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Cold Blood

A Story by Onyx Tao

I, Dacien by Onyx Tao is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://onyx-tao.sofurry.com.

Chapter Fifteen

Harsh Regret

Magda suppressed a cry as the needle slipped on the smooth leather and pierced her skin, instead. A tiny drop of red formed, but she didn't stop sewing. If anything, she knew, the blood would make the thing better. It had seemed so wonderful, months ago, almost miraculous, a kind of salvation from the gripping poverty of a single mother and a small daughter. She could have sold her daughter. She should have sold her daughter; Elaine was healthy, even at five, and ... she could have found a senator, or a knight, or a precinct consul to buy her, it wouldn't have had to be to a brothel. But no; starving, begging, desperate, she'd found she could spin straw into gold.

Or at least cotton into silk, slowly. For a poor starving woman, that was as good as gold, and maybe better. Gold would have been questioned. Nobody would believe it was hers. Silk, though ... they'd think she'd stolen it, and ask no questions. She'd told nobody, of course, not a soul, not Elaine, not the factor, nobody. She'd just quietly bought rough cotton, carded it, spun it - and sold the fiber to a merchant. It looked like silk, it behaved like silk, it dyed like silk - and she hadn't even said it was silk. She'd just asked what is worth, and sold it, and even being cheated by the merchant, the price put clothing on her back, food on her table, even - after she managed to accidentally 'discover' how she was being cheated - rent for a room, a nice room, in a clean building, even backing onto fireplace so one wall radiated wonderful warmth ... it has seemed so perfect, for her, for her daughter. It had been perfect.

She glanced fearfully at the monster by the door; this one was dull white-black, peppered, lithe and ferocious and just waiting for her to stop, or even slow, and then it would come to her ... but the thin, slender needle they'd given her was meant for embroidery; for the finest silk thread and the closest, tightest weaves. It wasn't meant to punch through leather - not even the weak, supple leather she was sewing. Going too fast would break her needle. Her only needle. Going too fast risked its breaking, and without it, she could not sew. And then the monsters wouldn't need her.

And then monsters wouldn't need Elaine, either.

She'd discovered that she could do the trick to other things.. She could clean water by pouring it from jug to jug - she'd discovered that pouring the muddy trough water into a bowl - it had been less muddy. And then she knew ... somehow ... how she'd done it, and she'd done it again, and again, and again, until she turned the cloudy brown to sparkling clear water, as if she'd walked half the day to the public fountains, and gotten her water there. Not that she couldn't do that, of course ... but she didn't have half the day. Or the coins to buy a barrel, or even to have a water-merchant fill it for her if she had the barrel.

There was a word for what she did.

Witchcraft.

And if anyone had found out ... they'd have stoned her, and not all the little tricks she knew could have saved her or her daughter, so she'd kept them quiet, quiet, quiet, just enough to survive, to eat regularly, maybe to freshen some water for drinking. She was too scared to try anything else, and when it happened by accident it terrified her. Pouring wine, for example. She ought to have known better, but the rough sour wine was almost palatable; she'd convinced her landlord that the innkeeper must have tapped a good keg by mistake, and so he said nothing. She'd thought she was so fortunate, that she was so hidden, just selling threads. She'd never imagined that monsters would come for her, creep up to her cozy little cot, steal in ... she'd woken as someone had gagged her, blindfolded her, a rough voice told her to be quiet ... that she wouldn't be hurt. She'd thought they were bandits, after silk. The truth had been worse, once she realized her captors weren't human.Monsters? She'd never imagined monsters, not until she heard Elaine scream and then stop suddenly and ...

But they'd told her that her daughter was all right, and she believed them. She had to, she couldn't imagine - wouldn't imagine - that they might be lying. Why would monsters bother to lie? She couldn't bring herself to wonder why monsters might bother to tell the truth, although recently she'd starting wondering in her nightmares.

At least she had sunlight to work in. They might keep her in a cave, but the monsters had mirrors that reflected light from the outside into her prison, and she could see what she was doing. She wished she couldn't.

She knew only too well what kind of leather she was sewing; the monsters had made it clear when they told her what they wanted. Told her! They hadn't said a word, she'd just ... known. What they wanted her to do. Now. Faster. Hurry.

There were at least four of them. Pepper-gray, who was laying at the door, on a makeshift bed of skins. Blue-Eyes, a gray one with, well, blue eyes. Careful, who moved slowly and with great caution, as if moving hurt him. And the other ... she hadn't named him. He'd only stopped by twice, briefly, to look at her, and the ... the thing she was making for them.

And then ... then ... what would happen after she made it?

That was another thought that bothered her. They wouldn't need her then, either. Or Elaine. And ... she knew about them, the monsters that prowled the countryside, stealing people and ... and ... and ...

Eating them. She didn't think she was supposed to know, but ... she'd caught that, from one of the ones that took her, growling to the others that she wasn't much of morsel, he didn't see why they bothered, not with a scrawny thing like her.

The more she thought about it, the more she was certain that after she'd finished, after she'd made the thing, after they had it and it worked and a monster could crawl into it and look just like a normal person - that's what would happen. One of them would yank her head back, and bite out her throat, and then ...

She looked up from the thing. Pepper-gray looked like he was sleeping, but ... she didn't think he was, and even as she paused, the monster turned to look at her. She wanted to scream, but ... that wouldn't help.

It looked like a dog, like a big, fluffy, friendly, dog, only ... a dog that could walk on two feet, with hands, and teeth and yellow-black eyes that were frighteningly intelligent and that looked at her, however friendly, as a meal. No, not friendly at all. Like a farmer gazing happily at a prize pig, thinking about autumn, and sausages for the winter. Not friendly at all.

Work. Get back to work. No time.

She wasn't sure how she knew what it wanted, what it was saying, because it didn't say anything, nothing beyond a slight growl to get her attention, but there was no mistaking what it wanted. She pulled another fitted piece, began sewing - and a snap sounded through the cave.

She looked in horror at the broken needle, and then up at the monster coming towards her - she held out the needle in the desperate hope that he might -

All she saw in his eyes was anger. She threw the half-completed skin at him, tried to run around him, escape before -

But he had her, and then there was a pressure on her head, no, inside her head, and then -

Darkness.

"You are awake," the voice said. It was deep, with a burr in it, but at least it was a voice. She tried to open her eyes, but something was over them. Her hands went to her head, only to be stopped. "No, not yet. Soon, but not yet. Here. Drink. It is tea, human tea."

Human tea.

Which meant ... she was talking to a monster. She felt around, trying to understand where she was, but ... it was somewhere new. It smelled of earth, but not the cloying scent of the cave where the monsters had prisoned her. Furs, like the ones Pepper-gray had lain on, she was on lush furs, on the ground, she thought.

"It will calm you," the voice continued. "You are panicked, and frightened. This will calm you, sooth your stomach - it has herbs, mint and others, made by one of my healers. The taste is not unpleasant. Please drink. You are - have been - too frightened to think, and I am truly sorry for that. But it was too dangerous to keep you anywhere else, or have you tended properly. Drink. I will explain ... everything, after you drink."

"I ... what about ..."

"Drink. Your kid is safe," the voice said, soothingly. "She is near. And once you are calm enough, she may see you. And you, her. Please drink."

She drank, and she could taste mint and mallow, and ... something else, just a hint of sour, not quite unpleasant but still vaguely medicinal. The liquid was warm, not too hot, and after sipping half the cup, she felt herself start to relax. Elaine. Elaine was alive. And ... she'd see her.

"I ... I want to see my daughter," she said.

"That ... well. Yes, of course. Soon," the voice said. "After we talk, yes?"

"Please," she said, almost desperately. "I want ..."

"It seems cruel to ask you for patience," the voice continued. "But there are things we must discuss, and if I let your kid - daughter - in, then we will not get to them, or I will have to send her out soon, and you will want to spend some time with her. Let us talk first. Are you ready to open your eyes? My kind is frightening to you at first, and ... we have done much to frighten you. And I am sorry for that. But I will not hurt you, nor will anyone."

"Yes," she said.

"The light in here is dim, so as not to hurt your eyes, but they may still be sensitive," the voice continued, and she felt something around her head. "There."

She opened them, and yes, it was a monster - the fourth one, the dark-furred one with yellow eyes, crouching over her. The now-empty cup sat on the floor, and the dark-furred monster was sitting next to her. It - he? - gave her a careful, tooth-hidden grin.

"Let's start with something simple," the monster said. "I don't know your name."

"Magda," she said.

"Magda," he echoed. "Welcome to Redding Clave, Magda."

"Redding Clave?"

"We are wolven, and we gather in claves," the monster - wolven? - said. "Something like ... several very large human families. A large extended human clan. I lead the clave - I am simply Alpha. First. I have no other name; I give it up to lead my family, to remind me - and everyone in the Clave - of my first responsibility." That careful tooth-hidden grin showed again.

"Some of your work - cloth, made with your magicked threads - found its way to our magic-handlers, and they told me that you could make skins for us," the wolven - monster - continued. "And so I ordered them to track you, find you, convince you to come with them.

"I did not order them to steal you away in the middle of the night," he said, apologetically. "They were afraid that some other clave would find you, track you, and ... perhaps, hurt you. I had ordered that you not be hurt, that you be protected ...

The wolven looked up at the ceiling. "Things did not go as I would have had them go, and I am sorry, very sorry ...

"But once you were here, there were ... more problems. You had to be kept secret, lest another clave find out about your skill, and seek ... seek to hurt you. Your gift is rare, very rare, and claves could easily come to blows over possessing you. I did not want you to be so easily known, certainly not hurt, no ... I thought perhaps if our magic-handlers could learn to do what you do, that then we could send you back, yes, unhurt, and we have so few ... I ordered that they should guard you, in a place reserved for the handlers, that ... that they could watch you, perhaps learn how you do what you do. This was to insulate you, protect you from the rest of the clave.

"They could not learn," the wolven said sadly. "They watched, and watched, and they do not have the right gifts to do as ..."

"Wait," Magda interrupted. "But that was ... human skin. Why ..."

Alpha nodded, dark fur ruffling as he did so. "Ah. A good question. I can see ... I can see why that would upset you, with no explanation, yes. But you see, it is the task of the wolven to keep down brigands - road-thieves," he said. "Long ago, when ... when we had handlers, magic-handlers, I mean, who could make skins for our warriors, wolven walked the streets of human towns and cities, keeping the peace, keeping down the bad, violent, troublesome men.

"It is why we were created," the wolven went on. "To help police humans, to make sure they have peace, that they are safe ... we are driven to do this. I tell you, Magda, it is ... it is almost a pain to us, that we can no longer do this except in the countryside, along the roads. We long to resume our duties."

"Oh," she said. It didn't seem very likely to her, but ...

She found herself staring into his deep yellow eyes, listening to his voice. She supposed it could have happened that way, that she was meant to ...

what?

"I had hoped that our magic-handlers could learn how you make one thing into another. Make human skins for us." The wolven smiled again. He actually had a nice smile, she thought, maybe ... maybe he wasn't such a monster? Except ... where had they gotten the human skin from?

"So I provided them with the right kind of leather, taken from bandits we put down," the wolven continued, "and told them to keep away from the rest of the clave. I looked in on you, to make sure all was well, but ... and again I am sorry, it is all my fault, I did not have enough time to spend. I didn't realize they hadn't explained anything. How can they? They don't speak Latin, just ... just wolven. So they had to use magic to tell you things. And that, of course, just was more proof of how scary we were. Nor could they tell you where your daughter was, or that she was safe. Is safe." He took a breath.

"I knew they didn't speak Latin, I just ... didn't consider the matter as carefully as I might have. And I am sorry, truly, I am. But, Magda, if we found you, it was - is - just a matter of time before another clave does. And they would want a skin-changer as much as we do. More, perhaps." The wolven gave his smile again. "I can protect you, and your daughter."

Magda just stared at him. Protect?

"Perhaps ... it is too soon to speak of such things," the wolven said softly. "There is but one other thing. We do not speak, we do not use your Latin nor minotaur Greek nor jaguen Farsi. Among wolven, we simply know. Our hearts talk.

"The language of the heart knows no barriers, Magda," the wolven said solemnly. "And ... if you would, I would teach it to you. It is easy to learn, simple to use ... all you need to do is listen."

Alpha gave his careful, tooth-hidden grin to the human magic-handler, and let the gentle, calming reassurance-safety he was sending surround her. Something about her magic-handling made her bafflingly difficult to effect, and ... the mistreatment by the Clave's magic-handlers hadn't helped. They'd seen her first as an interloper, and then, when they'd failed to duplicate her talent, a threat. Wolven reacted to threats either aggressively, or submissively, and it was, he supposed sourly, too much to expect magic-handlers to submit to a human.

The problem was that they'd scared her half out of her mind, and, because she was so unpleasantly opaque, they hadn't realized it. She was of no use to anyone in a catatonic state of utter terror ... Alpha was furious, utterly, completely, absolutely furious, and he could to show not one tiny sign of that anger, not when he was dealing with her. Taking responsibility for her away from them was only the first indication of how displeased he was. Having her pass out from terror at the unexceptional event of - if mage-handler Reichl had understood it correctly - breaking a needle was unfortunate. Only he doubted that was exactly what had happened. He would have a conversation with Reichl, a long conversation, Alpha to very-much-least-favored-pack-member, and he would find out exactly what had happened.

Finding the human's daughter, and extracting her from her situation had been even trickier. Despite his request - and any request from Alpha was an order - that they both be unharmed, the kid had been sent to the pens. It was merest luck that she hadn't taken harm there. But! He'd had a long session with her, smudging those memories until they were just a gray unpleasantness, unmemorable food, being alone, a wolven prowling around to make sure she didn't leave ...

Still much nicer memories than what she'd actually seen. She was young enough, though, that she hadn't really understood it, realized where the penned humans went when they left, or why they didn't come back. At least she was intact; explaining why she could no longer speak would have been most unpleasantly difficult. Stupid. He really had nobody to blame but himself; he should have had an alpha supervise. Or checked more closely himself. Or a thousand other things, but he'd been busy with other critical details. Senior had told him he wasn't delegating, and this was bitter proof that the old alpha was right. Again. Any of the alphas could have handled most of what he'd been doing, he thought. He should have taken care of this himself.

He brought his wandering attention back to the human magic-handler. She was still thinking, or trying to, through the poppy-juice haze of the tea he'd given her. All she had to do was let him into her mind, was that so difficult? She should want to let him in, after that story ...

"Listen," he said, and sent, Listen. "_There's no difficulty." _There's no difficulty. "No fear." No fear. "No lies." No lies. "When mind speaks to mind, there is only truth." When mind speaks to mind, there is only truth. Which was itself a lie, of course, one could lie mind-to-mind as easily and, if one was wolven, much more easily, than with sloppy language, but the human would never, never know that.

The human magic-handler just looked at him. Was she stunned? Had he overdosed her with poppy juice? Curse the stuff ...

Ah.

Yes. See. He was in. She didn't trust him, that was obvious, but ... there. There. And ... there. Alpha tied the distrust to her own discomfort, the pain of her wounds. As she improved, it would drain away, quietly, gently, so softly that she'd never think to wonder if he'd touched her that way.

If you still want to leave us, then I cannot keep you, he sent to her. It would be so much better if she thought she'd chosen to say on her own, after all.

"But ..."

You are in no condition to leave. Please. Do not decide yet, give us - give me a chance." She was lonely, of course, lacking a man, and she ... ah. Humans. So malleable, and ... wanting to believe. Foolish, but what was one to do? Lust and love, all tied together. He cautiously unteased a thread of lust, buried it in her, deep, deeper, underneath her conscious mind. She would dream of wolves, of wolven ... of him. Slowly, that was the key, he had to go slowly, very gently, very carefully. Above all she must never suspect him of meddling with her thoughts, and that meant he must meddle very, very slowly. All the changes must seem like her own insight, her own viewpoint.

Are you ready to see your daughter?

"Elaine!"

Yes, he sent, with loving-gentle-tenderness. Overkill, perhaps, but between her emotions and the poppy juice the woman was so distraught that it would take something like that to reach her. She is well; we tended her, perhaps not as I'd intended, but ... that is an oversight I can correct now. He would correct that. Reichl was not the only wolven he was going to have a conversation with.

"Please, yes, oh please ..."

You need not beg, he sent, all kind-firmness. She is your daughter; I would not keep her from you. I just wanted a chance to talk, to explain how ... how my plans went wrong. To ask you to forgive me - us. We need you.

_ Send the child in now he told the _delta outside, and a moment later, Elaine came running in.

"Mommy!"

"Elaine? Oh, honey ..."

Alpha ignored the developing conversation, leaning back, careful to keep a gentle tooth-hidden smile. This was just the distraction he needed, to work without her notice. He just sat back, apparently content with watching the mother-kid reunion.

And here were the memories of hunger, of rejection, cold nights and bleak days, begging for food, threatened by other beggars just as desperate. Alpha touched them, but did not awaken them, not yet. He just left a thread, linking those to her thoughts of home. Her shields were trickier; they were relaxed now, but they were part of her magic, and experience had taught the wolven that magic was best left untouched. The very last thing he wanted to do was block her burgeoning powers away from her. Instead, he carefully reinforced her relaxed state, and bound it to his voice and touch. With just a little luck, he would be able to coax her easily back into opening her mind. And, not so coincidentally, those same barriers that were so inconvenient for him would buffer her from anyone else, who would not have his key to them.

The kid had been easy; she had no burgeoning magics with which to resist him and it had been simplicity itself to make her like and trust him. Just as easily as he had planted the idea, deep in her mind, that she liked it here. Why shouldn't she? Food, warmth, safety ... she and her mother would have both of them. Alpha actually had no intentions of treating them badly even by human standards. These were not meat, no, these were far more valuable. Even if the kid had no magic of her own, it would still run in her blood, make her get valuable. These two were most, most precious. He wondered if the handler herself could safely bear another kid or two.

The magic-handler mother ... her mind was older, more set in its ways, magic seeping through it - potentially dangerous, but a talented mind-handler (and Alpha was, by definition, among the best of Redding Clave) could work around that. Having her daughter here to distract her while he was working was helpful; very helpful. When he judged he'd done as much as he could, for now, he sat back, and just looked at the two humans.

He'd already examined the kid; she was young. Usually a human that young would just be sent to the pens - as indeed she had - but she was healthy, and a year or two would change her from kid to woman. Even just as a kid, keeping her in the harem would be worth it to please her magic-handler mother. And when she was old enough for harem duties - he would bring her in, if she turned out pleasantly.

And if she took after her mother, she would. The magic-handler herself had cleaned up very well. His first impression had been negative, but now, clean, her hair brushed and untangled, she was attractive. A little old, perhaps just as her daughter was a little young, but still ... a fine woman, magic-handling aside.

Alpha broke into the conversation. "Now, Magda, and ... Elaine, yes?" The young girl nodded, still somewhat intimidated by the wolven. "Elaine, I want you to go back to your den."

She looked at her mother for a moment, clearly not wanting to leave.

"Your mother will come, in a bit." Alpha said. "I want you to get her den furs in order. She will be coming. You and she will have the den all to yourselves, it will be all yours. Will that be nice? You want to be ready, yes?"

She nodded a little fearfully, and, with a final pleading look at her mother, walked out.

"... you want to be ready, yes?" the wolven said softly, sending Elaine back out of the room. It hurt, to see her daughter go, but ... she was alive. Healthy. Even ... even saying nice things about the wolven. That seemed so strange, they had seemed so terrible ... but ... what Alpha had told her, maybe ...

The words formed in her mind; it had felt strange at first, but now ... they seemed normal. I have given your daughter a den within my own den; I will put you with her. There is no safer place in my Clave. And I hope ... I hope you will stay with us. And ... no, no, it is too soon to speak of such things. I know, the past week has been horrible, and ... and you can blame me; it is my fault, and I am sorry. It is not what I wanted. Let me show you, while you recover your strength, just how we - I - would treasure a magic-handler of your skills.

A furred hand, claws held carefully, smoothed her hair. Delicately. Gently.

"But .."

Alpha caressed her arm, through the covering fur. It sent a thrill through her, although ... although this was wrong, wrong, she shouldn't ...

Alpha had far too much self-control to growl; what would intimidate another wolven would terrify a human, and then he'd just have the trouble of calming her all over again. Shifting around the magic in her thoughts was hard enough, like finding impassible walls where there should be open ground, but this was just infuriating, a bizarre prudishness-guilt all tied and knotted around sex. Social conditioning of the most pernicious sort, and if she weren't a handler ripping it out would be as simple as ... well, ripping it out.

But of course she was a handler, and it wasn't, and he was obliged to hunt through the tangle until he found the center - a center, anyway, he thought gloomily - and snipped through it. One of many, without a doubt. It would take time, though, to fade away, and he didn't have that time. He needed to have her, and set her into the harem, and ...

Alpha set himself looking for the next knot. And he needed to keep her distracted. The last thing he wanted was for her to notice his poking about in her mind. An ordinary human wouldn't, of course, but she wasn't an ordinary human. She was a magic-handler, and she had to be treated with all the care such a precious thing deserved.

Whatever is wrong? came the question, with a faintly hurt-rejected overtone.

"Nothing," Magda said quickly, no, she didn't want this creature to be angry. He'd been so nice her, really. And ... he was ...

She couldn't be thinking of him in that way, could she? He was male - very male - certainly, and probably not unattractive for a monster - wolven, she corrected herself, not unattractive for a wolven, but he wasn't human. She shouldn't be finding herself growing .., interested. Not in a powerful, attractive male who had rescued her from ...

No!

"Something is wrong," Alpha said, softly, aloud, stepping back. "Tell me."

"Nuh - nothing," she said. "Really. It's nothing. I ... you've been very kind."

"No," he said, using Latin again. "I have treated you poorly. I did not mean to, but that does not change that I did. It will change, Magda." The tooth-hidden smile gleamed at her again. "You will see."

"... will see." Alpha toyed with the notion of taking her now, but quickly dismissed it. The effects would alarm her, perhaps her kid - daughter, he corrected himself mentally, he must try not to use that term around her. Again. "You are tired, from the work, from the poor food - no, no, it was not good food. All will change." He smiled carefully again, reached down, and lifted her up, taking her in his arms, and he took the furs, too.

"I will carry you, you are tired, very tired, I see. And that tea you drank makes you drowsy, too, so, you see, you must let me carry you, yes?" Her mind was closing off, becoming more and more opaque as she drifted off to sleep - a restful sleep, he thought, gratefully. At least that should help. And doubly fortunately, the den he'd given her and the daughter, he thought carefully, wasn't far.

And the daughter was waiting there for her mother, too. Alpha took her mind firmly, dispersing the initial rush of fear and replacing it with a feeling of contentment. "Your mother," he said quietly, "is sleeping. She was tired, very tired, and so we should let her sleep, yes?"

The young girl nodded, a little stunned from his mental touch. He would have to watch that carefully; if the mother noticed his efforts with the daughter, then she might wonder if he'd affected her, and that was a complication to avoid. And that meant ... he would need to keep other wolven away from them, to prevent them from mind-handling them. More and more trouble, Alpha thought. But it would be worth it; and more than worth it.

"Good. Now, when she wakes up, you must show her the den ways I showed you; where to eat, where to clean, yes? Can you do that for your mother?"

She nodded firmly.

"Good," smiled Alpha. "Good. I will be back, to make sure all is well," and the tall wolven left the two humans, already considering how to best to make the point to the magic-handlers that their infuriating incompetence had put their prize at risk. Disciplining magic-handlers was always tricky; and ... perhaps he would see what Senior might suggest. Yes.

He'd do that.

He had to see Senior anyway, to find out how Senior had gone about removing those irritating Lycaili mages, anyway.