“No. You told Talia to pray before setting her circle.”
“Certainly. First, it helps her accept that her Gift isn’t evil, and neither is the circle she’ll cast. Second, there’s my original training. Wiccans believe mediumship is a Gift connected to the spirit element, so prayer should help her connect with her Gift. Third, with a new practitioner, confidence is half the battle. If she believes God is helping her set her circle, she’s a lot more likely to do it.”
“Did you lie to me about the risk to Toby?”
“More or less.”
Rule stopped and swung. Cullen—damn him—ducked and danced back, ending up several feet away. Rule stood, chest heaving, hands clenched.
Cullen’s face was as carefully blank as his voice. “You need to scrap a bit before we can talk?”
“No.” It took another minute, though, to fight back the need to attack something. Anything. “Maybe afterward. It’s a good thing you’re fast.”
“I think so, too. Are you able to listen?”
Rule nodded once.
“First, the part I lied about. Lupus boys who feel the pull of the Change well before puberty do have a much greater chance of incurring the cancer when they reach First Change.”
Rule’s lips were numb. “How much greater?”
Cullen shook his head. “Insufficient data. Back when I was researching the cancer, I did find two adult lupi from different clans who’d experienced an early pull but did not go on to develop the cancer. No doubt there are others I didn’t find, but there’s no way of telling how many. But among the young lupi who did develop the cancer, the correlation seems to be one to one. I spoke with the families of thirty youngsters who developed the cancer. All of them said the boy had experienced an early pull.”
He paused. “You know that Etorri are especially prone to the wild cancer, but the bump in occurrence at adolescence is very small.”
Rule nodded. It was all he could manage.
“There’s a reason for that. Before I tell you, I’ll have your promise not to repeat this to anyone. That includes Isen.”
“What?!” Rule stared at his friend. Cullen’s face was stony. He meant it, meant that he’d go no further without Rule’s word to keep this from their Rho. Why would . . .
Because it was an Etorri secret, of course. A secret that Cullen had kept all these years, even as a lone wolf rejected by the clan. “Does Isen know you’ve held back Etorri secrets from him?”
Cullen nodded stiffly. “Before the gens amplexi, I told him there was an Etorri matter I was honor-pledged to withhold from him, but that it posed no threat or trouble to Nokolai. He allowed it.” A very small smile. “He did ask me not to go out of my way to reassure Etorri. He was amused by the notion they would be wondering if their secret was out.”
That sounded like his father. “Very well.”
“You promise not to repeat what I’m about to reveal about Etorri?”
“I do.”
“Etorri has a way of reducing—almost eliminating—the incidence of the cancer at First Change.”
“They what?” Etorri the honorable—the most revered clan, the most trusted. “They can keep it from happening and they haven’t told anyone?”
“Their method is not available to anyone except Etorri. You know what the Lady promised Etorri after Liguri’s sacrifice at the end of the Great War.”
“That his clan wouldn’t die.” And it hadn’t. Liguri—the single Etorri who’d survived that conflict—had been altered in ways that set him and his descendants apart; the magic was too wild in them, leaving them even less fertile than other lupi. In the long centuries since, the clan had nearly winked out of existence more than once. Yet Etorri persisted. It remained by far the smallest clan, yet it never died out.
An idea hit so hard that Rule felt it in his chest, stealing his breath. “Are you saying . . . Liguri of the Three Mantles? He’s the only lupus to have carried more than one, and he—his descendants—have suffered greatly from the cancer. Is Toby in danger because I’m carrying more than one—”
“No. Listen. Listen to me. After Liguri’s sacrifice, the Lady altered Etorri’s mantle. Among other things, this alteration makes it possible for them to save those of their youth who might otherwise succumb to the cancer at First Change.” He drew a breath. “The Etorri Rho holds about half the clan’s mantle. The rest is held by all adult male Etorri.”
For a moment Rule couldn’t take it in. If Cullen had said, “All adult Etorri are female,” it would have made about as much sense. Women couldn’t Change. Mantles couldn’t be held by anyone except the Rho and his heir. “You mean it’s held by them?” he said at last, speaking carefully. “Not that they are part of the mantle. That they hold part of the mantle.”
“That’s right. At First Change, the mantle is . . .” He paused, scrubbing a hand over the top of his head. “Words don’t fit well, do they? But as I understand it, in other clans a youth at First Change is exposed to the mantle by being surrounded by clan. With Etorri, the mantle is actively shared. That’s what keeps the cancer away, Rule. Holding a bit of mantle.”
Rule was still trying to get his mind around the impossible. It wasn’t just that he’d been told it was impossible, though he had. As one who carried parts of two mantles, he knew it was impossible. “Mantles despise division. They are . . . Their very nature is to unite.”
“I told you,” Cullen said, “the Lady altered Etorri’s mantle. Ah . . . it may ease your conscience about keeping this from your father to know that the Rhejes are aware of the nature of Etorri’s mantle. That part’s in the memories.”
“I don’t see how it could be altered so much it accepts division. I don’t see how the clan functions when members don’t have their places clearly set by the mantle.”
“But they do. Everyone holds part of it, but not equally. The mantle itself decides how much each one will hold.”
Rule shook his head. “I don’t disbelieve you, but I don’t . . .” Realization hit. “Good God. You carried a portion of the mantle, then. When you were kicked out of Etorri—”
Cullen had gone white around the jaw and eyes. “Yes. Until then, I held part of the Etorri mantle.” His smile held nothing resembling humor. “Actually, I was third in line for the Rho’s job, based on how much I held. That’s one of the reasons they were so strongly disinclined to allow me to remain clan. Can’t have a sorcerous Rho.”
Rule struggled to understand. How could they have done that to Cullen? To make him outcast was terrible enough. To take away the portion of mantle he’d held . . . “Just how different is the Etorri mantle?”
Cullen’s shrug lacked its usual fluidity. “Put it this way—the mantle was willing for me to remain Etorri. Never mind that.” His quick gesture banished the past. “The point is, Rule, Toby needs to be given a portion of mantle to hold at his First Change. The mantle will reinforce his pattern, not allowing the cancer to get a start.”
“Holding a Rho’s portion didn’t reinforce the pattern for Victor Frey.” Frey was dying of the wild cancer even as they spoke—slowly, yes, sustained by the Leidolf Rhej’s healing Gift, but dying.
“Victor is 160 years old. I’d say the mantle did a pretty good job for the first 159 years of his life.”
Rule took in a slow breath. Released it just as slowly. “Very well, then. The Nokolai mantle won’t accept splitting the way Etorri’s does. My father will have to be persuaded to make Toby his heir instead of me. It’s a break with tradition, naming an heir too young to function as Lu Nuncio, but—”