Kynyr's War

The Redhand Manor house had elaborate gardens surrounding the back and east side. A large barn and stables swept out to the west side of it, blocking the view of other barns and storage buildings. The simple practicality of water troughs and hitching posts in the courtyard contrasted sharply with elegance behind it. Blue veins shot through the chinked pale yellow stone of the manor house.

The three-story structure was not as large as some sa�necari manors, but it had sixteen bedrooms in the main part and an equal number in the servants� wing. Lycans did not build their homes for defense. They counted on stopping invaders before they reached the houses and generally, they were alerted by the packs of true wolves, the wild cousins that freely ran their valleys, which were defensible areas in and of themselves.

Kynyr dismounted in the yard of the manor. Lanky Georgie Rogan came out of the barns and took the reins of his horse. The head groom's gaunt, weathered face held a full measure of sympathy and concern.

"I'm sorry about your father, Kynyr."

"Thanks, Georgie." He gave a nod and kept walking. His insides were tied as tight as knots in a rope.

Kynyr let himself into the manor, hoping to avoid as many people as he could. He should have known he could not avoid Kissie, who popped out of the kitchen drying her hands on her apron.

She was a nibari, one of the genetically altered humans created by the vampires and sa'necari as cattle, bred for thousands of years for complete docility; they were the soul of compliance – unless directed otherwise by their masters. The Redhands preferred to call them servants, but in reality, they were slaves.

Kissie's ample bosom, revealed by the hang of the drawstring neck of her blouse, heaved and she flicked back a strand of blonde hair. "Oh, Master Kynyr, I'm so sorry."

All he could do was nod, his lips tightening.

When he started past the door to the Great Hall, his spiritbrother, Finn MacIver stepped out of it. "What happened last night?"

Kynyr stopped, his head lowered. "War in Longbranch. They killed Duggan. One of your cousins got sliced. If you want details, go talk to Todd. I can't handle it right now."

He managed to reach the second floor without encountering anyone else, only to have the one person he had the least desire to see appear in front of him.

Malthus emerged from a room and stopped in the hallway. "I'm sorry about your family."

Kynyr's lips twisted back in a snarl and he spit in Malthus' face before he could stop himself. "You killed my father."

Then he started walking again, giving Malthus no opportunity to respond to the accusation. Kynyr had no proof that would stand up in court, only Baroucha's dying words: 'Malthus knows. He'll kill you. He'll kill you all.'

"Not if I can help it, Baroucha," he muttered under his breath.

He nodded at condolences and shrugged away from attempts at comfort. There was only one person he wanted to talk to and he knew where to find her – the only member of the ruling Redhand family who knew who and what he really was: Aisha Redhand, the chieftain's wife.

Coming on top of his fresh losses, Caimbeul's brief interrogation concerning the murder of Baroucha Seaver had thrown Kynyr off stride, making him more determined than ever to hold himself together while matters remained uncertain. Having thrown the gauntlet in Malthus face, Kynyr would wait to see if his enemy picked it up. He felt trapped by rules and laws, and with Caimbeul breathing down his neck, Kynyr could not afford to simply call Malthus out – at least not until he had more solid proof of what was going on.

He schooled the grief and uncertainty from his face, stride, and carriage. He ignored his throbbing leg, focusing so far past it that no sign of his usual limp remained.

Pausing at the door to the Rose Room, he knocked.

"Come in." Aisha's voice carried an edge of strain and Kynyr wondered what was going on.

The Rose Room was regarded as Aisha's private preserve; small – by the standards of the manor – decorated in deep shades of rose and mauve. A mural covered the south wall of lycans at a picnic in the middle of a rose garden the males in hybrid form and the females in human while true wolves romped around them. The wall hangings were all of pastoral scenes. Sofas and chairs formed half circles around three low tables, upholstered in matching rose brocades. A woven reed basket, containing knitting, occupied the corner of a sofa. Aisha sat on that sofa, knitting. She straightened and adjusted her skirts.

Aisha Redhand had gone grey with age. Very little of her youthful brown coloring remained in her heavy hair. The legendary beauty had long ago faded from her careworn face, replaced by a maternal warmth that continued to draw people to her.

Claw could call her spiky and crotchety all he wished; Kynyr never would. There might be a side of her that he had never seen, but he doubted it.

"I'm only here for a bit, Gramma. My family needs me." He sat down on a chair close to Aisha. He only called her 'Gramma' where no one could hear.

She set her knitting aside, leaned forward, and patted his knee. "I'm so sorry about your father. I wanted to meet him … see what kind of mon my son had sired."

"You would have liked him." Kynyr tried to smile, but grief and anger gave it a bitter twist.

"Is that what you came to talk about?"

"No. I'm trying not to think about it. When it's not so fresh … I'll tell you about him." Kynyr clasped his hands together and glanced off at a point on the wall. "It's a selfish subject I want to talk about."

"Kady?"

Kynyr gave a small nod. "Life becomes more precious after a loss … and I've had too many of them this year."

"During the Rebellion, my heart broke with every death."

"Last night, as we were helping with the wounded … Kady Called Courtship. Now what do I do?"

His great-grandmother was the only person he could talk to who had had a Wild Cousins' Courtship. The custom was ancient and had largely fallen out of favor, replaced by various things adopted from the human realms, including the practice of brideprice. Kady had found the custom in an old book, mistranslated and invoked it before either of them fully understood the possible ramifications of doing so, locking them into an extraordinary situation governed by Divine Law. They had a time limit on it, and were entering the final phases. Failure meant exiling himself from Kady's presence – forever.

"A step in the right direction."

"She keeps putting me off about changing." Kynyr had to chase her through the forest in wolf form for the right to mate, repeating a pattern of chase and capture until he quickened her womb – only then would they be allowed to marry.

"So, you want to persuade her to change?"

"How did Claw get you to change?"

"Well, it was a far different situation, Kynyr." Aisha's expression turned thoughtful and slowly dissolved into crafty. "Gifts. Wine. Exercising in the nude?"

Kynyr flushed. "You're joking."

Aisha laughed and patted his knee again. "Not at all. It worked for Claw."

"Thanks, Gramma. I'll try all of them."

GODWAR CENTRAL

Kynyr's War