bull. Malesh had watched this one for some time. Big and overconfident, stupid and cruel, no

one would miss the man. There were already rumors in his village that he had something to do with the children that had disappeared, that he'd been responsible for his wife's bruises and black eyes. Malesh ran his tongue across his lips in anticipation.

Malesh spotted his fellow hunters in the forest shadows. The end was near. Even from a distance, Malesh could sense the big man's disorientation. The fear would make his blood all the sweeter. The truce with mortals had always given vayash moru free reign to kill human criminals of the worst sort. Some villages staked their murderers and their child-stealers beyond the outskirts as an offering to the vayash moru. But the Blood 'Council's truce mandated that the kill be quick, painless. Tasteless. Malesh's tongue flicked over his sharp eye teeth. Terror brought an edge to the blood that was lacking in a quick kill. Exertion gave the blood a headiness like champagne. Bullies and sadists were the sweetest. Perhaps they knew that they deserved no mercy, having granted none to their victims. Or perhaps their true fear was of the Crone or the Formless One, to whom their sullied souls would certainly go for judgment. Whatever the reason, by the time Malesh was done with' them, their victims would have been avenged a hundredfold. Though vengeance was hardly Malesh's goal.

The three vayash moru closed their circle, and their prey caught sight of them. At first, he brandished his weapon, but the vayash moru to Malesh's right disarmed the man, breaking his wrist in the process.

"Whatever you want, take it!" the man cried, falling to his knees.

"We will," Malesh replied. Even in the cold air, the man's hair was wet with sweat. None of the vayash moru showed any sign of exertion.

"Mercy, please!" the man begged.

Berenn, one of Malesh's fledglings, reached down and lifted the pudgy man by his doughy throat. "What would you know of mercy?" the young man asked coldly. Held in his unbreakable grip, the man gasped for air, his feet dangling inches off the ground. "Did you show mercy to any of the children you've buried in the woods? Any mercy to that wretch of a wife you beat?"