Wolf's-own: Koan (20 page)

"You are Kel-seyh, I should imagine,” the woman said with a low nod to Samin. And then she looked between Joori and Jacin, almost bowed this time, but not quite. “Fen-seyh. Fen-seyh.” She straightened. “I am Imara of Wolf. I come at Kamen's request.” She gestured at the door, where Morin and Shig had slatted it open and were peeking through the narrow opening. “Might we speak?"

Morin had been out and about with Samin several times since they'd come to Tambalon. He'd seen people of different color before. Mitsu was fairly diverse, and though Morin's own olive skin was darker than most here, he'd been rather fascinated by the new knowledge that people came in more colors than what he'd seen in the Jin camp where he'd lived for all but a few months of his life. The contrast between the Jin prisoners and the Adan who guarded them was sometimes hard to see, if one only looked at physical features; sometimes you had to look at the eyes, look for the defeated notes in the gaze of a Jin to see the difference. Even in his brief experiences in Ada, Morin hadn't seen so many distinctions as he had in two weeks in Mitsu. Some pale as ghosts and fair-haired, like that Tatsu, or dark as night, like Sora, but Mitsu was like a big, earth-toned rainbow, every color in the limited spectrum represented.

He'd never seen anyone like this woman. Skin a light brown that Morin distractedly named “cinnamon,” but with an almost russet underlay that gave her skin tone a burnished depth that almost had its own darkling glow. Her black hair was cut straight to the shoulders and slicked back so that her sharp gold eyes shone out like lamps.
A wolf's eyes
, Morin couldn't help thinking.

He'd be willing to bet this one didn't need to expend a whole lot of
Temshiel
magic to get mortals to do anything she wanted—all she had to do was point those eyes at someone and they'd fall over themselves to hand her things she didn't even need to ask for.

"...do we even know you're who you say you are?” Joori, suspicious and territorial as ever. “And if you're from Wolf, why didn't we see you when everything went to shit in Ada? Don't you people help each other?"

They'd filed in from the hall, Imara first, with Jacin and Samin keeping sharp eyes on her the whole while. Imara seemed to be trying very hard to make herself unthreatening, seating herself in Shig's chair, her back to the door, where Jacin leaned with his hands hovering over his knife sheaths. Joori and Morin sat to either side of Imara, with Shig across the card-strewn table and Samin behind her, ostensibly casual, but he made sure his right hand was free and the tethers on his scabbard were loose. The fact that Imara had healed all of the wounds Samin had accumulated tonight with a single touch to his shoulder didn't seem to have put Samin in a more trusting mood. Morin
did not
smirk.

Imara smiled, soft and kind, and set a hand gently to Joori's shoulder like they were old friends. “I was forbidden from Ada by Wolf himself. When one of our own was murdered, all of Wolf's were forbidden from Ada.” She angled a look over her shoulder and peered levelly at Jacin; Jacin only stared blankly back. “The matter of the Catalyst was for Kamen, and Kamen alone. What Fen Jacin is and has always been is now a matter for Wolf."

That got a twitch out of Jacin. Imara narrowed her eyes a little, but when she turned back to Joori, her smile was as soft as it had been before.

"No
Temshiel
or maijin could have possibly been as valuable to Fate and to the Jin as the Paradox and the Key that was set in Kamen's hand. I don't know how the tale will be told in the annals of Jin history, but Fen Joori is a name known by all the gods and their servants."

Even if it was complete bullshit—and Morin didn't think it was, actually—it had a definite effect on Joori. He flushed a little, eyes glittering, and looked away.

Morin almost snorted. And Malick thought
he
had charisma.

The thought sobered Morin. Up until Imara had shown up, he'd been telling himself that maybe Shig had been wrong. She didn't have her spirits, after all, so how could she know? Except it was too easy to believe that Malick had found a way to make
sure
they knew, put them on their guard, once he knew he wouldn't be there to protect Jacin. Because Joori could say whatever he wanted, but Morin knew that Jacin was everything to Malick. You didn't even have to be terribly observant to see it, and you only had to know Jacin for a little while to see it was the same for him. Except Jacin was killing himself trying to fight it. A struggle that Joori was only encouraging and confusing, when, really, it could've been a lot less angsty and overwrought than it was turning out to be. And all of this uproar tonight was only going to make it worse. The last thing Jacin needed was
more
confusion. Malick's sudden absence, just when Jacin was starting to let himself believe a little, was only going to cast doubt where it didn't need to be.

"...brother has been through enough.” Joori had apparently decided to ignore the charm and show his claws. “If I'd known Malick was planning on dragging him into this whole
banpair
thing in the first place, I would have put a stop to it."

Morin shot a look over at Jacin, just to see if that got any reaction, but it didn't. Jacin just kept staring blankly, though his hands kept flexing and fisting over the hilts of his knives, and it looked like he was trying very hard not to twitch.

"If it hadn't been for Malick,” Joori went on, “they wouldn't even know Jacin existed."

"I think you're wrong there, Joori,” Samin put in. “They were waiting for us. They knew we were coming, and they waited, gave us a fight to get our measure and then struck like cowards from the shadows. I can't
wait
to see how pissed Malick is that he got it in the back and that the only blaze of glory came from his own improvised pyre.” He shook his head at Imara. “Malick said they had magic he couldn't do much with. In my opinion, they were purposely getting Malick out of the way, trying to get at....” He trailed off and shot an uncomfortable glance at Jacin.

"So, then.” Imara sighed and slumped back a little. “They know what Fen Jacin is."

"What d'you mean, ‘what he is'?” Morin couldn't help blurting. “Get Malick out of the way for what?” He looked again at Jacin, but there was still no reaction. “Jacin was Untouchable but now he's not anymore. Joori's right—if they were after Jacin, it had to be because they were after Malick.” He peered around at all of them, letting his gaze rest on Samin. “Right?"

"What difference does it make?” Joori snapped. “Whatever it was, Malick dragged Jacin into it, and Jacin has no business or reason to take it any further. If they wanted Malick, they got him. If they wanted Jacin, it was because of Malick and they can't have him.” He turned to Jacin, eyes hopeful, almost pleading. “Jacin, we're done, understand? We'll find a way to get some money, and we'll leave. There is no reason for you to get dragged into whatever Malick's business was with those... whatever they were. We'll go where they can't find you, and we'll start over. All right?"

Morin rubbed at his brow.

For pity's sake, they'd risked their souls for one another. How blind did a person have to be? Morin could understand it with Jacin—because, really, how rational could he expect Jacin to be, after everything?—but there was no excuse for it from Joori. Well, there was, but not one that would help in the scheme of things.

Knowing Malick would come back wasn't going to do it for Jacin—all of this was going to hit him a hell of a lot harder than Morin thought Joori suspected, and probably sooner rather than later. If Morin knew Jacin, this threat of
banpair
coming for him for who-knew-what reason this time wasn't going to be much of a threat. In Morin's opinion, and with the state Jacin was in right now, they could set Jacin loose on the entire coven and he'd plow through every one of them, just on the tails of the anger and betrayal too obviously ramming around inside him right this minute. Joori was terrified, Morin could hear it in the stridency of his arguments, but Joori just couldn't seem to acknowledge how bloody
good
Jacin was at what he did. Or the fact that Jacin might
want
to do what was being implied. For Malick, yeah, but for himself too.

Morin couldn't tell what Imara was thinking. She didn't have that smirky
fuck you
look to her that Malick always got when Joori was being a prick. She simply peered around at all of them, her sharp gold eyes set in her smooth skin making her look like something that had just stepped out of some artist's conception of what
Temshiel
should look like. Morin never really thought of Malick as
Temshiel
, because he always seemed so... normal. The only time Morin had to acknowledge what Malick really was, was when he tripped over Malick's magic and didn't have much of a choice. This Imara just oozed
Temshiel
, even when she wasn't trying to.

It should have been comforting, what with Imara professing to have come to protect them in Malick's place. Instead, it made Morin vaguely uneasy.

As if she knew—and maybe she did—Imara lifted an eyebrow at Morin, tipped him a small, ironic smile, and shrugged. She turned to Joori. “I think, Fen Joori, that perhaps there are matters of which you are unaware.” She paused and turned a mild look over to Jacin, but when Jacin didn't react—still—Imara shifted her glance to everyone else. “Fen Jacin—"

"I'm leaving,” Jacin cut in, then, before anyone could even blink or protest, he spun, threw open the door and walked out. They were all still staring at the door when they heard the one to Jacin's room open then slam shut. The abrupt silence was so thick they heard the lock turn and catch from across the hall.

Joori jolted up, meaning to go after him, no doubt, and this time, Morin couldn't blame him. He'd just been arguing less than an hour ago that if Jacin had wanted to kill himself, he would have found a way, despite any precautions. But things had changed rather drastically since then.

"Be still.” Imara set a hand to Joori's wrist and stopped him. Joori's mouth pulled back in an indignant snarl, but before he could snap out a reply, Imara told him, “Be
still
, Fen Joori. I will see to it."

Shadows swirled around her, and then she was gone.

"I told you, little Ghost."

Jacin watched Asai stroll around the room, inspecting the press and the clutter of belts and small knives strewn over it that Malick had dragged out before and eschewed in favor of the garrote and sword. Asai shook his head, peered into the brass plate bolted to the wall over the press, and smoothed his hair. He turned to Jacin, smiling, soft and condescending.

"This wouldn't have had to happen, if you'd listened to your beishin. When will you learn?"

Jacin had to let the gasp loose, he
had
to—he was already getting lightheaded trying to keep his breathing normal, and everything was spangling at the edges of his vision. Jacin shut his eyes.

"You're not real. You're dead. I killed you myself."

He'd gone completely crazy, that was it. He'd started with voices, and now he'd progressed to hallucinations.

"Yes, and I must say how very disappointed I was in you.” Asai
tutted
. Jacin imagined he was shaking his head in that mock-sorrowful way he had, but refused to open his eyes and look. “You fell under Kamen's spell, little Ghost, that's all. I don't suppose you can be blamed entirely. I should have taught you more about the duplicity of
Temshiel
. But he's out of the way, and we can move on to what's important to us. You still have the ring, yes?"

A touch to Jacin's cheek, long, soft fingers stroking over the bristle on his jaw.

Oh, fuck. It wasn't just a voice inside his head this time—Beishin was real. He was
here
. Touching, when he'd never have touched before.

The others couldn't see him, blithely unaware while Asai whispered in Jacin's ear as they all nattered about what had happened, what was going to happen, what should happen, while Jacin was busy trying not to scream every time Beishin smiled at him or spoke to him in that deep, soothing voice.

Damn it, Jacin was armed, he had knives strapped all over him. Why couldn't he make himself draw one?

"Fen Jacin?"

Jacin jolted, eyes popping open, all unwilling, because if he looked, he'd have to
acknowledge
, and then he'd
know
he'd gone completely off the jump. Damn it, it wasn't fair—if he was going to be driven insane, he should at least get the mercy of oblivion to go with it. No one should have to
know
they were this crazy.

"Fen Jacin?” Imara repeated, all sympathetic topaz eyes and soft tones. Here, standing in front of him, except he hadn't let her in, and maybe she was a hallucination too—how would he be able to tell? “Are you well?” she asked softly.

Jacin could only shake his head and turn his glance to Asai, standing solidly right next to him, his fingertips gliding along the jut of Jacin's cheekbone. Trying very hard not to actually whimper, Jacin looked back at Imara.

"Are you real?” Because he was standing in front of a locked door, and she certainly hadn't come through it, but she was
Temshiel
, so he had no idea if a lock meant a damned thing.

Imara's eyebrow went up. “I am quite real,” she assured him, bemused.

Jacin licked dry lips. “Do you see... anything?"

Because if even a
Temshiel
couldn't see Asai, when she used her magic to
look
, that would mean Asai wasn't real, which would still mean Jacin was crazy, but he thought he could take that more easily than he could take Asai being alive. No one had been able to hear Asai before except Jacin, not even Malick, so if they couldn't see him, that would make some kind of fucked-up sense. But Jacin hadn't actually seen him before, either, Asai hadn't been
real
, not until Malick had—

Oh, fuck.

Malick, what am I supposed to do now, you bastard?

"See what?” Imara asked.

Jacin swallowed and clenched his teeth tight, trying to ignore Asai's too-real touch, but he was
touching
, and it was pretty hard not to notice. “I....” Jacin choked it off—not because he didn't want to ask it, but because his throat was closing up. He couldn't breathe. “I... Asai, he... oh, fuck.” He turned to Asai, raw desperation. “Why can't they
see
you?"