The Venomancer

II.3 - The Wolves' Weakness

"There's no need to keep preaching to me, Dingo," Tan assured. "Cassa's earned my trust thrice over. He's helped me in situations worse than this. Far worse."

"Very well," sighed Dingo. "But one more thing: Be guarded with your identity. You are a wanted thief with a sizeable bounty over your head from half the desert, and you're becoming almost as notorious as Roland Shiv."

Tan smiled at him joylessly, got to his feet and held out his hand for Cassa to fetch him the jar. Using the length of rope that had bound his wrists and a square of soft leather beneath the saddle of Cassa's horse, he wrapped the jar in a bundle and tied it to Dingo's tufted back, secured about the belly and breast. He retrieved the cotton knife belt from around the canid's neck and buckled it about his waist. In one pouch he dropped the Odeise lighter and other items from his pockets, and then patted another to feel the two jade-hilted knives safely tucked up inside. The Fetcher was armed again - not that he possessed any skills in combat in the first place.

Tan scribbled a note on a scrap of hemp from his belt. 'Enough for six weeks', he wrote with charcoal, 'one spoon mixed into water once a day. Tastes vile. I can't return now as I'd hoped, but I'm safe. Maedhros watch you both. My love.'

"A thief that can write," Dingo commented as Tan slipped the note inside the leather. "Using Odeise characters, no less. What kind of foreign commonfolk does that make you, child?"

Tan brushed off the question. "Be swift," he said, running his fingers through the beast's long, white mane one last time. "Phaladri's life rests on this. If you find Shara tell her I'm fine and that I'll see her again by the next turn of Mornöig Va. She'll know what I mean ... Or at least her fiancé will."

"Leaving you here breaks my heart," the beast sighed. "Howl for me often - I may hear you in the wind."

"I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

"Nor do I."

With a final, longing look at him Dingo turned towards Cassa. "And, Captain Faro, know that if circumstances were different I would not be leaving his life in your hands. If aught ill befalls him, I will not hesitate to tear out your throat and taste your Farban blood on my tongue. Mayhaps I am a ghûl, after all."

Beside him, Cassa swallowed.

Dingo started west across the orange wastes, his silver tail trailing behind him as he picked up pace. For a few moments Tan tracked the beast's retreating form until it vanished into the growing dimness.

"Now I've repaid Shara for my life and saved Phaladri, I suppose it's you I owe for my wellbeing - if not inadvertently. I'm grateful you didn't turn me in, my friend."

"Don't dwell on it," Cassa said as he swung up onto his horse. "I realise the importance of allies far outweighs my vows. Nor would I like to be responsible for the death of a friend after finding him miraculously alive." Cassa shook his head. "Tcha. Perhaps one day you'll explain to me how you did it. Now, how do you suppose we get you back into the citadel without being outright arrested?"

***

When Voya Faro answered the door of the terraced Lakeshore home, his eyes went as round as a three markagel piece. It seemed to take him a moment to peer through the uniform and the paint before he realised that the youngest of his older brothers filled the doorway, and not the law.

"Cassa!" he grinned. "You startled me, ya did!"

"Pardons for knocking uninvited, but I'm in need of a favour. May I enter?"

Voya backed away from the entrance. "You don't need to knock'n ask to come into your family home, ya know. Get inside before someone sees you and starts peltin' rocks your way."

"My thanks." He removed his head-scarf, letting his hair fall down into his eyes again, and followed his brother onto the premises. "You're getting markedly taller every time I see you, Voya. How long until your fifteenth summer?"

"Two months an' eight days ... Oi, who's that?"

Tan smiled uncomfortably.

"This is ..." Cassa faltered, holding the door open for him. "Erm..."

"Fenin," Tan said. "Fenin Aughtonlyle of Burderskel."

Cassa seemed impressed. "Fenin, this is my brother, Voya. Brother, don't you dare tell another soul you've met him. Do you understand me?"

"Why?"

"Ah. Don't ask questions."

"Maedhros bless you, my friend," Tan intervened, which Voya received with some uncertainty. "May I?"

"Sure, whatever. Come in."

Their family home had a cluttered, homely feel and Tan soon understood where Cassa inherited his habits as a collector, though the Faro household bordered on hoarding. Barely an inch of the white clay walls peeked through the assemblage of local oddments: engraved panels from the hulls of old fishing boats, ragged nets and baskets, hooks, fishing spears and coils of rope. A frayed brown flag belonging to a nation Tan didn't recognise hung from the beam above him, and yellowed jars with charred bottoms dangled from the ceilings. The flagstone floor beneath had a welcome coolness on his feet, if not a little gritty. Voya led them past a fire in its grate and into the living area, where they knelt on cushions noticeably less fat than those found in Cassa's villa.

"So," Voya said, bouncing on his heels a little, "what're you doin' here, Cassa? Ain't you two supposed to be keepin' the citadel in check? Enforcing High Farban justice, slicin' down pesky Gamlakhi like me and such?"

Tan half raised his hand. "Oh, I'm not -"

"That's the reason we're here," Cassa cut in, "the Guard. You can keep a secret, can't you, Brother? I can trust you."

"Yes, suh. Why? What's goin' on?"

"Well, between us, Fenin ought not to be known by anybody else in the Brotherhood. Or anyone at all, for that matter."

"What's that supposed to mean? Is he famous?"

Cassa sucked air through his teeth. "Try the opposite."

"You're a criminal?" Voya asked Tan. "Ha! You? What did ya do?"

"That's not of importance," Cassa said before Tan could so much as draw breath. "The point is that I need to sneak him past my peers on the way in. And you're just the man to help me."