Germany, Present Day
Rudi
Rudi walked behind Lukas and the king to the room where Oscar, the heir apparent, waited. Each walked silently, wrapped in their own thoughts or, in Rudi’s case, guilt. Many of the people they passed stared at the prince, though just as many bowed their head in respect. A scurry of whispers swirled after them—hissed comments, gossip, and speculation.
What did the clan think of Rudi and how he’d kept the prince? Was he despised or admired? Could he ever come back to the court? Or should he start testing all his food, making sure no one had poisoned him?
From the main working areas, they turned down a darkened hall—one of the older parts of the castle—with cold stone floors and no rugs to soften them. The narrow passage smelled sterile and contained only traces of old dust and faraway deserts.
Ancient statues brought from the original hound temples lined the walls, with some partially hidden in climate-controlled boxes. Rudi slowed as he walked, fascinated. He’d only ever seen photos of these, not the actual stone deities.
The elongated snout of I’tiram still bore flecks of the original green paint, though most of the stone he was carved out of was bare. He was the one who guided faithful hounds to peaceful pastures after they died. Na-ya, the warrior god, stood with huge flexed arms and a chest piece carved with wings. According to the myths, he spoke with the birds just as the raven clan could. Kulka, Izcuintli-a, all were there, in their various incarnations though the millennia.
Rudi wished he had time to study the figures, to spend time with the history of his clan, but it had never been a priority. At least no shadows tainted the air here.
Two of the hound guard waited outside the chamber where the heir apparent waited, standing in the usual blue uniform, with large automatic weapons at their sides and their hands transformed into claws.
A minister of the court waited with them, dressed in a fine navy blue suit, a white shirt with red pinstripes, and a gold-and-red tie. The king merely nodded at him as he and Lukas entered the room.
The minister stepped neatly in front of Rudi, licking his flabby lips and saying, “The heir apparent would like to speak with the king and Lukas alone.”
Heir apparent? But wasn’t the vote next summer? Lukas was no longer in the running at all?
Rudi glanced at Lukas, who stood rigid, his face betraying no emotion. Only the stiffness in which he held himself told Rudi the truth: that Lukas was also surprised, as well as possibly hurt.
“No,” Rudi said, stepping forward. “I’ll accompany him.” Rudi had no intention of letting Lukas out of his sight. He’d never admit it, but on more than one night in Seattle, he’d woken late and gone to check on the boy, making sure he was all right, that he was still human, still here.
Lukas turned back and looked at Rudi. “It’ll be okay,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Rudi had to ask. The political waters here were deep, and Lukas had never learned to swim in them.
Lukas looked at the door, then back at Rudi, and nodded. “Yes. Nothing here could hold me. Or harm me.”
Rudi didn’t bother pointing out that Lukas could be facing hurts other than physical. But at least the boy felt safe. Rudi wondered about Lukas’ hound soul, why it felt comfortable making such declarations (because it was obvious to him, at least, that this pronouncement had come from Lukas’ hound soul, and not from the gangly teenaged boy who stood in front of him.)
Then again, no one here at the court had seen Lukas transform to his natural hound shape now that he was fully grown. He’d been big as a boy, but Rudi would bet they had no idea that Lukas’ hound form had grown so large. They wouldn’t be prepared to defend against a hound the size of a small pony.
“Why don’t you wait with Oma?” Lukas suggested.
“All right,” Rudi said. He bowed his head to the prince and added, “I will wait for you there, Lukas.” He said the name deliberately, to show the minister, the king, and the guard the closeness of their relationship, as well as to respect Lukas’ wishes and not address him by his title.
“Thank you,” Lukas said. He turned, visibly braced himself, then walked into the room.
Rudi waited for a few moments, listening hard, scenting the air, making sure that nothing had attacked Lukas, that an ambush hadn’t been laid. When Rudi didn’t hear or smell anything, he turned to go.
“I hear we owe you a debt,” the minister said.
Rudi turned back. “It was an honor,” he said. And he meant it. He’d always been honored by Lady Metzler’s trust and request. He still wished, though, that his actions hadn’t caused Lukas’ family so much pain.
“Yes,” the minister said, his whippet-like snout pushing forward. “But is it a debt of honor? Or a debt of blood?”
Rudi stared at him passively, consciously not reacting. A debt of blood was usually decreed when a deed required revenge.
The minister sniffed the air, then transformed fully back to human. “You have little fear. That is good,” he declared.
Rudi didn’t roll his eyes at the pompous proclamation. The minister must have some sort of public-facing aspect to his ministry—it was the only thing that explained his glad-hand style.
“And you care about the boy.”
“Of course,” Rudi said, keeping his tone mild. “He’s my charge.” Rudi had always felt that way about Lukas, even when he’d been in hound form. In many ways, Lukas was the son Rudi would never have.
“Guard him well,” the minister said as he strolled past Rudi, back down the hall. “The court needs him,” he threw over his shoulder.
Rudi shook his head. The world needed Lukas more, if the threat of the shadows were real.
In the darkened hall, Rudi grew as stiff and still as one of the statues.
If the threat were real?
Where had that thought come from? Not from him. Rudi had seen the threat. He knew it was real.
The shadows were more insidious than he’d realized, getting inside his head that way. He would have to tell Lukas later, make him aware of the danger.
Rudi strode out from the castle into the late spring sunshine, breathing in the clean air. He passed into the kitchen gardens. Pumpkins and squashes decayed in one corner, spilling their guts and seeds across the bare ground, preparing and planting the patch for the fall. Spring shoots pushed thin blades out of the earth in strict rows. Rudi remembered fresh cabbages, green and wax beans, cucumbers, and tomatoes from these gardens.
No shadows tainted the modified house that held the hound infirmary. Their scent trailed after Lady Metzler, but that was just because she’d been infected with them for so long.
Was there something native to the building, either in the original architecture or one of the redesigns? Some sort of healing spell that held them at bay? Or was it in the nature of the place, where few people lived, and only those who were sick and dying?
Rudi stepped out of the bright sunlight into the darkened hallway, then stopped and let his eyes adjust. He encouraged his hound soul to rise, then he sniffed the air, trying to tease apart the scents, to see if there was something different here.
Beyond the normal warm fur smells of the hounds and the medicinal and chemical scents of modern medicine lay a thread of cool mint green. Rudi didn’t recognize it; he’d never scented anything like it before. It seemed important, and his hound soul kept bringing him back to it after he’d moved on to the scents of the people there and the traces of things the wind carried through the cracks and crevices.
Finally, he understood: It was the opposite of the scent of the shadows.
Head held high, Rudi tracked the scent through the hospital, down the twisting halls, past Lady Metzler’s room, around the two examination rooms, then finally, back to the kitchen.
White-and-green tile in an old-fashioned hexagon pattern made up the splashboards. The counters were white, and the cupboards, too. However, the kitchen didn’t seem sterile, but homey—maybe it was the large butcher-block table supported by stout legs in the center of the room, the bright yellow daffodils in the center of it, or the copper-bottomed pots and pans that hung from a black iron oval above it.
A young woman from India sat on a stool near the sink, looking out the window. A plate with half a sandwich rested on the counter before her along with some pickled vegetables. Her long black hair was pulled back into a loose braid, highlighting her broad and friendly features. She beamed a large smile directly at Rudi. Her traditional sari was red and orange, worn over a gold blouse.
“Good day,” she said in accent-less German.
“Good day,” Rudi replied, just as formally. He walked over to where she was seated, still seeking that scent. He smelled finely baked bread, liverwurst, stone-ground mustard, vinegar, and dill.
“Is there something I can help with?”
She didn’t seem put out by Rudi’s inattention, how he sniffed the air around her. Though she was fully human, she obviously knew about the clans.
Finally, Rudi tracked the scent trail to the open jar of pickled vegetables next to the woman’s plate. Below the strong smell of vinegar, sugar, and dill came that intriguing odor.
“Where did you get those?” Rudi asked. They weren’t magic, not really, just soaked or blessed with something pure and green.
“My brother makes them,” the woman replied happily. “Would you like some?”
“Please,” Rudi said, already anticipating the fresh crunch of dill, the heady mint, and that trickle of something spring-like and alive.
“I’m Harita,” she said as she got a plate and fork for Rudi. “I’m a medical student, doing shift work here.”
That made sense, to bring in medical students for the quiet shifts. Rudi eagerly helped himself to small pearl onions, baby carrots, and baby cucumbers. “What are you majoring in?”
“Clan diseases and cures. For all the clans.”
Rudi almost choked on the amazing baby carrot he’d been chewing. “Not just the hound clan?” he clarified.
“No, no. Not just the hound clan.” Her voice dropped and Harita looked around the room, as if verifying they were alone. “My family isn’t hound clan,” she said softly.
“Really?” he asked, surprised. Though the court had regular interactions with other clans and other clan members, he was surprised that they’d hire someone from a different clan. Then again, that must mean she was doubly competent, probably some level of genius when it came to healing. “I’m glad they hired you, though,” Rudi said. And he was. There was something about her, something calm and cool, that he’d welcome if he were ill.
Harita gave him her wide smile again. “I’m kind of the black sheep of the family,” she explained.
“What, did you stay out past your curfew one time too often?” Rudi teased. This woman—girl, really—was far too good and pure. To label her as some kind of shamed family member was ridiculous.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Harita said, laughing. Then the smile fled her face. “I’m from the tiger clan, you see. The power is supposed to pass from mother to daughter.”
“I see,” Rudi said. And he did. Still. “Not every child born to a clan family is supposed to inherit the clan form.” If they did, there would be far too many of the clan.
The numbers of each clan stayed constant through the centuries. Philosophers had debated this for just as long, speculating on reincarnation, natural limits on the number of animal souls, as well as more outlandish theories, like moon cycles and battles between the gods keeping their numbers low.
“True,” Harita said, pushing the open jar of pickled vegetables toward Rudi so he could have more. “But it was worse than that.”
“I’m sorry,” Rudi said. He didn’t ask any more questions—Harita could tell him or not, if she chose. He recognized what she was doing, though: telling a story about her past to gain his trust. As an outsider, and a full human, it was a good strategy.
“You see, my brother inherited the power. Not me.”
“Ah.” A male tiger warrior would be as out of step with his clan as a female hound. “Were you raised here, in Germany, then?”
Harita shook her head. “My family is in England, and—”
Lukas barged in, heading straight for the pickles, picking up the jar and sniffing it. “Where did you get these?” he demanded.
Harita gave her brightest smile to the prince, making Rudi instantly uncomfortable.
Lukas hadn’t shown any interest in girls yet—then again, he’d barely had time to be human.
Fortunately for Rudi’s blood pressure, Lukas seemed oblivious to the charm being thrown his way.
“My brother makes them. He gets the freshest produce he can, then ages the brine,” Harita replied, still with that sweet smile.
Lukas held the jar up to the light, as if he could see something through the liquid, see the secret of its delightful taste and power. Then he turned to Rudi and said one word.
“Knight.”
# # #
Virmal, Harita’s brother, was still in classes and wouldn’t be back to their flat until after eight, so after getting the address and instructions, Lukas insisted that Rudi take them to a hotel.
“Are you sure?” Rudi asked, drawing Lukas outside into the cool evening. The spring air nipped at Rudi’s bare neck and ruffled his hair, carrying a thousand interesting scents that he wanted to chase, a sure sign that he was tired and distracted.
“Yes,” Lukas replied immediately. He wrapped his arms across his chest.
Was he tired? Or upset? Rudi didn’t know.
Lukas stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath.
Rudi took in all the scents as well, letting the clean air fill his lungs and brush away the remaining stench of the shadows.
“I can’t stay there,” Lukas said, looking mournfully back at the castle. “Not until it’s been cleaned. Purified.”
“We’ll go, then,” Rudi said. The heady scent of the woods rolled over him, filled with the rich promises of scented earth and the mysteries hidden by the trees.
When Rudi pulled his awareness back, he found Lukas was staring at the trees, too. He waited until Lukas shook himself and looked forward again. “You could go for a run first,” Rudi suggested.
Lukas shook his head violently. “No. I don’t want to. I can’t change. Not yet.” Stark hunger filled his face.
It was obvious that Lukas wanted to transform, to run in the woods of his childhood. What was holding him back?
“It’ll be okay,” Rudi told him.
“You don’t know that,” Lukas snapped. He stopped himself, sighed heavily, and continued, addressing his shoes. “What happens if I get stuck again? If the curse comes back? What if I can’t change back?”
“We’ll just find Albert again,” Rudi said lightly, though his heart was heavy and his cheeks enflamed. He should have realized Lukas didn’t want to transform—would probably fight it until his hound soul forced it on him. Most of the hound clan only changed once a month—older recitations recommended following the cycle of the moon and transforming when it was full.
It must have been doubly hard on Lukas, though, since he’d spent so much life in his hound form.
“Let’s get out of here,” Lukas said, turning and walking toward the car.
“Don’t we have to stay until your mother arrives?” Rudi asked, falling into step beside Lukas.
Another sigh. “I saw her.”
After a long pause, Rudi finally had to ask, “And?”
“The good news is that she hasn’t been infected by the shadows,” Lukas said slowly. “But she’s…different. Changed. I remember her being one of the strongest people in the world. Stronger than Da, really. She was the driving force in our family. But, something broke her. Losing me, losing Greta, maybe. She knows Greta’s gone, too. It was probably worse, seeing Greta every day, knowing she was no longer there.”
The boy’s voice cracked, along with Rudi’s heart. “Lukas,” Rudi said, pausing. “I’m so sorry.” He tentatively reached up and put his hand on the back of Lukas’ neck, squeezing gently.
Lukas nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, then continuing. “She and Da are separated, I guess.”
“There’s no word of problems outside the court,” Rudi told him.
“She can’t stand to be in the castle.” Lukas gave a harsh laugh. “Says it smells like death. She’s the only one who believes me about the shadows, and she won’t stay.”
“What do you mean?” Rudi asked. How could he protect Lukas from such hurts? He was completely inadequate as a guardian.
“She wouldn’t even stay for dinner. She did want to have breakfast with me, tomorrow, at her hotel.”
“That’s good,” Rudi said as they started walking again, passing the side of the castle and out to the front yard.
Rudi hesitated. He had to say something. But what? He waited until they’d gotten into the car before he turned to Lukas and said, “Lukas, I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Lukas asked, looking bewildered.
“Lady Metzler, your grandmother, assured me that she would tell your parents that you were alive and well.”
“She did tell them,” Lukas pointed out. “For a while, until the shadows grew too much.”
“But I should have realized, I should have sent more reports, figured out how to let them know…I don’t know. Something. I’m sorry I—”
“No,” Lukas said adamantly. “Don’t you dare regret what you’ve done. Don’t you dare regret taking me in.”
Rudi had never seen Lukas so angry. He responded with his own fierceness. “I don’t regret it,” he said with a snarl. “I’m glad I kept you safe from the shadows here. They’re an abomination. I believe you when you say you wouldn’t have survived. I just—”
Rudi deflated, his anger flowing away. “I just wish I could have done more.” He’d never be rid of this guilt and regret, he was certain.
Lukas nodded. “There really wasn’t anything more you could have done. Not until I met Sally. She was the first sign. Besides, no matter how hard you pushed, I wouldn’t have told you anything.”
Rudi shook his head. The strength of the boy, the secrets he’d had to carry. It just wasn’t fair, that he’d been forced to grow up that way.
After they started driving, Rudi asked, “Have you found the tiger warrior you need?”
“Maybe. I’ll know when I get close enough to really scent him,” Lukas admitted. “But how will I get him back to Seattle? Do we all need to be in Seattle? Or do I need to bring the others here? I don’t know where the final battle will be. Or when.”
“We can figure it out,” Rudi said.
Lukas gave a dejected sigh.
“Those are simply logistics,” Rudi pointed out. “We live in a world connected by good transportation. Car, trains, planes—we’ll make it work.” He had money saved for emergencies—and flying an elite band of warriors to fight the shadows and save the world surely counted as a legitimate cause for dipping into his savings.
Lukas nodded, then added, “Thank you for today.”
Rudi snorted. “What did I do?”
“You were there, always ready to support me, or protect me.”
“You’re my—” Rudi stopped, unsure if there was a term. “Charge. Ward, I suppose.”
“Ward. Good. I like that,” Lukas said. “I don’t want to leave you,” he added in a small voice.
“No, Lukas, my prince, I am bound to you. I will serve you and take care of you, as long as you desire,” Rudi said fiercely. “Never doubt that.”
Rudi looked over at the boy. The strain of the day was obvious in the dark circles under his eyes, the lines around his mouth.
“I’m here, and I’ll stay by your side, as long as you’ll have me. While you protect and guard the others, I’ll guard you,” he promised.
“Thank you,” Lukas said, his eyes closing as if he finally felt safe.
Rudi drove them carefully down the hill and into the city. Though he still felt as though he’d failed the prince for most of his life, he really hoped he’d be able to keep at least one of his promises.