Serpent's Quest

Chapter Eleven: Wayward Decisions

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WAYWARD DECISIONS

Kynyr straightened his brown and claret tunic before knocking on the door to Claw's study.

Sunlight flooded the east side of the deep box of a room, creating an aureole around the chair at the desk where Claw sat. The heavy claret drapes had been tied back and the thin, bleached linen under curtains did little to diffuse the light from the windows. A carved wolf's head topped Claw's tall chair, lending it a throne-like quality. Kynyr always thought that Claw looked most like a king – which he technically was – sitting in that chair.

"You sent for me?"

Claw gestured at one of the three chairs in front of his desk. "Sit down, Kynyr. I've decided upon some changes."

Kynyr settled into the closest chair and sat straight. "Concerning me?"

"Among others. I want a unit of eight moved into the main living area ... and one officer."

"How do I fit into that?"

"I'm promoting you."

Kynyr sucked in a startled breath. "Belgair..."

Claw gave Kynyr a stern, searching look. "Are you afraid of Belgair?"

"No, sir." Kynyr retreated into formality. "I'm not afraid of anyone."

Claw cleared his throat.

"Except yourself, of course."

The chieftain chuckled at Kynyr's correction. He took a bottle of whiskey and a pair of glasses from a drawer in his desk, and gestured at Kynyr with the bottle. Kynyr answered with a nod and Claw poured for both of them.

Kynyr began to relax, sipping the whiskey. "What is it exactly that you wanted?"

"I want nine wolves keeping watch on my womenfolk. Bad times are coming."

"Agreed. So, Fianait, Searlait, and Aisha..."

"And Merissa. I don't trust that mon she's been seeing in the gardens."

"Malthus?"

"Aye. That one. I fill the place up with good looking young wolves ... and who does she chase? A scruffy, grimy human."

"Claw, he's neat, tidy, and clean..."

"You know what I meant." Claw snarled and hair sprouted along his arms.

"If you're expecting me to compete with this Malthus person for Merissa, I can't do it."

"Why not?" Claw's expression turned ugly, and an edge of bitterness crept into his voice. "I thought it didn't bother you that she'd played the slut for two sa'necari."

Kynyr shifted uneasily in his seat. Every time Claw used a nasty turn of phrase in describing Merissa, he found himself questioning whether Claw's savage disapprobation reflected the chieftain's personal opinion, or if Claw was using it to test Kynyr's feelings. After more than three years, the vicious gossip concerning Merissa's liaison with Isranon had slowed in only the slightest degree. "Your daughter was never a slut, Claw. She loved him."

"Don't defend her. Fifty years ago, they would have stoned her to death for it. Regardless of whose daughter she was."

Kynyr lowered his head, unable to answer that. "I'm fond of Merissa."

"You'd make a fine chieftain when I'm gone."

"I don't wish to be chieftain." Kynyr shifted uneasily.