deep aqua
shadows. His eyes were wide; twin circles of amazement.
“Give that to me, Faylle.”
A shiver ran down her spine at the
use of her name. He only ever used that name late at night, when he wanted
favors of her.
She flicked a corner of the
handkerchief back over the stone, cutting off the blue glow. “I made a
promise,” she said. “It is a promise I intend to keep.”
“Do you know what that -”
“Your sister is dead.”
The man’s face became cold, hard,
like the stone. Thick brows knitted.
Faylle stood solidly, feet planted
slightly apart, jaw set. She clutched the stone in her fist and shoved it back
into her pocket. She bore no weapons, nothing with which to defend herself.
“You murdered her,” the man said,
and stepped toward her. One step, no more.
Faylle held her ground. “I did. It
was the least she deserved, after what the two of you did to us. All of us.
I’ll murder you as I did her. Will you beg as she did? Will you scream as she
did? Will you give me her lifestone, as she gave me yours?”
He stared at her. “What will you do
with that, Faylle?”
“I promised my father something, a
long time ago, when he still held his wits and the whole pack of them was ready
to tear down onto this tower and end your lives. I promised him that I would
kill the both of you.”
The man didn’t flicker an eyelid,
and remained silent for some time. Then he said, “We can come to an agreement,
beautiful Faylle. You and I.”
“You said I’m ugly. I’ve outlived
my use to you,” Faylle spat.
He licked his lips. “You
misunderstand.”
“Why?”
Hesitation. “Because I can set your
family and kinsmen free. What has been done can be undone. I’ve nearly finished
with the valley, Faylle. My work is nearly complete. I’ve stripped these lands
of their magical properties. Bottled them up. Carted them away. I can leave
now, today, if this suits you. Think of it, Faylle. All as it was.”
“You stole my life from me.”
“I’ve stolen many things.”
“You stole everything.” Faylle
pulled the stone from her pocket, opened up the handkerchief again. Blue light
painted the room.
“Faylle, please -”
“They would be wolves in men’s
bodies, if you brought them back. I’ve learned that from you.”
“Faylle, my Wolf Lady, let us be
reasonable.”
“I’m a dead woman here. A dead Wolf
Lady, a woman who can speak with wolves because she should have been one.
There’s no magic anymore. Only heat and death and wolves.”
She leaned down, set the stone on
the floor. Rising, she said, “I used to love the wolves. There were real wolves
here, once. And you drove them away. I made a promise, and I keep my promises,
even if you do not.” She looked over the table at her right, found a fist-sized
rock being used as a paperweight, and picked it up.
Promises.
She crouched close to the floor and
raised her arm. The man let out a wail.
“Spare me!”
Faylle’s deep brown eyes met his
clear blue. “My father asked that of you. What was your answer?”
Her arm came down.
The man cried out as his lifestone
shattered into a hundred pieces, scattered across the floor as his body fell.
She watched as the flesh pulled back from his face, and his eyes grew milky
white. His body lay thin and wan, blotchy skin pulled taut over rickety bones.
Wisps of white hair fell from his skull and face, surrounded him in snowy
puffs.
Faylle stood, went to his corpse.
She kicked it with one foot, listened to the dull thump. Outside, in the hall,
she heard something crumbling, thudding to the floor. She spent no time lingering
around the body, as she always thought she would.
Instead, she went to the door,
opened it, and stared into the hall. The marble encasing the bodies of her
family and kinsman had crumbled to the floor. Lying atop the rubble were their
inert bodies, devoid of spirit.
She started into the hallway,
walked past the empty shells, stared into one face, then another. The noise
shadows. His eyes were wide; twin circles of amazement.
“Give that to me, Faylle.”
A shiver ran down her spine at the
use of her name. He only ever used that name late at night, when he wanted
favors of her.
She flicked a corner of the
handkerchief back over the stone, cutting off the blue glow. “I made a
promise,” she said. “It is a promise I intend to keep.”
“Do you know what that -”
“Your sister is dead.”
The man’s face became cold, hard,
like the stone. Thick brows knitted.
Faylle stood solidly, feet planted
slightly apart, jaw set. She clutched the stone in her fist and shoved it back
into her pocket. She bore no weapons, nothing with which to defend herself.
“You murdered her,” the man said,
and stepped toward her. One step, no more.
Faylle held her ground. “I did. It
was the least she deserved, after what the two of you did to us. All of us.
I’ll murder you as I did her. Will you beg as she did? Will you scream as she
did? Will you give me her lifestone, as she gave me yours?”
He stared at her. “What will you do
with that, Faylle?”
“I promised my father something, a
long time ago, when he still held his wits and the whole pack of them was ready
to tear down onto this tower and end your lives. I promised him that I would
kill the both of you.”
The man didn’t flicker an eyelid,
and remained silent for some time. Then he said, “We can come to an agreement,
beautiful Faylle. You and I.”
“You said I’m ugly. I’ve outlived
my use to you,” Faylle spat.
He licked his lips. “You
misunderstand.”
“Why?”
Hesitation. “Because I can set your
family and kinsmen free. What has been done can be undone. I’ve nearly finished
with the valley, Faylle. My work is nearly complete. I’ve stripped these lands
of their magical properties. Bottled them up. Carted them away. I can leave
now, today, if this suits you. Think of it, Faylle. All as it was.”
“You stole my life from me.”
“I’ve stolen many things.”
“You stole everything.” Faylle
pulled the stone from her pocket, opened up the handkerchief again. Blue light
painted the room.
“Faylle, please -”
“They would be wolves in men’s
bodies, if you brought them back. I’ve learned that from you.”
“Faylle, my Wolf Lady, let us be
reasonable.”
“I’m a dead woman here. A dead Wolf
Lady, a woman who can speak with wolves because she should have been one.
There’s no magic anymore. Only heat and death and wolves.”
She leaned down, set the stone on
the floor. Rising, she said, “I used to love the wolves. There were real wolves
here, once. And you drove them away. I made a promise, and I keep my promises,
even if you do not.” She looked over the table at her right, found a fist-sized
rock being used as a paperweight, and picked it up.
Promises.
She crouched close to the floor and
raised her arm. The man let out a wail.
“Spare me!”
Faylle’s deep brown eyes met his
clear blue. “My father asked that of you. What was your answer?”
Her arm came down.
The man cried out as his lifestone
shattered into a hundred pieces, scattered across the floor as his body fell.
She watched as the flesh pulled back from his face, and his eyes grew milky
white. His body lay thin and wan, blotchy skin pulled taut over rickety bones.
Wisps of white hair fell from his skull and face, surrounded him in snowy
puffs.
Faylle stood, went to his corpse.
She kicked it with one foot, listened to the dull thump. Outside, in the hall,
she heard something crumbling, thudding to the floor. She spent no time lingering
around the body, as she always thought she would.
Instead, she went to the door,
opened it, and stared into the hall. The marble encasing the bodies of her
family and kinsman had crumbled to the floor. Lying atop the rubble were their
inert bodies, devoid of spirit.
She started into the hallway,
walked past the empty shells, stared into one face, then another. The noise
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