Free Bookworm III by Christopher Nuttall Page A

or let them go without us.”
    Johan took her hand and allowed her to help him to his feet. She was strong, stronger than he’d realised. He’d known that werewolves had enhanced senses of smell, even in human form, but he hadn’t known they were physically strong too. Up close, her scent was almost overpowering, a wild scent that played hell with his mind. Part of him wanted to stay close to her; the remainder wanted to run, to leave her far behind. It was easy to remember, now, that werewolves were predators. And to understand why they were feared.
    “We can’t leave Elaine here,” he said, trying to sound firm. A lifetime in his family’s house had taught him never to try to assert himself. Even the spellbound maids had enjoyed more magic than himself. “I won’t leave her here.”
    “Nor will I,” Daria assured him. She let go of his hand, then turned and started to stride towards the largest carriage. “Come with me.”
    Johan followed her as she walked up to the carriage and then around it, to where a group of men and women were chatting. It was an odd sight; there were times when the group seemed to defer to one or two members and times when they just argued and argued, as if there was no one really in charge. Johan recalled, from what little he’d read, that werewolf packs tended to have an alpha male and an alpha female, but – being partly human – there was a great deal of competition for the posts. He couldn’t help wondering how they settled arguments amongst themselves without one of the combatants dying. Maybe they fought to first blood instead.
    He hung back as Daria spoke to the group, her face somehow seeming more canine than ever. It was spooky, almost; werewolves were bound by their curse, if he recalled correctly. They had free will and human-level intelligence, yet they also had wolfish patterns in their behaviour that were very hard to break. Judging from the way the pack elders shifted in their circle, it was quite likely that some of them thought – or felt – that Daria shouldn’t have interrupted.
    Daria looked back at him. “They want to go now.”
    “Then they can go,” Johan said. Elaine was more important than leaving the city with the Travellers. They could make their way to another city and then make contact with the Travellers there, or even hire horses from the closest Iron Dragon station to the badlands. “I need to go after Elaine ...”
    A loud trumpet blew, silencing debate. Some of the wolves covered their ears – to them, the trumpet had been intolerably loud – while others howled in shock. The children, running between carriages in a wild game of catch, snapped into wolf forms and howled too, sending up a terrifying racket. Johan almost panicked – he’d read too many stories of howling wolves – as the werewolves huddled together, then relaxed as the parents urged them back into human forms. Daria caught his arm and tugged him away from them, towards a tall man carrying a trumpet in one hand and a scroll in the other.
    “A herald?” Johan asked. He hadn’t seen one since the day they’d arrived in the city, when one of them had announced the arrival of the Conidian Family to anyone who cared to listen. “What’s he doing here?”
    Daria shrugged.
    The herald slowly unfolded his scroll, his every action suggesting that he was well aware of his own importance. Johan eyed the man’s uniform – a red, yellow and green creation that looked alarmingly like a trifle – and carefully kept his amusement to himself. Whoever had designed the uniforms had either been a sadist or had wanted to make damn sure that the wearer would be instantly recognised. Johan rather hoped the herald was paid good money for his efforts. Few people would want to wear such a uniform unless they were insulted with a fairly considerable bribe.
    “Hear Ye, Hear Ye,” the herald said. His voice was loud enough to carry over the howling from the baby werewolves, probably augmented