“Tell Lily there is a difference between pain and damage. Damage may heal eventually. Or not. Pain simply is.”
It was an odd message. Dubious but willing, Rule agreed to pass it on and said goodbye. He needed to get back to Lily. He would take her some coffee, he decided. She’d probably fallen asleep again—he hoped so—but if not, she’d appreciate a cup of real coffee.
He got himself a refill, too, and had them put both cups in a bag so he could keep one hand free. He could have asked Randy to carry it, of course, but what use was a bodyguard with his hands full?
He was glad for the free hand a few moments later when he got a call from Stephen Andros, the Etorri Lu Nuncio. And again as he crossed to the building that held Lily’s room, when the Ybirra Lu Nuncio called. He’d just entered the stairwell—he needed to stretch his legs, and a trot up five flights would do that—when Edgar Whitman, Rho of Wythe clan, called.
The calls from the Lu Nuncios hadn’t surprised him. They’d heard about the attack on Lily on the morning news—it had excited the talking heads—and those involved in the upcoming circle wanted to assure Rule they would wait until his Chosen was recovered enough for travel. They also wanted to extend their support. The Rhos of their clans would probably contact Isen to say much the same things their Lu Nuncios said to Rule. A Chosen was Lady-touched, like a Rhej. Like a Rhej, she was treasured by all clans.
But Rule hadn’t expected to hear from a Rho. He was a Rho now himself, yes, but because Lily was Nokolai, he’d expected the other clans to treat with him in this instance according to his status in Nokolai—as heir. In truth, he’d rather talk to the Wythe Lu Nuncio than its Rho. He liked Brian, who laughed easily and was Rule’s closest age-mate among the heirs. Edgar was … difficult.
Edgar expressed the usual wish for Lily’s healing, asked the usual questions. “I’m glad she’s doing well,” he said then. “Wythe stands ready to hunt for any who would harm a Chosen. Give us word if we may assist.”
“Leidolf thanks you. Nokolai appreciates your concern and your offer.”
Edgar snorted. “Not easy, wearing two hats, is it? I won’t keep you on the phone now, when your attention must be divided. But I need to know Nokolai won’t use this as an excuse to delay the heirs’ circle.”
A flick of anger turned Rule’s voice cold. “I am trying not to find insult in your words. Nokolai has worked with Wythe in good conscience to arrange the circle.” In spite of considerable argument and insult, primarily from Wythe and Ybirra.
Less than a year ago, Rule had called another heirs’ circle—for all heirs, not just those from North America—to inform the others in person that she was active in the world again. They had come from all over without any of this prolonged negotiation. The contrast between then and now was sharp and painful.
Edgar snorted. “If I could trust Nokolai’s conscience to prevail over its ambition, we wouldn’t need to meet. Wythe has negotiated in good faith, too.”
Wythe—in the person of its Rho, Edgar—had been a paranoid ass. At first Edgar had denied Rule’s authority to even call an heirs’ circle on the grounds that Rule was now a Rho.
True, Rhos were usually not included in an heirs’ circle; it created imbalance. But Leidolf lacked an heir. Alex might hold the title of Lu Nuncio, but it was empty of its usual meaning. Alex wasn’t of the founder’s bloodline, so couldn’t receive the heir’s portion of the mantle. This was a precarious position for a clan, but hardly unprecedented. And precedent clearly allowed a Rho who lacked an heir to attend an heirs’ circle.
The claim was particularly galling, coming from Wythe. They were in almost as precarious a position as Leidolf. Edgar’s younger brother, Brian, was his Lu Nuncio because Edgar’s only son had been killed in a Challenge three years ago. The only one other than Edgar and his brother who was certain to carry the founder’s blood was Brian’s son, who was barely out of diapers. If anything happened to Brian, Wythe would be in the position Leidolf was until the boy grew up.
Rule said nothing. Silence was preferable to telling Edgar what he really thought. It also encouraged the other person speak to fill it.
“Doubt me, do you, boy?” Edgar demanded. “You shouldn’t. I want the circle to take place, and am willing to alter our arrangements to avoid delay. Your Chosen shouldn’t be dragged to St. Paul now—indeed, she may not be well enough for such a trip for weeks. I am willing to allow the circle to be called in San Diego.”
That was a concession. A large one. Rule answered slowly. “Leidolf does not object. As for Nokolai … I will have to speak with my Rho, of course, but I see no problem. Ybirra may.”
“I’ll contact Manuel. I want to get this done. I think he does, too.”
“Very well. I’ll speak with Etorri and Kyffin.” Kyffin clan was a dominant, but was temporarily subordinate to Nokolai, so obtaining their consent was a courtesy. A necessary courtesy, but still, Jasper couldn’t withhold his Lu Nuncio. As for Etorri, Rule doubted Stephen or his father would object. Etorri supported the call for the All-Clan. “Will you also call Szøs?”
“I will. I’ll be in touch after I’ve spoken with Manuel and Andor. T’eius ven,” Edgar said abruptly.
“T’eius ven, Edgar.”
Rule disconnected, frowning. Edgar was not a subtle man—or didn’t seem so to someone who’d been raised by Isen Turner. But he was a Rho, and had been for over four decades. His actions often served more than one purpose.
What benefit was there to Wythe in meeting quickly? Rule couldn’t find one, yet Edgar was eager enough for the circle to take place that he suggested a meeting place clearly to Wythe’s disadvantage. Was he less suspicious of Nokolai than Rule had thought? Or was that misdirection? What advantage could he be seeking that Rule couldn’t spot?
Ten months ago, Isen Turner had called for an All-Clan. After centuries of absence, their most ancient enemy had begun stirring. The clans needed to meet, to exchange information, to make ready for whatever she planned.
Discussion for the All-Clan had gone well, if slowly. Szøs and Etorri had agreed immediately; two of the European clans had agreed after some haggling. But when Rule became Leidolf Rho, suspicion dragged planning to a halt.
Rule didn’t blame the other clans for wondering what he was up to. In their place he’d have been wary, too. The balance was upset, and he didn’t expect them to react otherwise. Yet the All-Clan had to take place. She might not have moved again since dragging him and Lily to Dis, but sooner or later, she would.
In order to get the All-Clan, Nokolai had to reassure its fellow dominants in North America. To do this, Rule had called for a circle of heirs—in this case, the Lu Nuncios of the dominant clans of North America. Finding a meeting place that didn’t favor one over the others had been difficult. They’d finally agreed on St. Paul. That favored Wythe because it was closest geographically to their territory, but Wythe was the smallest of the U.S. dominants, so was less able to take violent advantage of such proximity.
They were also the most annoying. Wythe and Ybirra were the two clans most opposed to the All-Clan, the two most suspicious of Nokolai. Ybirra had some reason; while on the whole the two clans got along well, Ybirra was Nokolai’s nearest neighbor. Territorial skirmishes were inevitable from time to time, and Ybirra had the most to fear if Nokolai were up to something. Wythe’s intransigence was based more on habit and personality. Edgar simply did not trust Isen and never had.
Now Edgar had contacted Rule directly. That made no sense. Rhos delegated much of the maneuvering to their heirs for a reason. When a Rho negotiated directly, the stakes were higher, the risk of insult greater. And a Rho almost always negotiated with other Rhos. The power was otherwise too uneven. While a Rho could not use his mantle to directly affect those of other clans, all lupi responded to the presence of a mantle. Not all in the same way, but all responded. Rule had once seen his father break up a fight between Kyffin youngsters with a single shouted command.