Fink followed as she fled through the night, over hill and through the forests. Her retreat took most of the fun out of it, though. He'd hoped for more of a fight. After only a few quick licks, she turned tail and made straight for her grave.
When he finally caught her in that miserable cliff-village, he found her waiting at her grave cairn. Crazy laughter tinkled from her lips, as if she'd challenged him to a race and won.
The lightness of her mood sent a tremor of doubt through Fink.
"I see nothing good in your future, imp," she said.
His lips peeled back in a sneer. "How long have you had the Sight, lady?"
"How long have you had it?" she mocked, as if she knew damned well he didn't have it. She laughed again, secure in the Right of Last Kin, secure in the limits of power Harric laid upon him, secure in whatever it was she saw in the web.
Fink bristled. Where'd she gotten her understanding of the Unseen? The Sight was not enough to bring the depth of knowledge she displayed, nor that moon-blasted confidence. He narrowed his eyes as if to better pick out clues in the wash of strands that boiled upward from her spirit. She might be a Spinner's pet. He could find no Spinner's mark upon her, but two of the three Spinners could be relied on to mark pets only subtly, and sometimes not at all. That made him nervous. He wouldn't meddle with a Spinner. Not directly.
Her eyes laughed as if she read his thoughts. Her lips pressed together and her thin eyebrows raised. She cocked her head as if to say, "I'll never tell."
He had nothing to lose. Why not prompt her? "Where'd all your frenzy and wailing go?" he croaked, as if he knew the answer and wanted her to know he knew. "That was quite an act."
Her eyes brightened as if she saw the feint coming a mile away. "I know what you want from him. I could have told him, but that would have skewed the futures. But I can tell you something: you won't get what you're after, imp. He'll outmaneuver you, as he did me."
"Yeah? Well he knows all your tricks, lady. He don't know mine."
She laughed and watched him. "So speaks ignorance and pride."
Fink felt a prickle of irritation. At the same time he glimpsed the slightest hint of doubt behind her mask of certainty. If he'd looked away he would have missed it. She was that good. A kind of awed respect dawned in Fink even as the leer of triumph spread across his face. "Gotcha," he said. "Nice try, lady. But you can't trick a trickster."
The doubt was gone from her eyes, but now her laughter seemed forced.
His interest waned. "We're done here, lady. Get in your grave, or — "
She'd already gone.
He stood in silence, disappointed. What a killjoy. No begging and gnashing of teeth. No fun. She'd dodged all that.
But what game had she been at? He pondered their exchange, searching for seams. She seemed to have wanted Fink to believe it had been part of her plan all along for Fink to apprentice her son. That she'd had no intention of reuniting with Harric. But to what end would she do that? To save face? She seemed far too clever and complex for that. What then? To put him off his guard? Off his guard from what? The kid?
It didn't make sense. But it didn't matter anymore. She was back where she belonged. He lifted the fallen capstone from the ground beside the cairn, and returned it to the top. Then he shook his head to clear it, the way a dog shakes its head after swimming, and dusted his hands.
"All right, kid. Now you owe me."
He turned toward the east, where, in the distant forest, the young Arkendian awaited his return. The kid knew nothing of the Unseen. He was a blank slate. Almost, there was no challenge to it. But the kid had said, No contract. No slaves. He glanced around for his snooping sisters, who would love to catch him in a misstep like that.
What was he playing at? Had his mother put him up to that?
Fink launched himself into the air and flapped his way eastward, thinking on the matter.
He could hear the kid out. He could put a truth geas on him to be sure no one put him up to it. And then what? Freedom?
Fink's jaws widened, and the wind almost purred between the thicket of needle teeth. Freedom. Now that was power. A surge of desire thrilled through him, and though the sky already grew pale in the east, he redoubled his efforts and flew faster than he ever had.
* * * THE END ! * * *
Look for BOOK 2, THE KNAVE OF SOULS, in Spring of 2015!
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The Jack of Souls (Multi-award winner!)
Fantasy************************************************************************************** An outcast rogue must break a curse put on his fate, or die on his nineteenth birthday. To survive, he'll need the sword of a maiden, the aid of an immortal, and...
