means I won't be around Stormweather for a little while longer, but I'll come back soon. And I promise not to avoid you.'
'Yes, master Talbot,' she said. 'Whatever you say, master Talbot.'
'Oh, stop it. Even before we knew you're my sister-'
'Not so loud!' warned Larajin. 'I haven't told anyone else.'
'Why not? He's got to recognize you, doesn't he?'
'Maybe he is thinking of Lady Shamur.'
'Oh,' said Tal.
Thamalon might not be keeping a mistress these days, but Larajin was born after Tamlin. That much was obvious. Now that his parents were getting along so much better these days, Tal saw why Thamalon might choose not to disturb the past.
'But don't you deserve to be recognized as an Uskevren?'
'I thought about that,' said Larajin. 'Perhaps one day that's what I will want. For now, there are too many other changes happening in my life. I'm not ready to begin a new one.'
'I know what you mean,' said Tal. 'Everything was a lot simpler when we were young.'
'We're still young, you great goof. We're just not children anymore.'
'Maybe that's why it used to be a lot easier.'
Chapter 19
Tarsakh, 1372 DR
At first, Darrow feared he might have the wrong street. In the afternoon light, there was no question of identifying a known house, but he knew Talbot Uskevren's tallhouse only by description. Alaspar Lane seemed right, but he wasn't sure which one he wanted until he saw the guards.
He spotted the family guards first. They made no effort to bide. Two of them stood to either side of the front door of the three-story building, while two more guarded either end of the lane. Their bright blue cloaks and yellow horse-at-anchor emblems marked them clearly as Uskevren house guards. Their conspicuous locations confirmed Barrow's suspicion that they were posted more to warn Talbot off than to apprehend him.
The Scepters were somewhat subtler. Four of them stood in a cluster across the street from the tallhouse. If there were others, they were well hidden at the farthest range of a signal whistle. From the occasional glances the Scepters cast at the Uskevren house guards, Darrow saw that there was little affection between the two camps. He wondered briefly whether the guard would fight the Scepters to cover the young man's escape if he were so foolish as to show himself.
“Too bold to hide,' murmured Darrow. It seemed a ridiculous motto for any of the Old Chauncel, whose successes more often depended on diplomacy and bidding wars than military conflicts.
Most house militia were simply bodyguards, but something about the proud posture of the Uskevren men made Darrow wonder just how much provocation it would take to ignite a conflict like those that had brought low both House Uskevren and House Malveen a generation earlier. Perversely, he wished Stannis Malveen were present so he could ask his opinion. Of course, Lord Malveen would never show himself in the daylight.
Unless Talbot was much slipperier than Darrow expected, there was no way he'd find shelter at his tall-house with so many eyes upon it. There was one other obvious place for the fugitive Uskevren to take shelter. Fortunately, it was not far away.
Darrow had no reason to fear the guards, so he walked down the lane between them. Too bold to hide, he joked silently. That would make a good motto for the pack, who walked boldly through the herd here in Selgaunt. None of the lambs realized there were wolves among them, and they wouldn't-not until the wolves chose to reveal themselves.
When he arrived at the playhouse, Darrow found the outer court deserted. A sign over each entrance read CLOSED in big letters, followed by a flowery apology written in fine calligraphy. Rather than approach closely enough to read the words, Darrow walked to the tiny park nearby and found an unoccupied bench. The seat afforded him a good view of the rear entrance and one of the public entrances.
Darrow watched for almost an hour. No one entered or left the building in that time, and he saw no sign of city Scepters watching the place. That surprised him, since the playhouse seemed an obvious haven for Talbot Uskevren. Either the Scepters underestimated the strength of his connection to the place, or they considered it an unlikely refuge for other reasons. Or, thought Darrow, they had someone adept at remaining unseen watching the place.
When the sun touched the horizon, Darrow knew he could wait no longer. If Feena and Talbot had returned to the city, as he assumed they would, then he knew of no other place they might hide. If they hadn't gotten into the playhouse earlier in the day, he thought it unlikely they would try so close to dusk. The moon would rise soon after dark, and it was far more difficult to resist the call of the beast on a full moon than it was to summon the transformation on other nights. What he had to do was hard enough without his suddenly turning into the wolf.
One last look around revealed no suspicious figures, so Darrow went to the back door of the playhouse. Like the others, it bore a sign and an apology for the cancelled performances. Darrow beat on the door with his fist. He waited a moment, then banged again.
A big woman with biceps like catapult shots opened the door. Darrow recognized her as one of the players, the infamous Mistress Quickly herself. He had seen her perform in both male and female roles each time he'd come to the playhouse as Stannis Malveen's eyes in the city. She clenched a straight-stemmed pipe between her jaws. The smoking bowl bobbed as she spoke through gritted teeth.
'Closed, it says.' She pointed to the sign and blew smoke out her nostrils.
'I know,' he said. 'I'm a friend of Talbot Uskevren. I have an important mess-'
'You thought wrong, sweetie,' she said, closing the door in his face.
Darrow got a foot inside the jamb before it shut. He sniffed deeply, trying to scent past the stink of pipe smoke and the woman's garlic breath. Besides the strong smell of greasepaint and timbers, he detected the odor of human sweat and something else. Mingled among the other smells was the musk of two different kinds of animals. One was a strange smell, oily and somehow hot. The other was the more familiar musk of wolves, including one particular wolf.
'Much as I hate to bust up a potential customer,' said the woman, Til rattle your head on the street if you don't back off.'
She pushed the door open, shoving Darrow back. She was even stronger than she looked, maybe even stronger than Darrow.
'I know he's here!' he said more loudly than she obviously liked. She looked left and right. Seeing no witnesses, she cocked a fist and prepared to bludgeon Darrow.
'Is he alone?' asked someone behind Quickly. Darrow recognized Feena's voice.
'Yeah,' answered Quickly. 'Nothing I can't handle on my own.'
'Let him in,' said Feena.
'Yer kiddin', right?'
'No,' said Feena. 'He's here to help.'
Darrow gave the red-haired cleric a grateful srnile.^
'Sure about that?' asked Quickly. She took the pipe from her mouth and blew a stream of smoke at Darrow through the gap in her big front teeth.
'No,' said Feena, 'but if he's not, it'll be better to kill him inside.'
Darrow realized he had not won the cleric's trust, but the fervor with which she threatened him still scared him. He had thought Selune was a gentle goddess. Perhaps she made an exception when one of her clerics had been slain.
'Good enough for me,' rumbled Quickly. She slapped Darrow smartly on the buttocks. 'Get in there, boy.'
