Wolf's-own: Weregild Page 17

  "They've never guided him,” Joori objected. “They've only ever—"

  "And how d'you think he ended up here, with the very Temshiel who's got more reasons than anyone else in the world to want Asai dead? How d'you think he decided to put you into our hands? And however dangerous it may be for you to be in our hands, it's still safer for you than being in Asai's.” Umeia shook her head, strangely sympathetic. “Whether they said so in words or not, the Ancestors have guided him. For whatever reason, they wanted him here, they wanted you here. And now that you are, their Voices have been silenced."

  Joori thought about it for a moment, just to make sure he wasn't hearing it wrong. “Are you saying you want him to be driven mad by them?"

  "I'm saying that your brother's fate has been interrupted. So has yours. He's supposed to listen, Joori. It's what he's for."

  "You're talking about him like he's not even a person,” Joori grated. “Like he's nothing but a tool for everyone else to use. You sound just like—"

  "They've found your mother, lad."

  It stopped Joori cold. And she'd known it would. For that, he could have throttled her.

  "Where?"

  Umeia's eyes were intense now, far more keen and bright than they'd been before. “Exactly where Malick has known all along they would."

  "Wh... what?” Joori couldn't gain enough breath to even suck in a good lungful.

  "I have to give him credit,” Umeia went on, like she wasn't crushing Joori's heart in her fist with every word, “he did everything right. He sent out his probes first, did his investigating, gathered his information.” She paused, lifted an eyebrow, her half smile almost condescending but not quite. “Let your brother see him do it all."

  The implication was all too clear: “He set him up,” Joori breathed.

  "See?” Umeia said softly. “You are a clever lad.” She stood, paced over to Joori slowly, her pointy shoes clicking and clacking on the polished floorboards. Her hand took hold of his chin gently, lifting his face up so she could look into his eyes. “Your kind were never meant to have magic,” she told him. “No mortal is, but some have earned the right—the Jin didn't have to. The Temshiel abandoned the Ancestors when they gave their magic to you, and then the Temshiel assisted the Adan in trying to tame it. That's what your Binding War was really about."

  Joori's throat clogged on a negation he couldn't quite voice, unable to do anything but keep his gaze locked with Umeia's. He couldn't even jerk back from her touch.

  "Malick fought on the side of the Adan,” she went on, relentless. “So did I. All Temshiel did, because that was what our gods commanded. But the rest of us walked away when a balance was struck, because that's the way of it with us. The Adan and the Jin have perhaps come to an unhappy standstill, but Malick has never stopped fighting the war, even when he was refusing to fight at all.

  "What Asai wants to do would turn the Jin's slavery to regency. Do you understand what that means?” Umeia was fervent now, almost like she'd forgotten she was even talking to Joori, merely ranting to excise whatever anger had too obviously been boiling in her chest. “The Jin and the Adan would switch places. Your people would no longer be hunted, slaughtered, bled.” She took a long breath, as if to calm herself. “They would not direct themselves, granted, but they never have, really. They've always had their Ancestors for that."

  She pulled back and tilted her head to the side. A knowing smile curled at her mouth, and she waved a hand at the door, just as a soft knock gently rattled the wood. Umeia placed a finger over her lips, gave Joori a wink.

  "Enter!” she called.

  Joori almost jolted when it swung open to reveal Shig on the other side of it, but Umeia's hand clamped on his shoulder, keeping him still. Shig peered at him with no surprise, only a bit of sadness in her green gaze. For some reason, it had the feel of admonition to Joori, and it was all he could do to meet her eyes squarely.

  Shig turned to Umeia. “I expect you know what I've come for."

  It was colder than Joori had been expecting. For all that he'd only “known” Shig for a very short while, he'd rather judged everything she did or said as abstractly passionate: listening to her spirits and following their guidance because she believed in their truths. Even when she'd been taunting Jacin into a mental breakdown, Joori had still been able to tell that she'd felt something, that she wasn't doing it just for fun.

  This cold remove seemed... strange on her.

  Umeia didn't seem to notice or care. She merely reached behind Joori to a small black chest on the vanity, whispered a quiet spell he couldn't hear until the lid popped open, and then she extracted a chunky, flashing ring. Without a word, she tossed it to Shig.

  Shig caught it, still with that hard gaze, nearly glittering now. She closed the ring tight in her fist. “So, it all comes to this, then. Gentle, secondhand betrayal, ‘for his own good'.” She shook her head when Umeia only sighed, her own expression almost as hard as Shig's.

  Shig turned to Joori, her mien softening, dipping sad again. “Perfidy is perfidy, Fen Joori,” she said softly. “All sides in a war can be justified. It only depends on which side you're standing when the justifications start spilling from angry hearts.” She turned back to Umeia, eyes going narrow. “And exactly where the betrayals began.” She held Umeia's gaze for a long time—so long that Joori began to wonder if they were holding some kind of mental conversation and had forgotten about him entirely—before Shig turned a sad glance on Joori. “Love gives even the weakest among us the power of cruelty,” she told him, her jade eyes harder and sharper than Joori thought he'd ever seen them. “And nothing rends a heart so cruelly as the misjudgment of it by one who is supposed to know it.

  "Their souls are ever dipped in blood. It's their way—not ours. A bargain with a Temshiel, a bargain with a maijin. It's all the same. It all depends on the Temshiel.” A shrug. “Or the maijin.” She cocked her head to the side, gaze somber. “Either one will betray you for their own ends, even if they love you. But betrayal of the Blood....” Her eyes slid over to Umeia again, accusing this time, though with a strange glimmer of mourning at odds with the severity. “Hasn't he endured enough?” she whispered, and Joori had no idea if she was talking about Jacin or Malick.

  Shig sighed and stepped over to Umeia. “Yori loves you hard, but in the end, our Blood wills out. She isn't yours. She's mine. I'm sorry.” A long look passed between them, another silent conversation, then Shig leaned in, kissed Umeia's cheek. Umeia shut her eyes, her chin quivering as Shig laid her head to Umeia's shoulder. “Goodbye, my Wolf-mother. You've weakened the pack, but I still love you."

  Umeia was silent, but the grief coming off her was almost as strong as the burst of power Malick had thrown at Joori two nights ago. Joori wondered if this was part of her power—making others feel what she felt—and whether she even realized she was doing it, but his heart was actually hurting, and he didn't even like these people.

  Umeia hugged Shig tight for a long, long time, until Shig pulled away slowly. Shig turned, and with one last quick look at Joori that he couldn't read, quit the room, shutting the door softly behind her. “Blood wills out, little earth-bound,” Shig said through it, and then it was silent.

  Umeia stood rigid for a few uncomfortable moments, gathering herself. “Well, then,” she said briskly, and only then did Joori realize that she hadn't said a single word while Shig had been in the room. He had no idea what to make of that, but she wasn't nearly as together as she wanted Joori to think she was. She wavered a little as she made her way back over to the bed and inelegantly dropped to the edge of the mattress.

  "I have just handed over your brother's salvation and his noose, all in one.” She said it so softly that Joori thought perhaps he'd heard wrong.

  He frowned, asked, “What?” his own voice flat and hollow.

  "She's right,” Umeia said, as though Joori hadn't spoken. “Betrayal is a common thing for our kind. Love is rare. But, oh, I do love my brother."


  "Brother?"

  Umeia smiled, soft and sad. “Malick,” she clarified. “He's my brother."

  Right. Yori had told him that, had apparently only recently discovered it herself, and had been strangely awed over this new additional facet to the people who made up her “family."

  "I love my brother,” Umeia went on. “Just as you love yours. And just like you, apparently I'm willing to betray him to save him, even though I never would have believed it last week.” Her hands curled into fists. “And he hates me for it, but at least he'll be alive, he'll have his soul."

  She stood abruptly, paced in front of Joori. Her smile turned... scary, for all the grief packed inside it. “The Ancestors have led the Catalyst here, they've led you here, and all of this heard by their Voice through their shouts of insanity. So, tell me, clever Jin lad: what do you think the Ancestors would say to their Voice now? How would they guide him next, if only he would hear? If someone was not right this second handing him the key to never having to listen to them again?” She stopped right in front of Joori, grabbed hold of his chin, and jerked his head up, her eyes hectic, nearly blazing. “Would they ask for pseudo-salvation for their children, or another century of misery?"

  Joori opened his mouth, but Umeia gave his chin a sharp shake.

  "Think very carefully, Fen Joori, because you may be called upon to make the same decision for yourself."

  She was terrifying in her heartrending anger. And just like it had been back in that hut when Malick had shown up, Joori couldn't move. He had no idea if he was truly frozen, or if Umeia was using some sort of magic to keep him that way, but he couldn't make himself move or look away.

  "Salvation,” he heard himself answer, low and breathy, and completely unlike his own voice, and perhaps it wasn't, but it was the truth nonetheless, wasn't it? Anyone would choose salvation.

  "Salvation,” Umeia echoed, tears filling her eyes before she blinked them away, turning her firm grip on Joori's chin to a soft caress to his cheek. “Yes.” She took her hand away and turned her back on him. “Malick hasn't seen clearly since your brother walked into my House,” she told Joori, her arms going about her torso, hugging herself. “And the rest of them are all his, even Yori, though it's going to break her heart to choose.” She shook her head, then bowed it. “Why d'you suppose it is that you and I are the only ones who can see?"

  Something went cold in Joori, spangled out into shivers he only just managed to suppress. This one scared him even more than Malick did, and having his own thoughts and feelings compared to hers... it unnerved him. And the things Shig had said....

  It had been a mistake to come here. It had been a mistake to think he knew what the fuck he was doing, that he could outguess these people, that he had even the smallest chance against them.

  He swallowed, his throat only squeezing out a dry clicking sound. “I'm not sure I know what you mean,” was all he could think to mutter. Because he honestly didn't, and he had a feeling it was going to be important that he understand whatever this was very clearly.

  Umeia turned around, all the sadness abruptly dashed, her entire being gone hard and cold again as she leveled an even stare on him. “Malick loves him, but he can't save him. And the only way either of them can save himself is to let go.” She shrugged, like none of it really mattered, like she could stop caring, just like that. “There's nothing we can do, lad,” she told him. “You came to me for answers, and there are none. None of us truly owns our own heart. The only things we truly own are our choices. Go now, please. I want to be alone."

  "But....” Joori stood, fear giving way to renewed anger. “But what choices?” he all but shouted. “I don't know what you're talking about! How am I supposed to choose something when I don't know—?"

  "I never said anything about your choices,” Umeia cut in softly, then she stepped over to the door and swung it open. “Best get along. They'll be done soon, and you don't want Malick knowing where you've been."

  "But—"

  "Go, Joori. I've had all I can take of this mortal business. Leave me to my own."

  Joori had no choice. She wasn't to be argued with, not now, and if he tried, he had no idea what might happen. He didn't know these people, and he only knew enough about what they were capable of to be afraid.

  He left, finding himself once again out in the hallway, in the same spot where he'd started, staring at the door again. Love and betrayal; cruelty and salvation. What the hell had just happened? And why did he feel even more unsettled and confused than he had before he'd come? And why—even though Umeia had done nothing he could truly define as “magical” and yet had still managed to nearly terrify him—did Joori find himself feeling oddly sorry for her?

  "You're not a new boy,” said a soft voice to his right, “are you?"

  Joori turned, found that same young man who'd cheerfully pointed him to Umeia's door standing just down the hall. Doe eyes, lightly kohled and slightly smeary, blinked at Joori with a sadness that hadn't been there before. The boy's pale skin was dewy, the ends of his silky black hair wetting dark splotches on the neck and shoulders of his robe.

  Joori's mouth flapped. “I....” He didn't know what to say. He wasn't even supposed to be down here, wasn't supposed to let anyone see him, so how was he supposed to explain himself?

  "I didn't realize until I was halfway through my bath, but....” The boy paused, eyes narrowing. “Umeia would have introduced you about. I would have met you already. So, that means you're not a new boy.” Soft eyes gone slightly sharper looked Joori over, appraising. “And you don't look like a customer."

  Shit. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  "You're Malick's lover,” the boy went on, softly accusing, but mostly disappointed, his dark hair falling over his pale brow as he blinked his pretty eyes at Joori. “You're the one he was talking about."

  It was all Joori could do not to turn his head and spit on the floor. Not only for being assumed Malick's lover, but for the fact that apparently Malick had been talking to this young man about Jacin. Like he had some kind of right.

  Amazingly, Joori managed to keep at least most of his wits. “I, um... I'm not sure I should—"

  "No, you probably shouldn't.” The boy sighed and gave Joori a small smile.

  Not so much a boy, now that Joori was paying attention—he was probably a little older than Joori himself—but his manner and his wide eyes made him seem so. He likely got more trade that way, Joori thought with a little bit of discomfort. With a languidness that was probably ordinarily seductive, but now just seemed to be the young man's natural state of being, he leaned his shoulder against the wall and shrugged.

  "I knew I couldn't keep him. Everyone knows they don't get to keep Malick, but they all try."

  And how had Joori known that Malick was a promiscuous asshole? It figured. What was it about Jacin that attracted the most reprehensible sorts?

  The young man was looking Joori up and down, as though trying to figure out what Malick's new “lover” had that he didn't. Still clad only in that silky robe, dark hair tousled and damp, and his stance a study in seduction. Joori had never looked twice at another man, but he'd make an exception for this one. He was already making an exception for this one.

  An unconscious toss of the head, though it did no good—the boy's thick hair flopped back over his brow and into his eye again almost instantly. “He said you're what he's been looking for, for a very long time.” It was said with a bit of skepticism, but mostly curiosity.

  Joori did not loose the derisive snort that was knocking at the back of his throat. Of all the predictable kiss-off lines.

  "He didn't say you were Jin."

  That one made Joori start, and his eyes narrowed a little. If this young man was jealous and thinking to take some sort of vengeance, go running for the Doujou—

  "Don't worry yourself.” The boy smirked; it was almost friendly, rather than mocking, as Joori would have expected. “I'm half Jin myself, and have just as ma
ny reasons for wanting to stay out from under the Adan's eye. Aren't fake papers a wonderful thing?” A sudden grin flashed his small white teeth. “I wouldn't have even mentioned it, only I thought it was interesting."

  "Interesting how?” Joori asked, strangely not frightened, or even uneasy anymore in the presence of this young man who thought Joori was Malick's lover.

  "Interesting because he must really love you to risk so much for you."

  Joori almost winced that time. Umeia had said that Malick loved Jacin too. Except she'd also said that Malick couldn't save him. She'd said a lot of things, in fact, and so had Shig, and Joori hadn't yet had time to figure out how much of it he believed.

  The boy's smirk came back, turned a little sly. “You're very beautiful, you know. I imagine that's what caught his eye. You'd have quite a flock of admirers if you were a new boy."

  It was so strange, standing here and listening to this young man speak to him like he was Jacin. Giving him Jacin's compliments, flashing him Jacin's smiles. It made Joori wonder what Jacin would do if he were the one standing here, listening to this apparent former lover of Malick's tell him he was beautiful and he'd make a good whore. It depended on which Jacin, Joori supposed—the Jacin he'd grown up with would likely have blushed and cast his eyes to the floor, mumbled polite thanks and edged away as quickly as possible. This new Jacin, the one it almost made Joori sick to admit he didn't really know anymore, this new Jacin would probably glare the boy into silence then stalk past him without looking back. Maybe even flash a knife at him to keep him from ever attempting conversation again.

  Joori couldn't see himself doing any of those things.

  "I'm sorry if you've been... hurt,” he told the boy, surprised at how sincere it felt.