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"I've always known you that well. Now out with it or in with it or both, my
stallion."
He pushed himself up on his elbow and kissed her. "Both."
"So? What is it?"
"I'm looking for a mon named Dinger."
She quit stroking him and rolled away on her side, thinking. "My dear, fine
stallion," she said, turning back to him. "Dinger is a very, very dangerous
mon. He works for Cedarbird. If you should find him he might kill you. He
would certainly kill me if he should by any means and he has many, not all
of them human find out it was I told you what he is and where to find him."
"I would die before I told him."
"That is what I fear. That you would die."
"That's my job. Aejys says find him, bring him. So I do it. You are the only
person I have asked. If I ask all over about him, then he will become aware of
me before I am aware of him. That will put me in danger. However, if you help
me now then he will not know."
"So be it. His full name is Arlethan Dinger. The word on the streets is that
he is not just an apostate priest, but that he is a necromancer, maybe even a
sa'necari. When one of Cedarbird's women starts to lose her looks or lets
herself get pregnant by forgetting to use the moon oils or for any of a
thousand reasons should anger Cedarbird, he gives them to Dinger. Dinger, it
is said, takes mortgiefan from them, then preserves their bodies to satisfy
his lusts until he gets another one."
Omer dropped back onto the bed and lay there in silence for a very long time,
wrapped in a nearly overwhelming sense of foreboding. If Dinger was everything
Janine claimed, and she had never been wrong before, then the danger to his
wounded liege-lord and the household was far greater than anyone expected. An
attack could come at any time, a sa'necari did have to wait for more
resources, he was a very deadly and unpredictable element added into an
already dangerous mix.
"Have I chilled your very bones, my stallion? Are you man enough to have
another go with me in spite of it."
Omer forced aside his troubling thoughts as he rose on his elbows to kiss her
deeply, his open shirt brushing across her nipples. "I will always be man
enough for another go, Janine."
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* * * *
Around the time that Omer was dressing to go to the Quarter, Josh was pushing
open the gate to Branch's little enclave. After more than a week of brooding,
he had finally come to confront Branch about Skree's revelations. He meant to
come earlier, yet had not found the courage.
Josh sensed the residue of dark magic about the house; it lay thick over the
yard like an oily unseen spill of contamination. He shivered inside his coat
and cloak and not from the cold. He paused beside the totem pole, pressing his
hand to the out-stretched raven's wing. Then he saw the dead birds, seven
ravens scattered before the doorstep. He knelt and picked one up. There was no
mark on the bird. It had not died from a physical assault. He laid it back
where it had fallen, fear and worry kindling in his heart. He raced up the
steps and pounded on the door.
Bluewings let Josh in, her eyes were deeply shadowed, and bruised looking.
The corners of her mouth sagged.
"What happened?" Josh asked.
"Bad things. Very bad things. Something evil got past Grandfather's wards. It
killed the ravens. Tried to kill us all. My brothers..." Her face twisted in
distress, and she crumpled. Josh caught her, lifting her into his arms. He
turned about, scanning the large room. There were four blanket-covered bodies
near the fire. Branch, a bright blanket around his shoulders, sat staring into
the flames with his back to Josh.
"Take her upstairs," he said without turning. "Put her to bed."
Josh carried Bluewings up the plank steps onto the upper tier. The large,
single room had cedar weavings on two sides instead of walls. The two wooden
walls on the side and at the back were hung with bright, cedar strip weavings
in geometric patterns. Six simple beds of straw covered by blankets were set
along the walls, separated by folding screens which had been knocked over.
Josh laid Bluewings down, felt for a pulse, found it, and dragged blankets
over her. They had played together as children, rushing about the strand or
digging for clams. He felt distressed and uneasy looking down at her. He
tucked her in and kissed her cheek. A tremor of anger ran through him: Whoever
did this would pay.
He rejoined Branch by the fire, his eyes drawn to the bodies time and again
as he tried to concentrate on the old shaman. Josh shuddered as he stared at
the blanket-wrapped bodies. He squatted beside Branch, looking into his
haggard and drawn face. The old shaman appeared to be in a state close to
shock. Branch and Bluewings needed more help than Josh could provide.
"It entered," Branch said, sounding distant and unfocused. "Its master
attacked me directly, mind to mind, magic to magic. Bluewings joined her
powers to mine and we cast out the master, sent away his creature. But while
we struggled with him, his creature killed my grandsons."
Josh went to the bodies, flicking back the blankets. The first body set his
stomach heaving. The man had fang marks on his throat, defense wounds on his
arms, his stomach had been ripped open, and there was nothing left in it just
an empty cavity. The next two were the same. The last one had only the marks
on his throat where the blood had been drained away.
"Why hasn't anyone from the village come to help you?"
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