Sólmundr’s rueful good humour fell away, and Wynter cried out, ‘Oh no, Razi! That is unfair!’
Christopher froze for a moment, clutching the bracelets, his eyes wide with shock.
‘But . . . why?’ he managed eventually.
‘Because they are evidence of a crime. Come on, friend. Show me what you have done, and I shall explain my plan as we walk.’
There was no slinking through the shadows this time. Razi simply strode through the camp as if it was perfectly natural to be wandering about at night, and the others trailed along behind him like uncertain ducklings. They met a patrol on the road and Razi sighed with lordly impatience as the sergeant eyed the strange little entourage and explained that he would need to report them to the Prince.
‘You do just that, sergeant, and I commend you for your diligence. Now I bid you go about your duty and leave me go about mine.’
The sergeant hesitated, and Razi leaned in. ‘I should like you to give his Highness a message,’ he said. ‘You must repeat it exactly as I say, understand?’ The sergeant nodded. ‘Tell him that I am simply taking advance payment for damages due, and his immediate business will not be disrupted. Please repeat that for me . . . Good. Now go ahead. I am certain the Prince will be most content with your attention to duty.’
The soldiers left them.
Amazed, Sólmundr watched them go. Then he turned to look Razi up and down. ‘I think I take you home with me, Tabiyb,’ he mused. ‘You very impressive man.’
There was not a trace of humour in the warrior’s expression, and Wynter had to grin at the discomfort this brought to Razi’s dark face. ‘Um,’ he said. ‘Um . . . right.’ With a nervous cough, he led the way into the shadows again.
Sólmundr winked at her. ‘Sometimes it too easy,’ he said, and led the way after their retreating friend.
The Wolves slept on. Razi ignored them, but he helped Sólmundr and Christopher drag the slaves out into the moonlight and propped them up against furs taken from the Wolves’ tent. Wynter crouched by his side, gazing anxiously at them. It was difficult to tell in this strange light, but their colour seemed odd, their breathing fast and shallow.
‘Will they die, Razi?’
‘These are sevenths?’ he asked, glancing up at Christopher, his fingers pressed to a slave’s neck. Christopher nodded grimly. ‘So,’ murmured Razi, reaching to feel the other slave’s pulse. ‘They are the sons of Wolves? Sired by them on one of their slaving raids and then kept as their own?’
‘They ain’t Wolves, though,’ said Christopher. Razi met his eye. ‘I’m certain of it,’ said Christopher. ‘For all that André has them convinced they could change if they want it badly enough, that just ain’t the way it goes. It’s like having red hair or blue eyes. You’re either born a Wolf or you ain’t. There’s naught you can do about it.’
He made this last statement very quietly, glancing at Wynter. She smiled reassuringly at him. It made no difference to her. Christopher was a good person, that was all; a good person who happened to be a Wolf.
‘Still,’ said Razi, ‘they have Loup-Garou blood in them. They might be slightly different, perhaps, to normal men? There might be some physical differences that would make them more tolerant to the poison?’
Christopher shrugged, his eyes cold. He genuinely did not care.
Razi sighed. ‘In any case, there is nothing I can do for them; I have never heard of the plants Sólmundr has detailed, and I shall not risk a treatment when I do not know the tincture involved. They will live or die as the fates would have it.’ He stood and wiped his hands. ‘Would you like me to place the bracelets back on their arms?’ he asked gently.
Christopher shook his head. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘You are certain of this plan?’ rasped Sólmundr.
Razi nodded. ‘Even if I cannot secure the testimony of the landlord’s older daughter, Christopher and Wynter can testify that it was the Loups-Garous who killed that poor child at the Wherry Tavern. I shall see these cur tried in court, Sólmundr, using my father’s new rule of law. I shall make an example of them that none will forget. My brother will build them up and their fall will be all the harder for it, and all the more public.’ He looked at Christopher. ‘But you