Greywolf

  On the morning of the fourth day, it was dark inside the tent when Greywolf snapped awake, Wysper's nude body enfolded alongside his as the tent flap rustled. Opening his eyes to slits, he saw a boy's head and shoulders sticking through the opening as the child whispered, "Greywolf, are you awake?"

  "Go away, Paulus; I'm asleep."

  "How can you be asleep if you are talking?"

  "I'm talking in my sleep." Wysper stifled a giggle as Greywolf fully opened his eyes. "It's not even dawn. Wotan's blood, what's so important?"

  "Az sent Fenris with a message. She wants the three of us and Castor to stay with her at the Dancing Direwolf while the funeral games are going on."

  “Funeral games?” Greywolf sat up with the blanket at his waist. "Has something changed? I heard they’ve been moved to Bukhara, but Timur made it clear he doesn't want me setting foot inside the city walls ."

  A long, hairy arm and hand grasped Paulus' shoulder. "Out, sprout. Go find Asena and tell her where we're going."

  "Are you serious? She will bite my head off."

  Castor entered the tent as he gave Paulus a wolfish grin. "Nah, she'll just rip out your heart and eat it in front of you. Go on." He shoved a wide-eyed Paulus out the door and knelt down. "Apologies for the early hour," he said as Wysper coaxed the brazier's slumbering coals into life, giving them some light, "but Fenris insists it's important. A merchant from the Empire of the East arrived last night, something to do with checking on Paulus, and closeted himself with Amazonia. Now, she wants you to meet with him."

  "Did she say why?" Castor shrugged as if he didn’t know and Greywolf added, "What about Timur banning us from Bukhara?"

  "Evidently, he's suspended the ban until after the games are finished... though you're specifically prohibited from having either armor or a sword."

  It was Greywolf’s turn to shrug. "Papa brought me the new ironwood sword he crafted, ready to be transmuted, and Prince Varsena told me he’d not only transmute it but make me some armor as well, right after the games are over."

  "Speaking of your father, has he left yet?”

  Greywolf nodded. "Last night.”

  Wysper sat with the blanket pressed against her chest. "Ghostdog did say he would return as soon as he could. Castor, am I invited as well?”

  He hesitated. "You are, but not by Az. The priestesses of Bukhara want to make you some kind of offer, though Fenris had no idea what it's about.”

  Wysper traded a look with Greywolf before saying, "That sounds suspicious."

  "Titan agrees, which is one reason he's coming along as well." Castor got to his feet. "Get dressed and meet us at the stabling pens. Today should be interesting if nothing else.”

  Greywolf gave him a sour look. "Papa says there's a curse from Xian that goes: 'May you live in interesting times'." Castor chuckled and walked back outside.

  The sun was close to its midday peak as they left the Daemo steed Rocky and the two Warghorses in the pens across the river from Bukhara, and walked towards the white stone bridge where Fox and Troll were waiting. Titan was already striding towards them with Asena at his side, both in armor and carrying the blunted weapons they were going to use against each other in the next day’s combat. Troll glared up at Asena as they got close. "By fukin Hel and her handmaidens, what're you doing here? No one invited you."

  Greywolf lengthened his stride, Wysper, Castor, and Paulus hurrying after him as Asena stopped in front of Troll and looked down. She laughed. "You gonna stop me, little man? Try it, and we'll see how well you walk with an iron sword shoved up your arse."

  "Troll," Fox said in an exasperated voice, "Domina told you to behave. If there's a problem, she'll sort it out."

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  As Greywolf reached them, he asked, "Do you have any idea why Az wants me to meet this merchant, or why the priestesses want Wysper?"

  Fox opened her arms in a helpless gesture. "We know as much as Fenris told you. However, as soon as you reach the 'Direwolf, we're all supposed to sit down in the private room and have a meeting with this merchant, including you, Titan." She looked up at him. "Domina’s too proud to ask, but she wants you to spend the night."

  "I understand," Titan rumbled as he motioned towards Bukhara. "Are any of the priestesses coming to escort Wysper?"

  "As I understand it, what used to be the Sasnayam's women's quarters in the Temple District has been converted to the Temple of Ishtar, and she's supposed to go straight there." She looked at Wysper. "The streets are safe now, so you'll be fine."

  Wysper, wearing the warm clothing Prince Varsena's wife Sorocan gave her, said, "Was the Daemo Sybil the one who invited me?"

  Fox shrugged. "Ishtar herself is supposed to be present to meet you, but more than that I don't know."

  "Then I'll escort my new daughter there," Asena said. "I haven't seen Ishtar in ages."

  "I'm sure she'll be happy to see you again."

  Asena snorted. "If Ishtar was a viper, she'd likely spit in my eye. This is going to be fun." Wysper gave Greywolf a look that said, 'What am I getting myself into', and he rolled his eyes as Asena added, "Titan, keep Greywolf from doing anything stupid."

  Greywolf whirled on her. "I do just fine on my own, thank you very much."

  Asena only snorted again as Titan smiled. "That will not be a problem….and do try not to kill anyone."

  Asena gave him a broad wink as Wysper came into his arms for a brief kiss. "If they want you to make some kind of choice,” he said as he let her go, "I'll back you up whatever you decide."

  She blinked. "You will?"

  "Of course. Love you, Wysp."

  She smiled. "Love you back... Woof."

  Asena rolled her eyes. "Pet names for each other. Next, it'll be matching tunics. Well, let's go." Asena put an affectionate arm around Wysper and the two of them walked on, Wysper quickening her stride to keep pace with Asena as the rest of them went with Fox.

  As they crossed the bridge and neared the gatehouse, Greywolf glanced up at the workers repairing the crumbling brick walls. Hold on, they're moving in an odd, jerky way. "Fox, there's something wrong with your laborers. Are they sick?"

  "You could say that," Troll replied before she could, giving him a grin. "Every one of them has a fatal disease that can't be treated."

  Titan grabbed Troll by the shoulder and spun him around. "Timur dares to use the dead to rebuild his city?"

  "And why not?" Troll hunched his shoulders the same way a real troll would. "It's free labor, they don't eat anything, and they sure don't complain."

  "They would if they could," Greywolf snapped back.

  Troll glared at him as Fox said in a soothing voice, "By using the Shamblers, Prince Timur’s helping the Bukharans rebuild their city better than it's ever been. The people were nervous at first, but they're used to manikins like the ones the mages use, and the Shamblers aren't much different." She shrugged again. "Besides, there's nothing any of us can do about it, anyway."

  "At the moment," Titan replied. "However, the day will come when Timur loses control of his necromancers as Ba'al did, and I will be given an army to destroy him." He gave her a hard stare. "You had best pray the Rune sword shatters before then." Titan stalked ahead through the gate, and the rest shared troubled looks before hurrying after him.

  As they reached the alleyway, the sign for the Dancing Direwolf was gone, while a pair of guards, wearing leather armor with iron rings sewn into the material, stood on either side of the door leading into the inn. They nodded at Troll as he led them inside. "Domina," he called out, "we're home."

  "We're in the private room," she said. Troll took a right through the doorway and the rest followed. Dressed like a man in a tunic and trousers, Az sat on a cushion with her back to the wall beside a swarthy man with a long, grey beard and a turban around his head, wearing well made but dusty robes of several colors. A long, low table in front of them held a tray with ceramic cups and a wine jug. "Greywolf," Az said with a broad smile, "you made it." Her gaze rested firmly on Titan, though, as she added, "This is Balthazar the merchant, who's actually an agent for the Emperor of the East."

  "You honor me," the man replied, bowing from a sitting position with his hand pressed to his chest. "In truth, I am but one of the many eyes and ears for the Imperial Spymaster, who reports to his Augustus Majesty himself. A person who remains in the shadows under the guise of a simple wine merchant."

  "Who gifted me with several casks of northern Italia red wine. Everyone grab a cushion and gather round us. Rae,” Az said to someone behind them, “go ahead and start pouring."

  A dark haired young woman, bearing old bruises on her face and wearing a simple, linen dress, began handing out ceramic cups to everyone, including the other Wardogs who came in from the common room as well. Greywolf sat across from Az as Titan engulfed two cushions as he sat beside him, Castor taking a seat on Greywolf’s other side. Paulus took his place beside Az as the Reaver Knight said, "Before we begin, Prince Timur wants no one in this room to talk about his plans for the upcoming campaign to anyone."

  "You are moving against the Sasnayam Empire in the spring," Balthazar said, "which is all we need to know. Details are unnecessary." The young woman finished handing out cups and began pouring red wine as he continued. "As I was telling Amazonia earlier, while the Sasnayams now know their schemes have been foiled, Eurax is unaware of how radically, shall we say, his designs have been altered. As far as he knows, everything is going according to plan."

  Titan rumbled, "How can you know that for certain?"

  Balthazar gave the Ogri a sly smile. "Because Eurax's spy has been eliminated."