Greywolf

  The woman with flowing black hair leaned against the doorway, all softness and curves, her gauzy clothing leaving exposed the mana-fire opal set in her belly button, while a blue mana stone set in a silver spiral winked in the lobe of one ear. Greywolf moved through the water to the edge of the pool. "Blessings upon you,” he said, speaking what Porthos said was the traditional greeting here, but in Greco. “I’m Greywolf, son of Asena. Are you Ishi?"

  Her smile was all white teeth like square pearls. "Short for Ishtar” she answered in the same tongue. “My mother named me after the goddess, but once the Sasnayams took us over I shortened it to Ishi. Safer that way. Is Asena the huge, wolfish woman in the common room?”

  “She is, and never let’s me forget it, either.”

  “Then you're an Oldenblood like she is?"

  Greywolf blinked. "A what?"

  "Oldenblood. Those whose mana flows like a torrent, and not a trickle like it does for ordinary magi."

  Hmm, must be another name for a Celestial. "I'm actually a half-blood, but I can recharge your mana stones to full strength in a thrice, if you need me to." She nodded eagerly, and Greywolf added, "In return, can you give me a discount on my laundry?"

  Ishi’s expression became incredulous. "Recharge my stones and I'll do your laundry for free until you leave Bukhara. You've no idea what the temples charge us." She knelt on the smooth stones beside the pool, but as his hands came out of the water, she held out her own in warning. "No offense, but if your hand starts to wander, I can yell for my manikin to aid me."

  Greywolf returned a sour smile. "Just yell for Asena and she'll bounce me off the wall a couple times before making me apologize." He cupped his hand over her belly and kept it there as she pulled the spiral earring out of her earlobe and set it onto his palm. Recharging mana stones never took him long, even stones as depleted as these were, and midway through Ishi closed her eyes as her belly grew warm under his hand. I wish my hand could go wandering, but it won’t unless she changes her mind. "Almost there... okay, we're done."

  She opened her eyes as Greywolf removed his hand from the softness of her light brown skin. "Amazing," Ishi said as she took the spiral earring and set it back in her earlobe, the blue mana stone dazzling as sunlight off still water as the fire stone seemed to blaze in her belly. "The temple never charges them this full."

  "They do it on purpose to control you," a deep male voice said from the doorway.

  Ishi's head whipped back to look over her shoulder. "Karl, you startled me." Ishi got to her feet and turned around as a tall man in ring mail armor walked into the bathhouse. He was blond with his long hair in a braid down his back, his chin shaven clean, but had a long mustache hanging down on either side of his mouth. A sword in a scabbard was strapped to his back. He was also holding a child in his arms, a little girl wrapped in a small robe. All Greywolf could see was her delicate, pale white face visible under the hood. Ishi took a deep breath. "Do you have need of the bathhouse?"

  "Not this trip, I'm afraid," he replied, a note of regret in his voice. "Greywolf, I spoke briefly with Asena and she told me you were out here. I'm known as Karl the Outlander, mercenary recruiter for the Crimson Horde, and this little bundle of joy in my arms is named Princess."

  "He calls me that to make fun of me," she replied in a strange, high pitched voice.

  Greywolf couldn’t help but grin as he touched his heart in a gesture of respect. "Greywolf, son of Ghostdog. Did Asena mention what she needs?"

  "She did, and this will help us immensely. Several children in the camp have recently gone missing, and outriders found troll markings leading up into the hills. I need permission to let you both enter our lands, but when the Great Khan agrees, I'll ask our two Lycaon mercenaries to help track them."

  Greywolf’s eyes widened. "You have Lycaons as mercenaries?"

  Ishi gave them both a puzzled look "Lycaons? What are those?"

  "Greek man-wolves," Karl answered. "Centuries ago, a Greek king offended Zeus, and the... god, changed the king and his sons to large, wolfish-men. Zeus did let them keep their intelligence and human natures, though, which includes a preference for mating with human women, but while daughters are born human, males are always born Lycaon. Anyway, they're both bored, and Asena told me she'd be happy to have them along to help in your hunt."

  A load of worry slipped off Greywolf’s shoulders. "Karl, you don't know how much I appreciate this." His stomach rumbled, reminding him it was way past the midday meal the caravan had skipped in their push to get to Bukhara. "Ishi, I think I'm about done here."

  "On the shelf where the basket was you'll find a drying cloth." A smile crept over her face. "If you want, I can dry your hair and comb it out for you, on the house."

  As Greywolf nodded and smiled back, Karl chuckled. "Ishi, you should liberate a clove-lemon from the kitchen and give it to him."

  Ishi's hands went to her wide hips. "Karl, you know I'm a married woman, and propriety dictates—”

  "Karl's right," Princess said, interrupting. Her delicate face lay shadowed under the hood as she went on. "I listen when the warriors talk, and someday they will conquer Bukhara and make slaves out of the ones left alive. You should grab all the happiness you can, while you can."

  The mage shuddered. "My husband's a captain of the temple district's guards, and he claims the Crimson Horde will never get across the river with enough strength to assault us… and yet, I remember what happened in Bukhara's eastern region. I can only hope the temples and the royal governor speak the truth when they tell us the Crimson Horde desires peace."

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  "The Great Khan desires peace," Karl said, "but he's an old man tired of fighting. He's outlived two wives, but his third will be arranging his body on the funeral pyre sooner rather later." He shrugged. "Personally, I'd give Greywolf the clove-lemon."

  "Crave pardon, but could someone explain what you're all talking about?"

  Ishi face was all dimples as she smiled. "You'll see. Your highness," Ishi said as she turned towards Princess and dipped into a curtsy, "with your permission?"

  From within the robe emerged a child's stick thin hand, white as the horns on a horse-lizard, which gave Ishi a dismissive wave. Ishi laughed and strode away as Karl glanced down at the child in his arms. "You know she's making fun of you."

  The almost skeletal arm disappeared back into the robe. "I like her. Besides, her temple guard captain's tarnishing her honor by sleeping with other women, and she's trying to keep up a brave front. Now, are you done keeping Greywolf from getting dressed? I want to go back inside."

  Karl held up a hand with the back of his hand towards Greywolf, the customary way of saying goodbye, who gave him back the same. As Karl left, he said to the bundle in his arms, "Does her highness require anything else?"

  "Don't you start." Karl laughed and headed for the back door.

  What a strange child... I wonder if it's his, or where her mother might be? Best not to ask, I think. Climbing out of the pool, Greywolf dried off, then put on a pair of black trousers from the Eastern empire and a dark red tunic with Celtic knot embroidery on the hem, with the V neckline down the front. The only thing of his father’s he still had.

  As he knelt beside the pool, tucking his trouser cuffs into his leather boots, Ishi walked through the doorway carrying a wooden comb and a large lemon with brown spikes coming out of it. Greywolf begin to rise but she waved him back down. "It's easier if I don't have to stand on my tip-toes to do this."

  Greywolf went back to one knee as she laid the lemon on the stones and muttered a few words, the mana-fire opal in her belly beginning to glow again as she cupped her left hand. Warm air began blowing out from her palm, and Ishi held it up to his scalp as she combed his hair with her right. Greywolf closed his eyes while she continued. "Your mother's fur... hair, is dark, but yours is all silver-grey, which I'm sure is because you're one of the Celts. I'm curious, though: how much of you came from your mother?"

  Opening his eyes, Greywolf shrugged. "I've got her senses and toughness, which is a good thing considering the scraps we've been in. I'm also pretty much immune to disease. Not sure how much bigger I'll get, since I'm still growing, but—”

  "You're still growing?" He nodded and she shook her head in disbelief. "But you're a young man, not a child."

  "Don't tell Asena that or you'll get an earful. I'm twenty-five in human years, but in Celestial, what you call Oldenblood, I'm a lot less."

  Ishi made a face like she still found his true age hard to believe, but didn't comment, working on Greywolf’s hair until it was dry. She closed her left hand into a fist and the warm air stopped. "There, all done... and you do look more wolfish with your hair blown back."

  Greywolf smiled up at her as he picked up the lemon. "So what about this?"

  "Pull a clove out of the lemon and chew it up." This is odd, but I'll play along. Greywolf did as she asked, the taste of clove strong in his mouth as she took a deep breath. "Now, tradition demands that you kiss me."

  Greywolf climbed to his feet and opened his arms. "I think I'm beginning to like Bukhara." He bent down, and his mouth met hers in a kiss, their tongues sliding together like old friends.

  When they finally pulled apart, her face was flushed. "I'm a loyal wife who doesn't need a reputation any worse than the one I've got." Huh? Greywolf gave her a puzzled look and she said, "Never mind. Tradition now demands that you have to find another woman to give the lemon to and kiss her."

  "Can't I just give it back to you?"

  "Best that you don't," she replied with a sigh, "but there's plenty of willing women in Bukhara. Show them the lemon and if they smile at you, it means they're interested."

  "Then I'll go find one." Greywolf bowed to her as if a nobleman, making her smile as she curtsied back. Then she headed for a different door, the one leading into the kitchen, and he strode towards the back door and went into the hall. He tried the door to their room. Shite, Asena’s locked it. Glancing around, he saw no one else in the hall, so he opened up a gateway and stepped into the Shadowlands.

  Color bled away from the world until it became grey. Greywolf did a complete circle, making sure he hadn't stumbled upon a Shadow creature by accident, but nothing was moving. He stopped in front of the door. The stone walls remained solid but the door appeared dark and fully detailed as if an illusion, rippling as he walked through it into the room. He gave the room a quick glance and opened a gateway back. It formed and he reentered the real world again.

  The grey light of the Shadowlands became darkness. Shite, Asena must’ve put out the lamp. Greywolf stumbled around until he felt his pack and the sword belt beside it. The weapon was peace-bound with leather cords holding it in place inside the scabbard, but he always felt naked if he didn't have it with him. Detaching it from the pack, he retraced his steps into the Grey and back through the locked door. Still no one. Good. Greywolf strapped the sword to his back and headed for the common room.

  Asena was sitting cross-legged in front of a low table with Karl and Princess beside her, Porthos across the table, and a couple of the mercenaries from the caravan sitting beside him. Everyone except the child were drinking red wine from ceramic wine cups as Greywolf sat on the end between Porthos and Asena. She'd ordered food but seemed to be ignoring it, so he grabbed a wooden spoon and dug into the lentils, curried chicken, and mystery stew as Porthos went into a long discussion of Bukhara and its history.

  In short order he’d finished off the bowls and the mug of well watered beer Asena had hardly touched, wiped his mouth on a rag beside the mug and got to his feet. Asena looked up. "Where are you going?"

  Greywolf picked up the lemon and held it out. "Finding out more about local customs, as you told me I should start doing."

  Porthos and Karl both chuckled as Asena held out her hand. "Give me the sword."

  "Asena—”

  "The sword. You won't need it here and you'll think twice before causing any mischief." Meaning I know better than to spend much time in the Shadowlands unarmed. With a sigh, Greywolf unstrapped the scabbarded sword from his back and placed it on the black palm of her clawed hand. She set it on the floor beside her. "Don't be gone too long."

  Enough is enough. "You've got to let me off the leash someday."

  "After I'm dead," she replied before taking a long drink off her wine cup. "Then you can have all the freedom you want." There was no way he could answer that without starting a fight, so Greywolf spun on his heel, pushed through the beaded curtain, and slammed the door on his way outside.

  In the alley leading to the main street, Greywolf slowed down and took a deep breath. C'mon, you're not going to let her ruin your night again. Remember what papa taught you and let the anger go. Following his father’s advice, Greywolf willed himself to cool down as he continued down the alley to the main road. The sun was an orange ball going down behind the pyramids rising above the walls of the Temple District, which was definitely not a place he wanted to go. So instead he turned right.

  The crowds were like a raging torrent of happy people, gathering him up and sweeping him along with them as if a leaf on the water, the roads lined with more red brick buildings with wooden stalls out front. Greywolf stood at least a head taller than everyone else, so it was easy to see the plaza off to the left of the road, with its stone platform rising above the crowd. On the platform were people in robes distributing something. Is this another custom, perhaps? I owe it to Asena to investigate and report back. Greywolf could practically hear her derisive snort as he wove his way through the crowd and headed straight towards the platform.