"She shared the munin with two of us," Jamil said.
"By accident, I take it," the woman said. She sounded faintly amused.
I was not amused. I got to my feet, a little unsteady, but standing. "Who are you?"
"My name is Marianne. I am the vargamor for this clan."
I remembered Verne and Colin talking about a varga-something last night. "Verne mentioned you last night. Colin said he'd left you at home to keep you safe."
"A good witch is hard to find," she said, smiling.
I looked at her. "You don't feel Wiccan."
Again, I knew she smiled at me. Her peaceful condescension grated on my nerves. "A psychic then, if you prefer the term."
"I'd never heard the term vargamor before last night," I said.
"It's rare," she said. "Most packs don't have one anymore. Considered too old-fashioned."
"You aren't lukoi," I said.
Her head cocked to one side, and the smile was gone, as if I'd finally done something worthwhile. "Are you so sure?"
I tried to get a sense of what had made me so sure she was human, or at least not lukoi. She had her own energy. She was psychic enough for me to notice. We'd have recognized each other without any introductions. We might not have known the exact flavor of each other's abilities, but we'd have recognized a kindred or rival spirit. Whatever power moved her, it wasn't lycanthropy.
"Yeah, I'm sure you're not lukoi," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
"You don't taste like a shapeshifter."
She laughed then, and it was a rich, musical sound that managed to be wholesome and earthy all at the same time. "I like your choice of senses. Most humans would have said I didn't feel right. Feel is such an imprecise word, don't you think?"
I shrugged. "Maybe."
"This is Roland. He is my bodyguard for this night. We poor humans must be watched over for fear that some overzealous shapeshifter might lose control and harm us."
"Somehow I don't think you are that easy a prey, Marianne."
She laughed again. "Why, thank you, child."
Her calling me child made me add about ten years to her age. She didn't look it. It was dark, but she still didn't look it.
"Come, Anita. We will escort you to the lupanar." She held out her hand to me like I was supposed to take it and be led like a child.
I looked to Jamil. I hoped somebody knew what was going on, because I was lost.
"It's all right, Anita. The vargamor is neutral. She never fights or takes sides in challenges. That's how she can be human and run with the pack."
"Are we involved in a challenge or a fight that I don't know about?" I asked.
"No," Jamil said, but he sounded uncertain.
Marianne interpreted for me without being asked. "Introducing two outside dominants to a pack can lead to fighting. Having someone as powerful as Richard is raising the hackles on our younger wolves. Having him sleeping with our pack's only two dominant females makes it worse."
"You mean we may get into a pissing contest," I said.
"A colorful phrase, but accurate enough," she said.