The Shaper's Gift

Previous The Honor of HesiemPrevious
Phil curled into a ball on the filthy cobblestones, felt the blood soak through his shirt, and tried to remember if werewolves were cannibals. The mugger had plunged a knife into his gut and extracted the money from his pocket with practiced efficiency. He could imagine no other motive for the owners of those glowing yellow eyes to be assembling like a flock of nocturnal vultures. He shivered with pain and yelled, each cry for help growing feebler than the last.
The sole functional street lamp was aflutter with moths enjoying the cool summer night. Yellow eyes bobbed at the edge of the light. Phil caught glimpses of long claws and lanky canine forms. He found a loose stone and threw it with a pitiful scream of rage.
A small figure broke away from the others and crept into the light. If it was a werewolf it was a sickly looking one. It had oversized round ears and appeared to be missing any trace of fur or a tail.
Phil squeezed his eyes shut. Perhaps this was j

Detective Travis Hade looked down at street vendor Skavie. The troll met his eyes and lashed the tufted tip of her tail. Fragrant smoke rose from dark meat kebabs laid on metal racks over a small fire. The spices smelled lovingly balanced, but not too strong to overwhelm a hint of gaminess from the meat.

“What is this?” Travis said.

Skavie grinned and waved a stubby-fingered hand over her wares. “Chicken.”

Travis crossed his arms and glared over the rims of his glasses. “And what do you tell your troll customers?”

Eye contact was very important to this race. Travis willed his expression to freeze, unblinking, like the carved image of a stern god.

Skavie folded her pointed ears against her bald head. “I knows the rules. ‘If it don’t gotsa collar, make it give you a dollar.’ I didn’t steal from no one.”

“That works for troll restaurants, but a cart on Shab Street is another matter. Any establishment accessible to human customers must serve approved species only.”

“Bah!” Skavie said, wrinkling her bulbous nose. “You humans and your limited palates. And you’re supposed to be a creative race.”

Travis’ stony look faltered with a smile. “You know, sometimes I don’t understand why we do the things we do either. Look, I don’t want to get you in trouble. Your place is cleaner than most of the human-run carts I’ve passed today. I’ll give you, say, three days to make the appropriate changes, and then if everything looks good no one will ever have to know.”

He knelt and held out his hand. She considered for a few moments, and then took it. Her blunt claws dug into his flesh. Her strength surprised him, and he had to fight down a wince of pain. He gripped back as hard as he could and pulled toward himself.

Skavie let go. Her ears pricked and she grinned. “Deal. You’re not all bad, for a human.”

He rose and rubbed his sore hand. “Glad to hear it. Once everything is on order I look forward to giving it a try. If it tastes as good as it smells you’ll have another regular to deal with.”

“You better buy a bunch then. Gonna hear a regular round of whining from the old lot. None of your human food got the same kick to it.”

He wished her luck, and then continued on his way.

He passed a female werewolf advertizing hand-knitted caps with slits for ears and caught sight of something unusual yet familiar. He hurried forward, trying to keep his movements casual and his expression neutral.

The male ghoul lying on the sidewalk was naked, save for a heavy leather collar. A thick-linked chain attached him to a wagon parked in the street. His ribs were prominent and his cheekbones bulged beneath large, intelligent eyes. Pedestrians stopped to gawk from a safe distance.

It brought an ache to Travis’ heart. He had seen wounded ghouls scavenging the streets who were in better condition. Ghouls were a blank space in the law books, unprotected, the lowest of the sentient races. He knew many who thought nothing of killing them, but somehow this seemed worse.

Travis crouched and tilted his head down, looking from the corners of his eyes. His voice was low and gentle. “Hello. I’m Travis. What is your name?”

The ghoul rose to all fours, muscles tensed, with a sound of metal clanking against cobblestones. He wrinkled his muzzle with a flash of sharp teeth. His ears swiveled to track everything that walked behind him.

Travis offered a closed-lipped smile and nudged a pebble around with his finger. “It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it.”

A tall bearded man wearing a wolf-skin coat stepped around from the front of the wagon. A bandage peeked from beneath the sleeve on his right arm. He patted the ghoul’s head with a thick, calloused hand. “Let’s not be rude. Say hello to the lawman, Critter.”

Critter licked his nose and lowered his head. “Hello,” he mumbled.

Travis held out his hand.

Critter gave it a quick sniff. His ears pricked forward and his eyes widened with cautious curiosity.

“Lookit that, he likes you,” the bearded man said. He offered his hand and Travis shook it. “Travis, was it? Name’s Clint. You like him, I can give you one that’ll grow up to be just as pretty.”

He laughed.

Travis forced a smile. “Sure, I would like to see. How many do you have?”

“Just the two. They aren’t easy to come by. Gotta get em’ small or they won’t grow up to mind you.”

Clint climbed into the wagon and retrieved a bundle of rabbit skins. He peeled them back to reveal a little black face. Sky blue eyes stared up at Travis. The baby gave a single, weak mewl.

Critter lay down on the sidewalk, rested his head on his hands, and sighed.

“Got em’ a couple days ago,” Clint said. “You can have him for fifteen dollars. You’ll never find a better watchdog.”

“May I see?” Travis said.

Clint lifted the baby from the skins and placed him in Travis’ hands. The ghoul was large enough to need two hands for proper support, but it was obvious that he should weigh more. He grasped Travis’ shirt with tiny clawed hands and cried. His back legs folded limply beneath him at an odd angle, offering no support to his otherwise vigorous search for milk.

“How did you get him?” Travis said.

Clint laughed. “Awkward story, that. Found Critter by chance. Figured now he was all grown up he could help me get more of the little ones. He found me a den all right, but he wouldn’t go anywhere near that mamma ghoul. Thought my first shot had downed her, but she popped back to life when I come out of that hole with the pup. Knocked him out of my hand and ate another one, down for sure that time. Took a bit of my arm with her. Thanks a lot, you old coward.”

He chuckled at Critter, who folded his ears back and looked away.

Travis ran a finger over an abrasion on the baby’s back. “And the father?”

“You don’t have to worry about him. If he was gonna try to get the pup back he woulda come after me already. So, whadda you say? He’s the perfect age to start training.”

Travis knew he had to choose his next step carefully. A man who set up shop beside a werewolf while wearing a wolf-skin coat was not to be taken lightly. Though it broke his heart to leave Critter, he decided he would have a better chance focusing on the baby. He met Clint’s eyes with a firm, dispassionate expression. “I’m afraid you aren’t permitted to sell these in such poor condition,” he lied. “Look at how his ribs are sticking out. He’ll be dead within days, you’ll be gone, and guess who will have to waste time processing complaints that will never be resolved? I’m sorry, but I’ll have to confiscate him.”

Clint glowered. “I just about lost my arm to get that thing!”

Travis’ brown eyes were hard as amber, his stare the unflinching gaze of a serpent. “I should fine you for trying to sell this to me. However, I’m feeling generous today. If you agree not to sell any more ghouls that are sick, injured, or malnourished, I’d be willing to pretend this never happened.”

Clint swore and spat on the sidewalk. “Fine,” he said, throwing the rabbit skins at the wagon. Some missed, and he didn’t bother to collect them. “Wasn’t getting any interest anyway.”

He whistled, and Critter leapt into the wagon.

Critter raised his head over the side and watched Travis and the baby while his master walked away. He smiled, and for a moment he almost looked happy.

Then the wagon lurched into motion and Travis was left behind to wonder what he had just gotten himself into.

***

Ellie’s smile was the most beautiful thing Travis had ever seen. She cooed at the ghoul and stroked his ears.

The baby’s claws scrabbled to find a grip on the glass bottle, but he had no difficulty accepting the nipple or the goat’s milk.

“Lucky little guy,” Ellie said. “Honestly, how hard can it be to feed him? You should have arrested the brute.”

Travis grinned at his wife. “Believe me, I wanted to.”

The baby finished his drink and yawned.

Ellie set him on a blanket on the kitchen table. She ran her fingers down his spine, manipulated his back legs, and pinched his toes. She frowned. “You’re right. Probably landed on something hard when that man dropped him and injured his spine. He could recover, but usually this kind of paralysis is permanent.”

She cut a piece of cloth and pinned it into place for a diaper. The infant was asleep before she was finished wrapping him in his blanket.

“The father is still out there somewhere,” Travis said. “I’ll go by Yerv and Zai’s den and see if they can track him down. Could take a while though. Do you think he’ll be all right if we leave him here while we’re at work?”

“Jack doesn’t have to be alone. He can come to work with me. I’ll try to convince Dr. Ozmund to give him a check-up. Maybe he’ll respond to the treatment better than our human paralysis patients.”

Travis grimaced. “Ellie…” he started, but he hated to think of that smile vanishing from her face, and choked back the words.

“I know,” she said, voice soft, not meeting his eyes. “It’s just, well, we never got to use it, you know? And he is a little boy. Would it hurt to give him a name while we wait until he can go home?”

Travis took one of her hands and squeezed it. “All right, if you think you can handle it. I don’t want you getting too attached. We’re just babysitting.”

Ellie kissed him. “I know you. If anyone is going to shed tears over having to say goodbye, it’s not going to be me.”

Travis laughed. He made no attempt to deny it.

***

Travis’ most unusual friends lived in a den behind a curiosity shop. He arrived with the sunrise, tired from a night of patrolling but excited to see the family. He took a slice of bread from his coat and crouched beside a stone that looked a bit looser than the others paving the alleyway. “Hello?”

The stone popped loose and a male ghoul’s face emerged. Yerv crawled out and stared at the bread, nostrils quivering.

His mate followed. Zai yawned, and then offered a smile. “We are pleased to see you, Mr. Travis. Has the Shaper rewarded the balance in the hearts of you and your mate?”

“Not yet,” Travis said, tearing the bread into halves and handing it out. “Not unless you count Ellie’s patients. Some of the men who come in needing stitches cry like children.”

A pudgy gray face peeked out from the den. Ghoul Travis gamboled out on all fours, large ears flopping up and down as they struggled to stand. “Tavis!” he squealed.

Human Travis grinned and scooped his namesake up. “My, what a big boy you are!”

The child took a mouthful of sleeve and shook his head, growling.

“Travis, no!” Zai said. She detached her son and placed a piece of bread in his mouth. “My apologies. He has bones, but he prefers to chew anything and everything else.”

“No problem,” Travis said. He took a piece of cloth from his pocket. He had rubbed it on the baby to absorb his scent. “I wanted to ask you for a favor. Yesterday I rescued a baby from a man who had killed his mother. He injured his back. Ellie thinks he may not be able to use his back legs, but she’s doing everything she can to fix him. Do you think you could track his father using this? I have no idea where the den was.”

The adults took turns sniffing the cloth.

“I do not know this bloodline,” Yerv said, “but I would be able to identify the father, yes.”

“Good,” Travis said. “If you find him, could you bring him to the house so he can take the baby home?”

Yerv nodded. “Such a sad event. The father will be most grateful to you for providing a chance to put his child to rest.”

Travis grimaced. “Wait! You’re saying that as soon as he gets him back he’s going to kill him? His own son?”

Zai squeezed her child to her chest and closed her eyes.

“It is the kindest thing he can do for him,” Yerv said. “What life could such a child have? His whole world would be the dark, cramped space of his den. He could never run beneath the moon or seek the company of a mate. It is unthinkable. When his father consumes him his spirit will live on, and they will both be at peace.”

Travis sighed. “There is no way I’m taking that baby out of Ellie’s arms and telling her that is going to happen to him. We’ll just… contact the father and see how it goes from there. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe he won’t see it that way.”

He said his goodbyes with a heavy heart. He had based his whole career on trying to understand and respect other races. He wondered if he had any right to let his emotions interfere with the way they took care of their own.

Little Travis wriggled from his mother’s grip and took a few wobbly steps on two legs, holding onto her shirt for support.

***

Travis awoke to the smell of bread baking. He rubbed his eyes and groaned. Ellie should have been at the hospital, not in the kitchen. For the first time he felt anxious instead of excited for an unexpected schedule change to give them extra time together. He hadn’t thought of a gentle way to explain last night’s revelation about ghoul customs.

He got dressed, shaved, and headed for the kitchen. A box sat on the dining room floor by the open kitchen door. Ellie had her back to him and was cutting potatoes and carrots.

“Jack” clawed his way up the side of his prison, lost his grip, and tipped backward onto his blanket. He reached for Travis and squeaked.

“It’ll do for now, but we need something bigger,” Ellie said. “He’ll be strong enough to climb the walls soon.”

“Day off, or just going in late?” Travis said.

Ellie sucked in a breath through her teeth. She turned around and wiped a clean knife on her apron. “More like permanent unpaid time off.”

“What happened?”

She stabbed a potato. “You know how I once told you Dr. Ozmund is a big-headed bigot?”

“Oh Ellie, you didn’t…”

“To his face. I showed him Jack and asked for permission to have him examined, and he just gave me this look. He called all the nurses together and lectured us about ‘remembering how our actions reflect on his practice.’ Then he told me he was hearing too much about the nonhumans I treat at home, and said I needed to stop if I was going to continue working for him. As if splinting some werewolf child’s broken arm is doing a huge disservice to a hospital that won’t even see him!”

Travis could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “He has no right to-”

“Do you think he cares?” Ellie said, waving the skewered potato. “So then I said some stupid things, and nobody else had a word of comment, and he fired me. I think technically I both quit and got fired at the same time.”

She stabbed the knife through the potato into the cutting board.

Travis picked Jack up and let him cling to his shirt. “Ellie, I’m sorry. Are you all right? I don’t suppose you want me to talk to him?”

“No! I wash my hands of the whole mess. I may not have the fancy equipment or spells, but I can still do a damn lot of good right here. I can be my own boss and set my own hours and nobody will yell at me but myself. So, what’s the word from last night?”

“Well, Yerv thinks he can find the father, and he’ll get them reunited as soon as possible.”

***

A month passed, and the box was no match for Jack’s determined climbing. Travis built him a playpen and clipped his claws, but they still had to keep a close watch for breakouts. Ellie sewed him a one-piece garment with extra padding on the knees. He dragged his unresponsive legs across the floor and appeared to take great joy in discovering new things to chew.

Yerv arrived one night with his typical greeting scratch at the kitchen window. He was too nervous to come in through the front door; too many lights along the street. Ellie opened the window and he leapt in, quiet and graceful as a cat. She set an extra bowl of soup at the dinner table.

Travis waited until he had licked the bowl clean. “Did you find him?”

“Yes,” Yerv said. He bowed his head and tilted his ears back. “He is Ywore. The child’s name is Taak. Ywore is not coping well with the loss of his mate. I could not convince him to come here. He is terrified of all humans. Has the child regained the ability to walk?”

“No,” Ellie said, “but he’s fat and full of energy now. If Ywore can make sure he doesn’t develop sores on his legs, where he can’t feel them, he should be all right.”

“He cannot care for the child in such a state, but he would be pleased to have him back. He can put him to rest quickly and with no pain.”

“Oh, gods!” Ellie said. She covered her mouth and looked away.

“However, I also told him that you are unusual humans, a balance to those such as the one who killed his mate. If you wish, you have his blessing to find an alternative.”

Travis put his hand on Ellie’s arm and answered before she could ask her question. “Yes.”

She hugged him. “Thank you,” she said. She turned to the ghoul. “And thank you too, Yerv. Can you tell Ywore that we’ll take very good care of him? He’s always welcome to come see him.”

Yerv smiled. “Of course. Zai was right. The Shaper has rewarded your kindness. I will try to convince Ywore to visit soon.”

After dinner they showed Yerv their new son, and the ghoul complimented them for keeping him in such good health. They sent him home with leftovers and a wool sweater which Travis was bound to either chew up or outgrow before long.

That night in bed a thought occurred to Travis. “So, is it Jack or Taak?”

“It’s funny how close they sound,” Ellie said, “as if that Shaper god of theirs was playing a little joke on us. Of course it’s Taak. Even if Ywore won’t do anything else for him, at least he gave him his true name back.”

“All right, Taak it is then.”

She fell asleep, leaving him to wonder if he understood just what he had gotten himself into.

Next An Invitation for Other PapaPrevious
The third member of his species Taak saw was missing half of his face. The male ghoul leapt over the backyard fence with grace the child could only dream of and landed in a tense crouch. When he rose on two legs he was almost as tall as a human. His remaining eye flashed white in the moonlight.
Taak dug his claws into the seat of his chair and trembled. In all the time he had spent imagining what Other Papa would be like, “scary” hadn’t crossed his mind.
The male dropped back on all fours and slunk low to the ground. His eye was on the plate of chicken and dumplings Taak had left beside his chair. Muscles rippled beneath his dirty clothing. He pounced on the plate and tossed the food into the back of his throat, as if chewing were optional. It was gone in moments.
Taak’s tongue was dry and heavy and he couldn’t remember where he meant to begin. Mama and Papa snored through the window behind his chair. Crickets chirped. His belly g