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and handed Cahira her bag of empties. I've come for some creams and
perfumes."
Cahira sat down again and went through the empties, calculating Rachel's
credit for them. You have a lot of them. There's five pence worth here."
"I keep forgetting to bring them back."
That brought a smile to Cahira's face. So I see."
"I hear a lot of odd tales in the tavern and some of them have me wondering."
"About what?"
"If they're true."
"Well, most likely they've been a bit embellished. However, tell me what story
is bothering you and I'll tell you what I think."
"They say that the seiryns can sing a mon out of his home."
"Only if they've met before and set the come-hither on him."
"I see. Well, this customer said that he defeated one by wearing a necklace of
elder berries."
Cahira laughed. That's nonsense. There's no such property to elder berries.
Rowan is the only way to weaken a come-hither. It won't block it completely,
but if your will is strong enough you can act in spite of it. That's what
Melisande, the wife of Dawnhand, is said to have done. She made a necklace of
rowan twigs to block Waejonan's power and then she jumped to her death. It was
the only way to escape him."
"That's a tragic story."
"Yes, it is."
"I need to get back to the tavern. Thank you for talking to me."
"You haven't picked out your creams."
"I'll get them later."
* * * *
Malthus watched Fianait and Searlait hovering over Claw in the Blue Room.
Aisha had the household to run, so his sisters did most of the fussing over
and tending of Claw. Darmyk sat in a chair at the big table, swinging his legs
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and chattering. Ros and Lyrri sat at the table also, but everyone was ignoring
them: even Fianait who used to make a bit of time each day for the girls. That
irritated Malthus.
His nieces would not be orphans if Claw and Isranon had not murdered their
father Troyes. Troyes had been one of Lord Feodras two legitimate sons; the
only one that Malthus felt close to. The other four sons had been bastards
like himself.
Claw's survival festered in Malthus like a splinter rotting beneath his flesh,
itching and burning with growing inflammation. His hatred of Claw spread its
infection to include Fianait and Searlait. He had always intended to kill all
of the Redhands except Merissa, who he regarded as his property and whose
belly he intended to keep filled with his offspring until her body wore out.
His lovely Merissa had become his first experiment in prolonged lycan
fertility.
The original plan that Malthus had envisioned had been to make Claw watch the
executions of his family. After his marriage to Merissa, he had revised it to
kill Claw first. Standing there watching Claw's sisters ignore his nieces; it
made him reconsider it again. Searlait and Fianait would die first.
Malthus left the Blue Room and went to his chambers where he tossed clean
clothing into an oilskin bag, then rolled that up in a backpack. He passed
Kissie in the hallway and nodded at the nibari. I'm going into the village to
do a bit of shopping. I'll be back late."
He took the path to the village, but turned off into a stand of trees and
doubled back to the Bonnie Draw where Searlait liked to sit in the mornings
before starting her tasks at the loom.
Malthus spotted Searlait's favorite rock and went past it to a pine covert.
There he knelt and removed the oilskin bag from his backpack. With quick
movements, Malthus removed the pine needles and stray branches that had broken
off around a large leaning rock that a pine's roots had forced from the soil
at an angle. He stuffed the bag with his clothes between the rock and the
tree, and covered it up again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
KERRY
Kynyr woke in the early hours, nauseated and dizzy. Liquor could not account
for it. He wondered if he had come down with some minor but annoying winter
sickness. He could not afford to be ill. Too much needed to be done.
He staggered down to the kitchen, trying to remember where Kissie kept the
poppy milk. If he could just keep masking the symptoms until after he had
killed Shalto and Oswyl, then he could take to his bed and rest until the
worst had passed. Kynyr poked around the pantry, looking for where Kissie kept
it. A hard cramp in his belly nearly doubled him over. He grabbed at a shelf
and sent the bottles cascading toward him. Kynyr managed to keep the bottles
from ending up on the floor, but everything was now out of place and he
doubted he could find the poppy milk. He tottered to the table and dropped
heavily into a chair with a groan as his stomach cramped again.
Isbeth and Kissie came in to get the stoves heating to cook breakfast. Kissie
stared at him in concern. Are you all right, Master Kynyr?"
"Poppy milk ... I'm sick."
"Isbeth and I shouldn't keep giving it to you. You ought to go to Sheradyn."
"Please, give me enough to get me through the day. I can't afford to be sick."
"You should talk to Master Sheradyn. She went into the pantry and clucked at
the confusion on the shelf. You've messed it all up. Isbeth, see if you can
find it."
"I'll talk to Sheradyn, I promise. Just one more bottle."
Isbeth reached onto the undisturbed shelf above the one that Kynyr had left in
disarray. She took down the poppy milk and added the poison to it, relieved to
know that she would not have to administer the poison again today. The thought
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