“Good afternoon to you,” the man called.
Curly brown hair, handsome face, lean body. Not much of a fighter, since he was approaching a stranger with his hands in his trouser pockets as if he were taking a simple stroll in his home village. But the stew of power Ranon was sensing from that group couldn’t be dismissed, and there was something in the man’s blue eyes that said this Warlord knew how to stop trouble—and how to make trouble.
“Good afternoon,” Ranon replied.
*They’re here!* Vae bounced and danced, but the men ignored her.
“Would you be Gray?” the man asked.
“I’m Ranon, First Circle in Lady Cassidy’s court and the Master’s second-in-command.”
“Ah. Well, since you were the second man I was asked to see, I think you’ll do as well for both.”
Both what?
“I’m Khardeen, Warlord of Maghre. And this is Lord Ladvarian.” Khardeen held out a hand.
Ranon clasped the hand—and felt a quiver of fear when he saw the Sapphire ring on Khardeen’s right hand. This man could rip through his Opal shields and tear him apart with a single thought.
Then he glanced down and got another shock. The dog staring up at him wore a gold chain around its neck. A Red Jewel shone against the white ruff.
The human wasn’t the most dangerous Warlord to walk into their village.
Ladvarian looked at Vae.
*Ranon? Ladvarian wants to see the yard.*
“Uh . . . sure.” Since she’d been bouncing a minute before, he was uneasy about Vae sounding so subdued—and cautious.
Khardeen took a step to the side as Vae came around to position herself on Ladvarian’s left—the subordinate position. That done, fourteen Scelties trotted off and disappeared behind the Queen’s Residence.
“They aren’t going to dig, are they?” Ranon asked. “Gray will have a fit if they start digging in the gardens he’s been restoring back there. So will Cassidy.”
“No, they’ll be all right,” Khardeen replied. “Ladvarian was First Circle in the Dark Court. He knows about not digging in a Queen’s garden. Of course, some of the youngsters will need to have it explained to them more than once, but they’ll understand it sooner or later.”
Khardeen’s blue eyes twinkled. Ranon’s stomach sank in response.
“I gather Vae didn’t tell you about this?” Khardeen asked.
“About what?”
“Ah. Well, having been here long enough to assess the situation, Vae didn’t think she could take care of all the humans who needed a Sceltie’s help.”
“Really?” Mother Night.
“She talked to Ladvarian about helping her find other Scelties to take care of the other humans while she took care of the court. Then those two talked to Morghann and Jaenelle, and there you are—twelve youngsters who wanted the challenge of taking care of humans who have no kindred of their own.”
No. Oooh, no. “Who’s Morghann?” He’d heard the name before, somewhere, but it was the only question Ranon could think to ask. The only safe question, anyway.
“Morghann is the Queen of Scelt.”
Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. Now he remembered. Cassie had mentioned Morghann when she was explaining court living arrangements in Kaeleer. And she’d mentioned Morghann’s husband, Khardeen.
The Queen of Scelt and the former Queen of Ebon Askavi had hand-picked these dogs to live here? How was he going to convince Khardeen to take them back? No matter what Vae thought, she was all the humans could handle.
“What are they supposed to do?” Ranon asked.
“Oh, they’ll figure that out,” Khardeen said with a breeziness that was a bit terrifying. “They’re good at herding, and they’ll herd anything—sheep, ducks, goats, cows, children . . . stubborn males.”
“Can you take them back?”
“I can,” Khardeen said. “But you’ll be the one who will have to explain it to the Ladies, and any man who knows either of those Queens isn’t going to get within a mile of you while you do it.”
Shit.
A wave of fur came around the Residence and spread out, tails wagging while they busily sniffed their surroundings.
Then one of the Scelties raced up to him and began dancing on its hind legs.
*My human! This is my human!*
It was the homeliest little dog Ranon had ever seen. He—because Ranon had picked up the caste of Warlord—had the Sceltie face and the Sceltie body, but the fur looked like it had been taken from the leftovers of a dozen different dogs and patched together any which way. There was white, tan, brown, black, and three shades of gray. Hodgepodge dog.
*I will take good care of him. I am going to live with him!*
“No, you’re not.” The words were honest and out before Ranon thought about it.
The dog stared at him for a moment, those brown eyes full of heart-breaking woe. Then the whimpering started, turning to whines and keening and . . .
*My human doesn’t want me!*
Ranon glanced at Khardeen. There was still some amusement and sympathy in those blue eyes, but underneath was the bite of anger.
*Can’t you do something*? Ranon asked Khardeen.
*I’m not the one who hurt his feelings.*
That anger made him uneasy, although Khardeen made no overt threat. Then he discovered he had a lot more reasons to worry.
He hadn’t seen them, hadn’t sensed them coming toward him. One moment he had one whining Sceltie sitting in front of him; the next he was surrounded—and the thirteen pairs of brown eyes staring at him held more than a bite of anger.
*Of course he wants you,* Vae said. *But he is male and human, and sometimes he gets confused. Don’t you?*
Ranon glanced at Khardeen.
*There is only one correct answer,* Khardeen said. *So take the kick in the balls, apologize to your little brother, and assure him that he can live with you.*
*Is there any other choice?*
*Not if you want to stay healthy. Darkmist is a year older than his little brother and isn’t someone you want to tangle with,* Khardeen said.
Darkmist? Ranon scanned the Sceltie faces. The dogs were a variety of colors, but there were three that might fit the name—if the name was meant to fit. Two were a silver-gray and white, and the third . . .
Pewter and white with black speckles on the face. And an Opal Jewel.
Warlord Prince. Ranon stared at the dog who matched him, caste and rank. Then he swallowed hard and went down on one knee, aware he was putting his throat a lot closer to all those sets of teeth.
“What’s your name?” he asked, tentatively extending a hand to the homely little dog.
Woeful brown eyes looked at him, but the tip of the tail gave a hopeful little wag. *Khollie.*
“Well, Khollie, Vae is right. I am confused. I’ve never seen so many Scelties, and I guess I didn’t realize . .
.” What? Then inspiration struck, and with a silent apology to his beloved, he added, “You can help me take care of my mate.”
More tail wagging. Woeful began to lighten to happy as Khollie slipped his head under Ranon’s hand for a pat.
*You have a mate? I will help you!*
Suddenly his arms were full of chin-licking, tail-wagging dog—and he really hoped Shira was going to forgive him for siccing a Sceltie on her.
“Vae, why don’t you show Ladvarian and Khollie where Khollie will be staying,” Khardeen said. The mild tone didn’t make the words any less of a command.
Crisis over, the Scelties scattered to continue their sniffing exploration of the cottages and vegetation near the Queen’s Residence, leaving the two humans alone.
Khardeen said nothing, giving Ranon time to regain some balance and think.
“It won’t be that bad,” Khardeen finally said. “A month from now, you won’t remember what it was like to live in a village without Scelties.”
What a terrifying thought. But it was remembering the look in Darkmist’s eyes and the feel of the dog that had Ranon watching the way they moved, spreading out from the Residence. Too orderly. More like a troop of warriors spreading out to get the most information about a place in the least amount of time.
Which made him wonder about the twelve dogs that were going to be living among his people—and made him remember a comment that almost passed by his notice.
“You said Ladvarian was First Circle in the Dark Court?”
“Yes,” Khardeen replied. “He was one of Lady Angelline’s escorts.”
Ranon looked Khardeen in the eyes. “He was trained to fight?”
“By Lucivar Yaslana, the Demon Prince, and the High Lord, among others,” Khardeen said softly. “In turn, Ladvarian trained each of the youngsters who have come here. Don’t underestimate Darkmist, Ranon. A Warlord Prince is a Warlord Prince, whether he stands on two legs or four, and Mist has received the best education when it comes to knowing what to do in a fight.”
Mother Night.
“And they’re all going to live . . . ?” Ranon looked at the Queen’s Residence.
“Oh, they’ll work that out. I suspect most of them will come back here for the first few days. Then they’ll find their own place in the village—as well as their special humans.”
Thank the Darkness.
He was not a coward. He knew that about himself. But the thought of living in the same house with more than two Scelties made his knees weak.
“About Khollie,” Khardeen said. “Do you have any brothers?”
“One. Younger by ten years.” Could he extend Khollie’s “help” to Janos as well?
“Do you remember what it’s like to talk to a four-year-old boy?”
Ranon nodded.
“Then you should have no trouble.” Khardeen gave him a sharp smile. “Just think of Khollie as a bright four-year-old boy, and you’re the older brother who needs to explain things to him so that his behavior doesn’t cause trouble for him or the people around him.”
Great. Just what he needed when there was already so much to do—a furry baby brother.
Khardeen called in a large metal trunk that immediately began to sweat in the heat, along with a large metal canister. “Here’s a cold box of meat for them. And that’s the oatmeal that is made into a gruel as part of their feed a couple of times a week.”
“Vae doesn’t eat that,” Ranon said. Although, now that he thought about it, some mornings the porridge bowls left on the table looked a little too clean. Like someone had licked them clean.
“Well,” Khardeen said, looking toward the house. “It’s time we were heading back. I’m expected for dinner at the Keep.”
Ladvarian, Vae, and Khollie came trotting out of the Residence—using Craft to pass through the door, Ranon noted. Which meant he wouldn’t need to get up in the middle of the night if the dog wanted to pee.
Ladvarian gave the two youngsters a lick on their muzzles. Khardeen tipped his head, said good-bye, and the two Warlords headed back up the street to the landing web.
Then Khardeen stopped and turned to face Ranon.
*There was that second thing to tell you,* he said. *Lady Cassidy’s report will go to the Keep three days from now?*
*Yes.*
*You’re to be the messenger.*
*Why?*
*Because the Queen wants to see you.*
No doubt about which Queen was commanding his presence. No doubt at all. And no question that he would obey that command.
*I’ll be there.* And may the Darkness have mercy on me.
He watched them until they were out of sight. Then he felt a flash of frustration and temper. He looked to his right and saw one of the Scelties—a witch by what he could sense—staring at empty air, gently wagging her tail.
A moment later, Archerr dropped the sight shield that should have kept him hidden and strode over to Ranon, quickly followed by Shaddo, who was trailed by his two boys.
“Hell’s fire,” Archerr said as the witch trotted away and a Warlord headed toward them. “What good is a sight shield if a dog is going to smell you and let everyone know you’re there?”
“Not much,” Ranon said. But damn useful if an enemy was trying to sight shield to get close enough to attack. With two Scelties living at the Residence, they were less likely to have any unwelcome company showing up to bother Cassidy.
*Boy puppies!* The black-and-white Warlord with a splash of white on his muzzle and tan markings on his face raced toward Shaddo’s boys.
Shaddo swore mildly but didn’t interfere with the meeting. Then he swore with more heat when his wife Soli stepped out of their cottage.
“Shaddo? What’s going on? Is it all right for the boys to be out?”
The Sceltie turned toward the sound of her voice and froze. Dog and woman stared at each other.
Soli smiled. “Aren’t you the sweetest boy?”
The human boys were abandoned in a heartbeat. The Sceltie launched himself into the air and ended up sitting in front of Soli, with one paw raised to shake—floating on air waist high.
“Hello, there,” Soli said, holding the paw while she petted and cooed. “What’s your name? Where did you come from?” She frowned a little. “You’re Darcy from the Isle of Scelt?” She looked up at Shaddo, her eyes full of wonder. “He talks?”
*I talk,* Darcy said proudly. *But only to my special humans.*
“Hell’s fire, Shaddo,” Archerr said, choking back a laugh. “That sure looks like love at first sight to me. I think you just adopted a furry boy-child.”
“Who is not going to be sleeping in our bed,” Shaddo growled. But there was resigned humor in his eyes as he watched Soli introduce the dog to the boys. “He’ll keep her company, so yeah, looks like I’ve got another boy.”
“Who is already trained to fight,” Ranon said quietly.
The humor drained out of the other two men.
He nodded in response to the unspoken question. “It’s one step removed, but some of that training is courtesy of Lucivar Yaslana—and one of the Scelties is an Opal-Jeweled Warlord Prince.”
“Mother Night,” Archerr said softly.
“Once Talon rises, we all need to talk about this. For now, you two pass along the all clear, especially to Gray so he knows it’s safe for Cassidy to come back to the Residence. I’ll try to explain this to the village elders.”
Shaddo said, “Who would send us a pack of warriors?”
Ranon felt a knot of tension ease as he answered the question. “The same person who understood why we needed Cassidy.”