Lupi 09 - Mortal Ties

touch each of them briefly, and he
knew
them. Knew them personally, yes, and of course the mantle recognized them. But for
     the first time, his knowledge and the mantle’s recognition blended into a seamless
     whole.
    He knew them, and they were his. “Leidolf,” he said, his voice raised enough for Nokolai
     and the other clans to hear. “You will answer truly and fully now. If I have given
     you orders on some previous occasion which might cause you to withhold information
     or mislead or lie, you will disregard those orders. Do any of you have personal knowledge
     of this theft or of this thief?”
    Some shook their heads. Some said no. A few did both.
    “Have any of you spoken to someone not present tonight about Cullen Seabourne’s workshop?”
    Most of them spoke their
no
aloud this time, firmly. So that Nokolai would hear. One didn’t respond. Rule’s heart
     gave a single hard thud in his chest. He controlled it quickly. “Scott. You didn’t
     answer.”
    “I wasn’t sure how to answer. LeBron and I talked about it some. He’s not here.”
    This time the relief was real and vivid. Rule turned to look at Isen. “LeBron died
     saving my
nadia
’s life. I can’t call on him to testify for himself, so I will speak for him. He did
     not betray Leidolf or our alliance with Nokolai. I so pledge on the honor of Leidolf.”
    Isen didn’t react. Others did. Breaths sucked in, feet or bodies stirred. Rule could
     have made the pledge on his own honor. That he’d backed it by Leidolf’s meant it could
     only be disputed if Isen were willing to call Clan Challenge.
    It was probably overkill. Rule didn’t care. LeBron’s name would be honored, not smudged
     by doubts.
    Isen nodded again, a fraction more deeply—acknowledging a favor. “Nokolai accepts
     Leidolf’s pledge and thanks you for your help. Does the Leidolf Rho have further comment
     or questions at this time?”
    “Leidolf has no more to contribute at this time. We are on your land. We acknowledge
     your rights and responsibilities in this matter.”
    “Then I would speak with my Lu Nuncio.”
    Rule had switched roles with his father many times now, going from Lu Nuncio to Rho
     and back. It had sometimes been tricky in the way that a puzzle can be, but never
     truly difficult.
    Tonight it was.
    The Nokolai Rho wished to take him out, use him, then stuff him back into the lesser
     role when it suited him? And do so publicly, demonstrating to all that Leidolf answered
     Nokolai’s bidding. That was…Rule drew a slow breath. That was entirely proper. When
     Rule first was thrust into the leadership of Leidolf, his Rho had spoken to him about
     the problems inherent in being Rho to one clan and Lu Nuncio to another. He had agreed
     that here at Clanhome he would be Lu Nuncio to Nokolai, not Rho to Leidolf. Tonight
     Isen had agreed to his assumption of the other role so he could clear Leidolf of complicity,
     but that did not abrogate their original agreement.
    Isen had noted his hesitation. No doubt of that. Others might have as well. “I have
     thought of one thing Leidolf might do to assist. I would send my men to guard Toby,
     releasing more of your men to assist in other ways.”
    “I accept your offer.”
    Rule turned and gave quick instructions to his men. As they melted away into the crowd,
     he faced Isen again. This time he dipped his head low, baring his nape. “My Rho wishes
     to speak with me?”
    Isen’s face held no emotion. “Change.”

TEN

    R ULE’S heart gave a single, frightened leap, but he obeyed.
    The moon was new and hidden now behind the curve of the earth. It didn’t matter, not
     for Rule. Her song was as much a part of him as his pulse. He didn’t rush, not wanting
     to pull others into the Change with him. He
listened
and opened himself to moonsong, distant and muted and impossibly pure, and it slid
     through him like falling water. The earth answered easily, shooting up through him,
     and the two met and ripped the world apart, starting with his body.
    The pain was instant and intolerable—and over, the memory of it lingering faintly
     like an afterimage of the sun imprinted on the retina. Then that, too, was gone. He
     stood on four feet in a world vastly different from what he experienced on two, his
     vision both expanded and contracted. Expanded, because wolves have a full 180 degrees
     of vision, compared to a human’s 100 degrees. Contracted, because wolves are myopic—unless
     something