Foxhunt Page 19

  The Wolf nodded shortly.

  There seemed nothing to do except fly down, but Orfeus shook her head back at him, harsh and fast. She came down to land on the outskirts of the town. Far from her house, far from the dining house where she’d last seen Primrose. She barely felt a pang at that, or told herself she didn’t.

  Orfeus swung off the bike before it had even touched dirt, tugging it to the ground absentmindedly as she glared up at Faol. He circled and landed, sending up dust. “What?” he said once the engine noise had died down.

  “Tinctora?” Orfeus said, and crossed her arms.

  “Yes.”

  “This is some damn test, isn’t it?” Orfeus spat. She leaned back against her saddle to glare at him. “Some ridiculous measure of my worth or readiness, by you or by Luga. By Luga,” she added, after having thought about it for the barest extra second. “You don’t do anything you’re not told to. This is a bad idea, Faolan.”

  Faol paused. Orfeus wasn’t sure what she’d said that actually got through to her, but something must have. “It’s just prey,” Faol said, giving her a heavy judgmental look from under her helm.

  Orfeus shook her head. “It’s a bad idea,” she said. “Even just on the surface of it. Any sensible leader would avoid sending in a hunter with mixed allegiances, and just send in someone who hadn’t lived here—oh, don’t bridle like that, pup, I’m not actually calling your leader stupid. I’m saying it’s clearly a test! It’s just a bad one.” She groaned. “He was strange last time we talked, in the mess hall. Eager for me to be blooded.”

  “He was eating?” Faolan said, with a small smile. “He doesn’t eat enough.” Then he glanced at her sharply, the soft expression stiffening into tension. “He is a strong Leader.”

  Not the part of that she’d expected him to react to, but alright. “I know, Faol, I know,” Orfeus said. “It’s still a bad test.”

  Faol got slowly off his bike. “Hunters of the Order of the Wild have no allegiances,” he said. He sounded like he was reciting it by rote. Maybe he was. If what O’Hallow had sent Orfeus was true, he could have been in the Order since he was a child, fed Wild propaganda like it was pap or oatmeal. His accent was hard to place, like he was from everywhere and nowhere, but it had a faint Cymry burr, like Luga. “No hometown. No origin. There is only the hunt.”

  Orfeus shook her head, irritably. “And he wants me to prove it,” she said. She drew out her knife, slashed it blue-lit through the air, then sheathed it again irritably. “If I were him, I wouldn’t have forced this for another few months. I take it back. I am calling him stupid.”

  Dangerous, and she knew it. But Faol didn’t stride across the space between them or send his claws whishing out. “If you don’t think you can do it, I can do this one for you,” he said tiredly. But he said it, and didn’t deny this was a test. Maybe every damn thing was.

  She hadn’t made him pull her weight since that first time. Hadn’t killed, either, not yet, Luga hadn’t forced that or maybe the Order truly didn’t get hunt-to-kill jobs that often. But she had watched Faol’s back as he killed, she had subdued people and knocked them out and taken hits and she’d proven herself a hundred ways, she had. She’d worked damn hard to progress this far, and she wasn’t going to hide in the Wolf’s shadow. That wasn’t any better than hiding from it.

  Orfeus was not going to give Faol any more reasons to detest her.

  She pulled branches over her bike and shook out her cloak irritably, pulling the hood up. Maybe she could go unrecognised just for a while. Just a little while. Long enough to get in and out and leave her home forever, again.

  Faolan kitted up as well without saying any more, and walked forward. He was never the most communicative. But he had offered. He at least didn’t let his personal feelings – hatred, contempt—interfere with being an effective ally, and grudgingly she admired that.

  Orfeus strode to his side, drew her knife again, flipped the handle and caught it. She told her, “The reason I don’t like this test is because I know I’ll pass.”

  Faolan cocked her head. Didn’t look at her. Was certainly listening. “You never make sense,” she said, and she sounded almost despairing. The note of exasperation was familiar, one Orfeus was really more used to hearing from friends.

  “Complex situations require complex reactions,” Orfeus said. The landscape was painfully familiar. She gathered moss from these trees sometimes. There was a good pear tree half a mile from here, though it hadn’t fruited as well in a few years.

  Faol shook her head, looking at her sidelong. Orfeus wondered whether that was almost a hint of a smile. Another thing Orfeus was more used to in friends, and certainly not in Faolan. “It’s the simplest thing in the world,” Faol said. “It’s prey. It’s the hunt.”

  Orfeus sighed a little, and focused ahead. That was a bad idea: she could see the familiar skyline ahead, each roof known to her. She frowned at the ground. “I wish I had your simplicity of belief at times.”

  She looked up to see Faol staring at her from beneath the wolf’s head. “You…do?”

  Orfeus shook her head. “You do all the worst things, but you do them for good reasons,” she said. “I don’t agree with your beliefs, but at least you have them. I never do anything good except by chance.”

  “You helped Ocelot,” Faol said. He moved through the woods nearly as familiarly as she. Of course, Orfeus thought sourly. He’d been here twice already. “Was that for your advantage?”

  That gave her pause, and she stayed silent until they were up to the edge of town, passing the first buildings. Not many people were out and about, a few wanderers who glanced at them and then quickly away. The answer wasn’t hard, she just didn’t know if Faol would believe her. “No,” Orfeus said. “Not in the moment.”

  Faolan looked at her. “Then you’re a liar.”

  It had almost felt like a peace offering, which was the only reason his jibe caught her off guard, surely. “Thanks,” she bit off.

  Faol shrugged. They walked through town, down these streets she knew. Anyone who saw them walked faster or hurried inside. Curtains twitched back over windows as they passed.

  Orfeus seethed in silence for as long as she could bear to before she said curtly, professionally, “Can I know the target at least?”

  Faolan strode forward easy and quick, unmindful of the looks he got from the few townsfolk around. “Maybe…not until we’re there.”

  Orfeus snorted through her nose. Faol didn’t trust her; good. “Oh, there’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “I’m sure there won’t be that many people who’ll cause a conflict of interest here. I only know most of the people in town.”

  Faol walked ahead a metre or two forward before saying, grim and low and in half a mumble, “I’ll at least say it’s not Primrose.”

  Orfeus laughed a little, painfully. “You know, I’ve wondered if it was her?”

  Faol’s look was a little blank. “Her what?”

  Orfeus waved her hand a little in the space between them, because she already knew he wouldn’t give any more information on whoever had gotten the hit on her, if he even knew. “Someone put that contract on me, the first one,” she said. “It could be Primrose.”

  “Your lover,” Faol said, with a look of disbelief. He shook his head. “You trust no one!”

  She winked at him. “That’s the way to survive.”

  It wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t. She’d have to choose someone to trust eventually, but certainly not the Wolf, striding through her town like the spectre of death again. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted to prevent? And all she’d achieved was stalking beside him with a knife in her hand, playing at being a monster.

  She hoped she was playing.

  The Hub didn’t look too damaged from the explosion. That was more of a relief than Orfeus would admit to herself. As long as the Hub was receiving and transmitting, any urgent needs Tinctora couldn’t take care of on its own could be provided to them. Medical supplies or
building supplies, to supplement the stores that surely hadn’t been enough to rebuild all that had burned down. With the Hub working, no one would’ve been in too much danger.

  In that moment, she hated herself more than she had for weeks. No one would have been in too much danger? Oh, no one had died, and even if they had, surely it was fine as long as it wasn’t any of the people she cared about.

  They passed through the centre of town. Many establishments seemed to have suffered from the explosion, reconstruction partly underway on some, others just scorched and damaged. Orfeus hoped the reason they weren’t being rebuilt was because the damage was cosmetic, not because there were no resources.

  The once-wrecked planter boxes in the square were now dense with scrambling plants, familiar dark green leaves. Willowherb. She turned her face away from it.

  Faol led her back into the suburbs, all spreading, all gardens. Flowers were in bloom. Orfeus’s stomach felt small and hard, like a stone she’d forgotten to rake away.

  “Our prey is a carpenter,” Faol said, speaking quietly. “We shouldn’t need reasons to do our job…” He eyed her sternly, as though trying to fix this in her mind. Orfeus nodded as if she was obedient. Faol continued, “Someone got word he was taking from live trees, cutting them down. Planting none. Stealing other people’s stock, too. So here we are.” He gave the tiniest, most laconic gesture, a flaring of fingers at the scene around them, barely a twitch of his hand. From Faol, who seldom made any gestures at all, it felt expressive. Almost apologetic, like he knew this was hard.

  What did it matter if he knew or not, it was still hard, she still had to be here.

  The stone that was her heart twisted and rolled in her chest. Shifting uneasily even before they got there, and Faol came to a stop outside her house.

  No: outside Linden’s house.

  Like standing on rocks in the riverbed, the footing tricky, ready to send her tripping into the rapids. “No,” Orfeus said. From how Faol looked at her, she knew she was on dangerous ground, and she shook her head not caring. “I know this man. We were neighbours. He wouldn’t do that, the things you said.” Linden was always careful, only used found wood and felled wood. “I know him! Something’s wrong.”

  Faolan examined the house, eyes scanning over the windows, the entrances. The woodworking room had no light on. “Is it?” he said. “Or do you just want to avoid a kill?”

  Orfeus looked away.

  “Fox, you must choose eventually,” Faolan said, and stepped forward in front of her. His shoulders were bunched together in tension. Bizarre for someone so experienced to be so tense when their prey was only a lowly carpenter.

  Linden was a mathematician more than he was a carpenter, really, carpentry was just what he was passionate about. He’d never been any good. Orfeus followed, slow. The stone twisted and gave way. Just muck, underneath, just rotten things.

  He had always helped when she needed it.

  Orfeus came to a stop on the path. Faolan didn’t glance back and didn’t stop when she stopped. He just tried the door, then kicked it open. Orfeus let out a breath. If Linden was out, out at the swap-market, that…didn’t mean anything. Faol would just wait. Faol was good at waiting.

  There was a plaintive, awful sound, almost a howling. A grey shape rushed at her. Orfeus took a step back, bracing herself, and blinked when it rubbed against her ankles, turned its head up to her and let out another plaintive, stretched-out miaow.

  “Splodge,” Orfeus said blankly. Second instinct kicked into place before conscious thought could, and she bent down, patting at the cat. Splodge had never been that affectionate, but it certainly was now, nearly flinging itself against her legs, pushing hard, all the while uttering those miserable cries: miaow, miaow, miaaaooow. “Hey, there, honey. Shhhh, you’re alright.” She rubbed the cat’s cheeks and it shoved its face against her hand.

  Orfeus patted it, making soothing nonsense noises. She narrowed her eyes at the cat. The short grey fur was sleek and clean, but there was a scratch over Splodge’s nose, next to the stripe, that hadn’t healed yet. Even more noticeable, Splodge was thin. Nowhere near starving, but undoubtedly thin; she could feel its ribs when it pressed against her. Linden took better care of his cat than this.

  Something was wrong, something more than just this whole impossible situation. Faolan at last came out of the house, and said without looking at her, pointedly not looking at her in a way that spoke as loud as any accusation, “No one’s here.”

  Orfeus straightened slowly. Splodge hissed in complaint.

  Linden wasn’t smart enough to vacate before a hunter came. Not when Orfeus herself hadn’t, and Linden had about as many survival skills as his tape measure. Orfeus held her hand down for Splodge. Faolan was still glaring at her.

  “Alright?” Orfeus said slowly. “I’m…very sorry for your disappointment?”

  Faol narrowed his eyes.

  “You think I warned him?” Orfeus said. Splodge shifted back a little at her tone. She forced her voice to drop, calm and collected and friendly. “When do you think I would have warned him? You didn’t even tell me who we were after until we got here.”

  Faolan turned aside, disappearing back into the house. Orfeus followed. She knew he didn’t believe her. As long as he didn’t turn his claws on her.

  “So we need to look around?” Orfeus said, poking her head around the doorway into the kitchen, then withdrawing with a wince. It felt bad to be here when Linden wasn’t. And he clearly wasn’t: the air felt empty, a little stale, like the windows hadn’t been opened in a while. “See if he’s here?”

  Faolan scanned the ceiling. She could already tell him there was no secret hidden ominous attic full of more poorly-carved ducks. He wouldn’t believe her, so she didn’t. “Do you think he is?” Faolan said.

  Splodge nosed at her ankles, butting its head hard against her feet. Orfeus reached down and gave it a reassuring head pat, then looked through into Linden’s workshop.

  “No,” she said.

  The lantern was broken on the ground, splinters of glass amongst the sawdust. Planks lay on the table. Everything looked mostly like it had the last time she’d been here. Linden tried to make at least one project a week. It seemed impossible he wouldn’t have made anything for four weeks.

  Four weeks? The very night she’d gone, Splodge had come pressing plaintively at her ankles, when of course it wasn’t normally an outside cat, Linden was careful.

  Had he been missing even then?

  Faolan looked at her, and nodded. He stepped around the glass, leaving footprints in the sawdust. Orfeus wished they weren’t in here, as if leaving it undisturbed could make time not have passed. She wanted Linden to still be here, opening the door to her, a cup of tea and company when she’d pushed herself too far.

  Orfeus wrapped her arms around herself. Faolan walked past her, and Orfeus let out a glad exhale and followed him out.

  It was cloudy outside, grey. Orfeus leaned against the wall and devoutly didn’t look at her small house. She’d already taken everything she needed from there.

  She’d left this town gutted and empty.

  “So what now?” Orfeus said carefully. Faolan came and stood beside her. With an effort, she didn’t step away.

  Splodge pushed again at her legs, miaowing, pitiful and sad. The cat’s human disappearing would have been terrifying to it, a deprival of the easy food source and comfort it was used to, but depriving it of companionship as well. Orfeus scratched Splodge’s chin, then gave up and bent down and picked the cat up, hugging it close to her chest. Splodge didn’t like being picked up, normally. It pushed against Orfeus’s chest frantically and purred and purred and purred.

  “If they’re not in any of their haunts,” Faolan said slowly, “the hunt is sometimes given up.”

  That didn’t seem all that likely for the Order. Orfeus supposed the moral imperative of having to catch their prey and so on had to be balanced against having one of the limited number of hunte
rs out in the wilderness for months at a time, chasing down someone who might’ve just fallen into a well a week ago anyway. Resource management for vigilantes.

  Orfeus didn’t like how Faol’s eyes weighed on her. She looked away and shook her head. “We were just neighbours. If he’s not here, I doubt I could find him.”

  “You’re going to,” Faol said, calmly. Orfeus looked at him sharply, wondering what he was implying. Was he going to force her to somehow hunt Linden down here in Tinctora anyway, use her local knowledge, be seen by all and sundry as her fox-masked and complicit self?

  Faolan cocked his head. “Right?” she said. “It’s a friend. You’re going to say whatever soothing lies you think I’m likely to believe, and then as soon as you can, you’re going to find them in your own time. Not to turn them in, just to find them. Yes?”

  Orfeus gritted her teeth. She wished the Wolf didn’t somehow read her so well.

  Splodge butted its head against her chin. Orfeus lightly kissed it on the head. “He’s just a neighbour,” she said.

  Faolan shook his head and walked past her, striding fast, heading back out of town. At least she wouldn’t need to…talk to anyone.

  She was meant to like talking to people.

  Splodge lay in her arms, a little stiff, but quiet, letting itself be handled. “Guess you’re my cat now,” Orfeus said to it in an undertone. She wasn’t going to just leave it there, hunting down more birds and small creatures than were meant to be predated, and she wasn’t sure anyone else in town was close to Linden. “I’m glad you can hunt for yourself. I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

  She looked to the side and found Faolan’s eyes on her, and the Wolf quickly looked away. He at least didn’t say anything about her burst of unwise sentimentality.

  When they had reached the bikes, as Orfeus tried to figure out how to bring a cat up safely, the Wolf said, “I won’t stand in your way.”

  She looked at him, not sure how to take it. Not sure what he was asking for in return. “Thank you,” she said, guardedly. Maybe he just wanted her to grovel a bit, tired of always being the one to kneel.