Wolf's-own: Koan (23 page)

"Fen,” Imara said, voice calm and even, “perhaps we can come to a compromise, yes?"

Fen didn't say anything, only glared at Shig, who was still grinning behind Imara. Well, at least Fen wasn't lunging. Progress? Perhaps Fen Jacin merely needed a firm hand.

Imara looked at Shig. “Please wake the others. You should all have time to dress and break your fast before we must leave.” And with what Imara had seen last night and was still seeing now, it wasn't going to be in answer to Goyo's high-handed summons, either. Fen was overdue for a visit to Wolf's temple, and Imara was bloody well going to make sure he made it, after all of Kamen's stalling. That was at least one part of Kamen's job she didn't mind doing herself, and none too soon, the way things were going. She turned back to Fen. “Fen and I have matters we must discuss."

That made Fen refocus the glare on Imara. “I have nothing to—"

"Can you see him right now?” Imara cut in.

"See who?” Joori asked, suspicion and anger rising once again to twist his face into a hostile mask. “What is she talking about, Jacin?"

Fen had gone silent, nearly choking on his fury and confusion as he merely stared at Imara, questions Imara couldn't begin to fathom in his eyes.

"Joori, Shig,” said Imara, “I need to speak with Fen, please. Alone."

"No.” Joori let go of Fen's arm and tried to step in front of him, but neither Fen nor Imara backed off to give him room. “Jacin, you've only just—"

"Get out.” A slight softening of the tone, the barest flicker of a gentler glance to his brother, and then Fen turned all his focus back on Imara. “Go, Joori. Take Shig with you."

It wasn't hard to see the hurt in Joori's eyes, the sorrow and the insult. And it wasn't hard to see the determination not to care in Fen's.

Bloody hell, this family tangle could take centuries to sort and soothe.

"Fine,” whispered Joori, hollow, bloodshot eyes filling for the briefest of moments, but he kept the emotion back. “Let me know if you... right. Never mind."

With a heavy breath, he pointed a meaningful look at Shig, backed away from his brother, and walked to the door. He turned and waited for Shig. Mouth turned down, Shig followed after Joori and walked silently out of the room with one last concerned glance at Fen.

"Did you see him or not?” Fen snapped the moment the door snicked shut.

Imara sighed, stepped slowly over to the window again, and propped her leg up on the wide sill. Fen opened his mouth like he meant to protest but then closed it again.

"I did not,” Imara answered.

It was like she'd just punched Fen in the chest. All the air went out of him. He kept the hostile expression, though Imara was sure she saw something raw and agonized in there somewhere. Perhaps she should have considered her answer more carefully.

"I don't know why I'd thought it might be over,” Fen mused, his raspy voice almost inaudible. He heaved something that might have been a sour laugh, but the hollowness of it turned it into something... almost eerie. Or perhaps it was the shadow of the larger implications of the comment, even if Fen didn't know what they were. “It never ends, does it.” Not a question. “It will never....” He shook his head, eyes clearing, and mastered himself, control slipping about him like a visible suit of armor. “Why are you here?"

Imara blinked. “Because Kamen isn't. You and yours need protection, Fen Jacin. You can't—"

"Me and mine need nothing from you. You can go now."

A far cry from the quaver of terror that voice had husked out last night.

"Oh?” Imara's eyebrow went up. She titled her head. “And if Asai's spirit really is here?"

She waited, but all Fen did was narrow his eyes. The man gave new meaning to the words “stony silence."

"You said Kamen chased him away,” Imara said, “but when Kamen went to spirit last night, his wards vanished as well. If there is anything here, hovering about, the only magic standing between you and it is mine.
My
wards,
my
magic.” Imara paused then leaned in close. “Are you quite certain, Fen Jacin, that you need nothing from me? Are you quite certain that those you love need nothing from me?"

The anger and confusion emanating from Fen were almost live things. His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared, and his eyes... bloody hell, she didn't even need magic to figure out what was going on in his head—it was all over his face. So, when he finally ground out, “You're a fucking bitch,” it was fairly redundant.

Imara shrugged. “Kamen has allowed the task to which Wolf set him to languish for too long. I intend to see to it now. Perhaps we might... coexist a little better if we define and resolve to respect one another's boundaries."

Fen stared for a long, long moment. Glared, really. Imara could understand how one might cringe beneath that baleful glower. Perhaps that was the effect Fen was looking for. He did not, however, seem surprised when he didn't get it.

He jerked his chin, jaw set. “Fine,” he snapped. “Here's my boundary: You stay out of my way, and I won't send your spirit after Ma— Kamen's."

It was small—tiny, really—but Imara saw it: a twitch, a flash of doubt and grief and fear in the truncated speaking of the name Kamen had refused to shed along with his mortal skin. Imara almost sighed. So. That was how it was with Fen Jacin, then.

All right. Imara had seen the sort before. Bricking himself up behind rage and distrust because all of the other emotions had betrayed him. Just brilliant.

At least Imara knew.

She tipped a slow nod, almost a bow but not quite. “I have no intention of getting in your way.” Not at the moment, at least. Not unless he didn't get himself together and pledge himself to Wolf. He'd bloody well do it if Imara had to knock him unconscious and
drag
him to the temple.

Damn Kamen to the suns and back for... for
existing
.

"We have appointments we must keep,” she told Fen. “You're not going to see Goyo today, Fen. We have other concerns that are much more important. Our god has... expectations, and I have no intention of disappointing him. And we all must bow to certain inevitabilities."

"I don't,” Fen said. “I'm not going to any temple, and I won't—"

"You,” Imara said, leaning close, “will do as your god commands.” She let her eyes narrow in clear threat. “Your brothers need my protection, Fen Jacin. Do you really want to be the one responsible for taking it away?"

She'd been right—the way to Fen Jacin was through his brothers. She could see the rage all over him, but the threat reined him in; his hands had been hovering over the hilts of the knives at his belts, but they fisted instead of settling around the grips. His chin quivered, even as his eyes flared murderous fury, but all he seemed able to force out through his teeth was, “Fuck you."

Since he merely spun and stalked out of the room and then across the hall to his brother's, Imara let that bit of disrespect slide.

"The
temple
?” Morin had no doubt his eyes were sprung wide and his jaw was flapping. “You want to take
Jacin
out in public? During the day, when there are people about?"

"It cannot wait any longer,” Imara said, perhaps a bit taken aback at Morin's admittedly indecorous reaction. “I managed to put the Patrol off for a few hours, but they will be back, and this task must be completed before your brother meets with Goyo."

"Why does he have to meet with this Goyo person at all?” Samin asked, wary.

Imara looked like she smelled something foul. “Because he is counselor to the Patrol and his position must be respected."

Morin didn't miss how her gold eyes rolled a little in derision. “Yeah, well, subjecting him to Jacin isn't really going to accomplish that,” he muttered. “He's got the social skills of a bitchy ken-ken.” And making him try to use them was sometimes actually painful. Didn't she know what a bad idea it was to allow someone of the Patrol to question Jacin at all? She was supposed to be smart—shouldn't she have figured that out just by what she'd already seen?

"After your brother has completed his task at Wolf's temple,” Imara said with a lift of her chin, “that will hardly matter anymore."

Morin couldn't figure out if that was an answer to what he'd said or to what he hadn't said. Abruptly uncomfortable, he drew his gaze from Imara's and looked around at the others for some kind of reassurance, but there was none to be had.

Jacin was looking angry-puzzled, which was a switch from his usual angry-angry, but not much of one. Shig was trying very hard not to show any reaction at all, but Morin was getting to know her fairly well, and he was pretty sure he detected some inner giggling. Samin just looked tired, but he'd been up all night, keeping watch against whatever those things were that had somehow managed to sneak up on—

Damn it, every time the reality of it hit Morin, his stomach clenched and curled, and he wasn't even certain why. Sure, he liked Malick well enough, but Malick was
Temshiel
, he'd be back, there wasn't really any such thing as death to them. There was no sense in mourning, and that wasn't what it felt like, anyway.

Maybe it was that “on our own” feeling that Morin kept shoving away, because they weren't, really. They had Shig and Samin, and while Shig could be a flighty, unreliable twat sometimes, Morin had no doubt that Samin wasn't about to abandon them. And now they had this Imara watching their backs as a favor to Malick, which should have made Morin feel better, because Malick had cared enough to get Imara to do it.

Thing was, Imara wasn't Malick. Imara was here as a proxy—and probably because she had her own reasons too; all of her sort did—not because she actually gave a shit about any of them... gave a shit about....

Yeah. That was it. Morin knew it would come to him if he thought about it, so maybe that was why he hadn't.

Malick put up with Jacin's batshit ways and near-constant grieving hostility because Malick loved him. And in his own
Temshiel
way, Malick was just as crazy as Jacin was. Malick had a vested interest in figuring out what Jacin needed and giving it to him.

Imara didn't.

"I thought it was too dangerous,” Joori put in, his disposition toward Imara apparently just as hostile as it had ever been toward Malick. Morin almost sighed. “Those
banpair
wanted to get to him badly enough to attack a
Temshiel
, and now you want to just parade him about in the middle of the day?"

"Whatever they wanted,” Samin said from his sprawl in the chair across from Morin, “they didn't want Fen dead.” He shot a sharp look at Imara. “But I can't say I disagree with Joori. They got through Mal's magic. Why not yours?"

Imara only shrugged. “I may not have Kamen's power, but I'm not helpless."

"Well, apparently, neither are
they
.” Joori was leaking suspicion all over the place. “What happens if they get past you too?"

"Then we will be all the closer to knowing what they are and what they want."

See, this was why they needed Malick. He didn't have that chilly “he's just a mortal” rationality. If Malick were here, he'd be locking Jacin up in the room and hiring mercenaries to guard him.

Joori's mouth had dropped open. This time, Morin couldn't blame him.

"Let me make sure I'm understanding you clearly,” Joori said slowly, so quiet and even that, if Jacin's voice wasn't so raspy and hoarse, Morin might have thought it was him. “You want to—"

"They know where he is, Fen Joori,” Imara cut in, not entirely unkindly. “And after last night, every
Temshiel
and maijin in the city—indeed, the world—knows where he is and what happened to Kamen.
Banpair
will not be the only ones to... seek Fen Jacin.” She paused, peered at Jacin closely, but Jacin was busy staring off into the empty space in the corner of the room. Imara frowned then turned back to Joori. “The servants of Wolf's temples are not merely priests and priestesses but trained warriors. It is the safest place for your brother just now. Probably for you too."

Joori's jaw was set hard in that stubborn way that reminded Morin too much of Caidi. “
Why
?” he growled. “What is Jacin to any of these people?” He turned his glance on Jacin, pleading this time. “Jacin? What are they talking about? I thought we were through with all of"—he waved his hand helplessly about the room with a slight pause for emphasis on Imara—"
this
."

Jacin was still engrossed in the shadows in the corner. Staring. Jaw clenched so tight Morin imagined he could hear teeth grinding.

"
Jacin
?” Joori said, more insistent this time.

Jacin didn't even twitch.

Joori got up from the table and started toward Jacin, saying, “Jacin, answer me, I want to know—” but he stopped short when Jacin merely blinked, gave his head a little shake then pushed away from the wall and walked out. Nothing new. He did it lots of times when Joori nattered at him, and most of the time Joori chased him down. This time, Joori only looked angrily at Imara.

Imara merely lifted an eyebrow. “It appears your brother has decided that it's time to go."

Morin wouldn't call the expression on Imara's face a smirk. But it was damned close.

He had no idea where he was going. Just
away
. Outrun Asai, maybe, outrun everyone, hide so they couldn't find him, lose himself in the streets of Mitsu where no one knew what he was, what he'd been, what
they'd
made him with their selfish “justice” and their callous indifference to those who got their bones ground up beneath the weight of their Balance.

Yes
, Asai hissed,
remove the threat.
He sounded far too satisfied.
The only way to save them is to abandon them. Your mere presence is a danger, Jacin-rei.

"I know, I
know
,” Jacin grated. Hadn't Asai been throwing that at him all morning? And hadn't Imara all but confirmed it? The minions of the gods were looking for him now, and if he was around people he cared about, they'd be used and threatened. It was what these people did.

Jacin jolted back a little when he knocked shoulders with someone on the stairs, but he didn't stop, just regained his balance and kept going, picking up his pace so he was almost running when he hit the bottom. Malick's duster flapped around his calves, reeking of pine and sage, but the consolation Jacin couldn't admit seeking when he'd donned it didn't come. “Just shut up and leave me
alone
."