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“Keep your eyes down, your cap pulled low, and for fuck’s sake, don’t make eye contact.”
Sylvan hissed the instructions as we joined the long line of servants making their way into Leifgart proper. His mother had offered us tea again in the morning and some food, but going by her gaunt cheeks, I wasn’t entirely sure she had sufficient goods to share. It wouldn’t have mattered, since my guts felt like I’d swallowed live eels whole, something twisting and squirming within them as we shuffled forward.
“We are meant for the kitchen. Don’t let them send you—”
“Anywhere else but there. And the password is ‘leaping wolf.’ We know, Sylvan. We’ve got it down,” Aaron said.
“The plan’s much more likely to work if you started looking a lot less squirrelly,” Jack drawled.
Sylvan shot him a dark look, but it didn’t change the fact we all saw how pale he looked. That was…reassuring. We didn’t get to say much more as the first Volken I’d seen in the flesh marched over to our group.
I watched the leather clad man through the corner of my eye as he came over, saw the way the armour had been tailored to fit his body well, a bow in a quiver strapped to his back. Like the boys of Sanctuary, he had the same supremely muscular frame and high cheekbones, but his mane of hair was tied back into a neat queue.
“Password?” he said.
“Leaping wolf, sir,” Finn said.
“Excellent,” the man said, his hands held behind his back as he eyed the lot of us. “The six of you men will come with me. We need extras setting up tables for the Great Rite, and you look up to the task.”
“But, sir.” The words were out of Sylvan’s mouth before he’d thought about it, and I saw him blanch even paler as the Volken’s attention transferred to him.
“Yes?”
Imperious grey eyes burned into the side of Sylvan’s face as he waited for an answer, his feet tapping on the stone flagstones. The servants that were clustered around us started to pull away, instinctively wanting to put distance between them and the target of the Volken’s ire.
“Sir, we’re due to help out Adam in the kitchens, for the banquet.”
We all heard the waver in Sylvan’s voice, saw his fists ball, the knuckles white from the effort. The Volken nodded, as if this was only appropriate.
“The kitchen, hmm?” The man looked curiously patient, which of course made you aware of what was being held back. “Well, far be it for me to get in the way of…who was it again? Adam? Adam’s plans must take precedence.”
Yep, we’d fucked up.
People stopped edging away and quite openly struggled to get clear of us. The reddish tinged crystals studding the man’s gauntlet began to glow brighter and brighter. I watched in horror as his hand closed into a fist, as some kind of horrible facsimile of the power we’d wielded with the Great Wolf’s help appeared to be activated.
“Tell me again what you must do, other than what I tell you?”
Evidently the question was rhetorical. Sylvan got no such words out as his face transformed into a mask of pain. He collapsed to the ground curling in on himself, obviously not wanting the Volken to see him, but we helplessly stood by as Sylvan’s body twitched and spasmed in pain so intensely, he couldn’t even cry out.
“Now,” the Volken said in an eminently reasonable tone. “Tell me what you must do today.”
Holy fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck. We’d no such power in the brief vision we’d gotten before leaving, and when my eyes darted to Aaron, his face was white and drawn as he considered what we were now up against. We scanned the other Volken from the sides of our eyes, some milling around or assigning jobs to servants. Those crystals seemed to be everywhere—on uniforms, on primitive guns and long batons. Mine hummed in my pocket, so I closed my fingers around it to mute its glare.
“Begging your pardon, sir.”
Everyone’s eyes whipped around to see a man had come forward. His hat was in his hands and was being fairly mangled as he edged towards us, but came he did. He was an older man, his hair thinning on top, his white shirt no longer so white.
“Yes.” The word was bitten out.
“These men and the woman, Adam has asked especially for them. Y’see, he’s got those big alathas on the spit today, and he needs the extra bodies to turn—”
“Spare me the details,” the Volken snapped. His eyes scanned the crowd for a moment, then he sighed. “Fine, take them. But you tell Adam he will need to have all personnel requests approved through the correct channels next time, or I won't be held accountable for my actions, understood?”
“Of course, sir. Many apologies, sir,” the balding man said.
“And make sure I get slices from the haunches during the banquet,” the Volken said. “I’m sick of being left with stringy pieces from the forelegs.”
“Of course, sir.” The man bobbed his head. “I’ll see to it personally.”
