Among Wolves

by Nancy K. Wallace

  Devin wheeled to look at him, afraid of another setback. “I want to get an early start tomorrow,” he reminded him.

  Marcus pointed a finger. “Our departure still depends on the weather, Devin. An ice storm is far worse to deal with than a snowstorm.”

  “We can’t afford any more delays…” Devin began.

  Gaspard finished off the last of Devin’s brandy and laid a hand on his shoulder, the glass still dangling from his finger.

  “Don’t worry,” he predicted, his words slightly slurred, “tomorrow will be beautiful.”

  Devin wakened to the sound of water dripping off the eaves outside his window. The sky was cloudless and the slushy accumulation of snow had melted overnight. He was surprised to find Marcus already dressed.

  “The snow is all but gone and the cold weather seems to have cleared off to the east,” Marcus said. “I’ll go now and deliver your letters and register our itinerary at the same time. You and Gaspard can have breakfast. Be ready to leave when I get back.”

  “You’re leaving me alone?” Devin asked in surprise.

  “I’m leaving you with Gaspard,” Marcus clarified. “See that you don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.” He held out his hand. “Where are your letters?”

  Devin rummaged through his knapsack and pulled out two envelopes. One was still unsealed. He’d been reluctant to include everything that had occurred since he left but there was every possibility that Marcus was filing his own report. Late last night, he’d included the details of LeBeau’s note. This morning, he regretted adding it to his father’s worries.

  He glanced up at Marcus. “Have you written to him as well?”

  Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Do I need to?”

  Devin shook his head and sealed the envelope. “No, I just hate to worry him.”

  Marcus slipped on his jacket. “You’ll worry him more if you don’t report all the information available to you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Devin and Gaspard had a leisurely breakfast and packed their few belongings, but it was nearly noon before Marcus returned.

  “The wheels of our government grind very slowly here,” he said, in answer to their questions. “We’ll be lucky to reach Briseé by nightfall. Let’s get going.”

  The air had warmed considerably by midday and the sun was welcome on their backs as they left the city. Soon, cobbled streets gave way to unpaved country roads. Wooded areas still sheltered remnants of snow, and deep hollows and valleys harbored pockets of air so cold they could see their breath. Before long, the dirt roads deteriorated into little more than beaten paths threading their way between cow pastures.

  They stopped to rest on a high knoll, surveying miles of dry stone walls snaking off into the distance. Clouds raced across the sky casting constantly changing shadows that chased each other across the fields. Grass along the stream beds was already vibrantly green as spring stubbornly advanced, despite yesterday’s weather. Coffee-colored cows dotted the landscape.

  “Cheese,” Gaspard remarked suddenly.

  Devin turned to look at him. “Cheese?”

  “That’s what Ombria is famous for,” Gaspard explained. “I was trying to remember last night after I went to bed. Every province has its own food specialty; I just couldn’t remember Ombria’s.”

  “You could have asked,” Devin said.

  “I’d rather have figured it out for myself,” Gaspard replied. “When I admit my stupidity, it only makes you look smug.”

  “That’s not true!” Devin protested.

  Gaspard grinned. “I’m not holding it against you. I’m just trying not to give you any more opportunities to prove your superior intellect.”

  Devin ignored him, sliding from his perch on the top of the stone wall to the pasture on the other side. He walked a few feet forward and bent to unearth a rectangular stone pillar covered by grass and ivy.

  “Do you think this could be a monolith, Gaspard?”

  Gaspard dropped down beside him. Together they pulled away the vegetation, revealing a cut stone, about eighteen inches square and nearly nine feet in length. Inscribed halfway up on the two visible sides was a solid circle surrounded by four consecutively larger rings.

  “What does it mean?” Gaspard asked.

  Devin shrugged “I don’t think anyone knows for certain. I’ve read about these. There are supposed to be hundreds of them from Ombria clear to the western coast of Perouse. In the southern part of Arcadia, dozens are still standing, two by two, in perfect alignment, from east to west.”

  Gaspard traced the circular symbol with his finger. “Surely, there must be some legend or folktale that explains their origins?”

  “I hope the Chronicles will shed some light on them,” Devin replied. “Viénne’s archeologists have traditionally ignored any contribution they might add to their historic data.”

  Marcus scowled down on them from the wall. “If you two are done excavating, we need to move on. By my calculations, we’re only halfway to Briseé.”

  Devin stood up and dusted his hands off on his trousers. “Give me a minute. I just want to take a rubbing of this design.” He scrambled back over the wall and retrieved paper and a piece of charcoal from his knapsack.

  Marcus glowered. “Just be quick about it. Do I need to remind you that the symbol of Ombria is a wolf? Unless you relish being eaten tonight, we need to be on our way!”

  It was dusk by the time they sighted the first lights of Briseé. The town was built around a community garden with common grazing land around it. Cottages, constructed of the same limestone as the familiar stone walls, stood snug and cozy in the fading light. Some windows were already shuttered against the night but the tavern windows were still bright. Devin didn’t miss the furtive look Marcus threw back along the road as he shepherded them inside.

  It was there in the public room that Devin saw the first storyteller’s cloak. It had been thrown carelessly across the back of a bench and its owner had gathered his audience close by the hearth. He stood with his arms flung wide, his face reddened by the light from the flames. But it was the light in his eyes and the pitch of his voice that attracted Devin. He was inexorably drawn to him, though the story was already in progress. Discarding his knapsack and his jacket on the nearest chair, he fell in with the group gathered in spellbound silence at the storyteller’s feet.

  CHAPTER 9

  Night in Briseé

  Devin listened as the mesmerizing voice continued:

  “And so, Gaêtan stood alone in the village square. All around him the windows of the cottages were dark and shuttered. The chimneys stood stark against the forest, not a puff of smoke emerged from their tops. He realized then that the people of Rameau were gone. Not one man, woman, or child remained to welcome him home. He fell to his knees in the overgrown gardens and wept.”

  For a moment no one spoke and then appreciative whispers rippled through the crowd. Devin joined in the enthusiastic clapping that followed. Unfortunately, he had arrived at the end of the recitation. The storyteller smiled and bowed, accepting both congratulations and monetary tributes, and made his way to the bar. Devin ducked in and out of the crowd to reach him. He saw Gaspard and Marcus seated farther down the battered wooden counter finishing their first drink of the evening.

  Devin secured a stool next to the storyteller.

  “I’m sorry I missed the beginning of that tale. What happened to the people of Rameau?”

  The man turned to face him. Dark curly hair framed a face that was young and unlined.

  “No one knows,” he answered. “An entire village of people disappeared and the only one left to tell the story was Gaêtan.”

  Devin felt a thrill of excitement shoot through him. “Really?” he asked. “And no one has ever solved the mystery?”

  The storyteller inclined his head. “If they have, monsieur, it has never been added to the Chronicle of Ombria. Do I know you?”

  “I’m sorry,” Devin apologized, extending
his hand. “I’m Devin Roché.”

  “Adrian Devereux,” he replied. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “We arrived in Pireé yesterday,” he explained. “I had expected to spend last night in Briseé but we were delayed by a snowstorm.”

  Adrian nodded sympathetically. “Spring has been late in coming this year. Our cows were calving in deep snow. We lost a lot of little ones.”

  “You live close by?” Devin asked.

  Adrian smiled. “Does a bard ever really have a place to call home? My parents are from Briseé but I spend most of my time traveling. I’m back in town for a family wedding. It seems I’m always expected to put in a few local performances while I’m here.”

  Marcus interrupted their conversation, placing a heavy hand on Devin’s shoulder.

  “There are no rooms available here,” he growled. “Perhaps, if you invoke your father’s name…”

  Devin gave a quick shake of his head. The last thing he wished to do was drag his father’s position into this situation. Any progress he’d made toward ingratiating himself with the village residents would be lost in a veil of suspicion and contempt.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he murmured, dismissing Marcus with a handful of coins. “Go order something to eat for yourself and Gaspard.”

  “My sister’s being married the day after tomorrow,” Adrian explained. “I’m afraid this is the only inn, and it’s full of my relatives.”

  “It’s no problem,” Devin said. “Perhaps, after we’ve eaten, we’ll just head on to Brisance.”

  Adrian touched his arm. “I would advise against it. The roads between here and Brisance aren’t safe at night.”

  Devin indicated his knapsack. “I fear we’ve little to lose.”

  Adrian raised his eyebrows. “You do not value your life, monsieur?”

  Devin flushed. “Of course, I just meant that we have little of value to thieves.”

  Adrian returned to his drink. “I didn’t say the roads were unsafe because of thieves, it is the wolves I was referring to.”

  Devin ordered a glass of wine and a bowl of stew, hoping his companion would continue…

  “How long have you been a bard?” Devin asked, after a long silence.

  “Five years,” Adrian replied. “I spent a year studying under Armand Vielle.”

  “A year?” Devin said in surprise.

  “Armand is a perfectionist. His apprentices cannot leave until he’s satisfied that they have learned Ombria’s stories and legends by heart,” Adrian replied.

  A year…Devin felt his plan dissolving before his eyes. What hope did he have of learning anything in just a month? This Armand Vielle would laugh in his face.

  A girl, a piece of striped toweling wrapped around her waist as an apron, brought Devin stew and bread.

  “Thank you,” Devin said, spooning up the thick broth dotted with mushrooms. “I’d like to hear Monsieur Vielle for myself.”

  “Well, storytelling is his first love,” Adrian replied. “He only takes on one new apprentice at a time so that he is free to tell the Chronicle publicly himself. He’s getting on in years. When he can no longer walk the roads of Ombria perhaps he will settle down and spend the rest of his days teaching.”

  One apprentice at a time, Devin thought, and what if Armand Vielle has already taken someone on this spring? Where would that leave him? Could he skip Ombria and move on to the next province hoping for better luck there?

  Adrian was looking at him strangely. “Is something the matter?”

  Devin shook his head, restraining the thoughts that had visibly troubled his face. “I’m wondering what we will do for lodging,” he said. “If the roads are truly unsafe, we need to find a place to stay the night.”

  Adrian hesitated, just a moment, before his face broke into a smile. “You know my parents own a little farm. It’s not much but there’s a barn attached to the house. You’d be welcome to sleep there.”

  “Thank you,” Devin said. “It isn’t as though we’ve any other options at the moment. You’re certain your father won’t mind?”

  Adrian laughed. “He threatened to sleep in the barn himself tonight. My mother and my aunts are driving him mad with the wedding preparations. ‘Two more days,’ I told him. ‘Two more days and you’ll have your peace again.’ He shook his head and said, ‘I’ll never last. I’ll be in an asylum by morning’.”

  Devin smiled. “If he’s at his wits’ end, I don’t want to trouble him further.”

  Adrian shook his head. “His bark is worse than his bite. He’ll be happy to help travelers in distress.”

  Devin knew he had only to mention his father’s name or produce the government chit, which he’d been given, to obtain a bed in the best house in the village. But he had no intention of using the influence available to him. He’d done his best to leave his identity behind him in Coreé.

  Adrian finished his drink while Devin sopped up the last bit of broth in his bowl with a crust of bread. The stew had been hearty and satisfying at the end of such a long day. He had only just realized how tired he was.

  “They’ll be expecting me at home. Do you think your friends are ready to leave yet?” Adrian asked.

  “I’ll go and see,” Devin said.

  He wove his way down to where Gaspard and Marcus sat and explained the arrangements he’d made.

  “A barn?” Gaspard protested. “God, Devin, couldn’t you do any better than that?”

  “Not tonight,” Devin assured him. “There is a big wedding the day after tomorrow. The inn is full and the townspeople are helping to put up the guests. It’s the best I could do.”

  Gaspard stood up, grumbling, but Marcus flicked a coin down angrily on the counter.

  “Your itinerary states that we will be staying here at the inn tonight. Should your father need to contact you, it’s important that you adhere to the route that you gave him.”

  “We’re not in Coreé, Marcus,” Devin said. “I’m sure my father realizes that itineraries are subject to change. There may even be times we have to sleep beside the road. Be glad we’ll have shelter tonight, even if it isn’t what I’d planned.”

  Adrian’s parents’ farm was located on the outskirts of town, at the edge of the forest. Loud conversation and laughter became audible through the pines even before they could see the lights streaming from the windows. They were welcomed into the midst of a noisy family gathering. The plain wooden table was laden with remnants of a huge meal, and Gaspard, Devin, and Marcus were invited to join them. Small children peered from below the table, their sticky fingers tangled in the fur of a mongrel dog.

  “We’ve just eaten at the inn,” Devin explained. “But thank you very much.”

  “The inn?” Adrian’s mother asked in mock horror. “I hope you won’t all be ill later. The cook mucks out his stable before he goes to work in the inn’s kitchen. I doubt he even washes his hands.”

  Devin laughed. “We had stew. It was really quite good.”

  One of Adrian’s aunts leaned forward, exposing her ample breasts above a low cut blouse. She winked coyly at Devin. “Where did you find this lovely young man, Adrian? Your friends are not usually so polite.”

  “Sit,” Adrian’s mother coaxed, pulling at Devin’s sleeve and patting the bench beside her. “Have some wine with us, at least.”

  Adrian drew them back toward the door.

  “They’re tired, Mother. They’ve been walking all day. Let them go and lie down.”

  “All right,” she conceded. “But have breakfast with us before you leave in the morning. Three more mouths to feed is nothing at all.”

  Devin thanked them and followed Adrian out into the night. The plump aunt giggled and called after them.

  “Adrian, did you tell him that you still have two unmarried sisters and a widowed aunt?”

  Adrian shook his head and closed the door, laughing.

  A full moon had risen, copper and huge, above the eastern horizon. Moonlight
silvered the bare tree branches and the peak of the barn roof. Every stone along the top of the wall glowed with reflected light. An owl hooted from the pines around the barn.

  Adrian took them up to the loft. He disturbed an old cat, lounging on a pile of grain sacks. He shook the sacks free of dust and spread them over the fragrant hay.

  “It’s not what you’re used to, I’m sure,” he apologized. “But you’ll sleep safely here till morning. Will you be warm enough? I fear blankets and quilts are in short supply tonight.”

  “We have blankets,” Devin said, unpacking his knapsack. “Thank you again. Your family is very hospitable.”

  Adrian smiled, pleased at the compliment. “If we weren’t housing most of our extended family, you’d have been given a place of honor by the fire for as long as you liked. I think Aunt Genevieve would see that you had the spot right next to her. But then, she’d be demanding you marry her by morning! Believe me you’re better off out here!”

  Devin laughed. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m much too tired for amorous trysts tonight.”

  Adrian grinned. “Goodnight then. Be certain to go down for breakfast. Mama will expect it.”

  Adrian made his way down the ladder, and a few minutes afterwards the house door slammed. The barn was quiet and peaceful. The moonlight streaming in through the loft’s open window lent a magical quality to the place.

  “I think this is very pleasant,” Devin said, plopping down on the nearest feed sack.

  “You would,” Gaspard remarked, sitting down gingerly beside him. “Remind me again, why it is that I ever agreed to accompany you to this god-forsaken place?”

  Devin grinned. “To escape your evil father.”

  Gaspard lay back on the hay with a satisfied grunt. “Ah, that’s it! I knew there had to be a good reason.”

  Marcus said nothing. He retrieved his blanket from his knapsack and lay down facing the wall. His stiff shoulders discouraged engaging him in any further conversation.

  It is amazing how quickly and deeply sleep comes to those who are physically exhausted. Devin had spent many nights studying for hours and then not been able to sleep. He assumed it was because his mind was still busy cataloging all the information he’d given it to retain. Tonight, with his feet and back aching from a full day of walking, he fell asleep with Gaspard still chattering next to him.