Wolf's Eyes

by Jane Lindskold

  “But perhaps you are right, Aurella,” Rosene said. “Perhaps it is too much like a storytelier's romance to believe that an old king would shed his barren wife to father a son on a common girl young enough to be his granddaughter. What other use might he have for her?”

  “He could,” said Aksel Trueheart, “mean to use her to learn our own closest wishes.”

  Lady Zorana's husband spoke hesitantly, as if uncertain precisely how to phrase his thoughts. Although he was a handsome man and strong, no one held any illusions who was the dominant partner in this marriage. Some went so far as to jest that Zorana married Aksel simply as a properly pedigreed stud for her brood. Elise, who had often found Uncle Aksel in the castle library poring over old parchments from the days before the Plague, knew him to be more, a self-taught scholar and a bit of a poet.

  “Our closest wishes?” Zorana said, her tones no gentler than her mother's. “What do you mean?”

  “Forget I said anything,” Aksel replied. “A fleeting thought, one I must consider further.”

  Grand Duchess Rosene, however, would not let the point drop.

  “I believe I seized the heel of your thought as it fled, sonin-law,” she said. “Think, fools! What better thing to bring us all behind one candidate than to threaten us with a new player whom we desire less? Haven't we all said that we would rather see Rolfston Redbriar crowned king than have Allister Seagleam of Bright Bay elevated above us?”

  Murmurs of agreement answered her. The grand duchess continued, setting her cup and saucer down with a rattle as her hands suddenly trembled with excitement.

  “Now Tedric has in his own castle one who he can use in much the same fashion without raising the hopes of those who would see a scion of our enemies on the throne!”

  “That must be it, Mother!” Ivon agreed. “Blysse Norwood can serve as King Tedric's prod, a reminder of what we get if we do not dance to his tune. My guess is that soon enough we will hear hints of who is her best ‘rival’ for the throne.”

  “And if we still resist,” Zorana asked, her question less a question than the voicing of a fear, “will he make this new-comer queen simply to spite us?”

  “That,” Grand Duchess Rosene said, “is completely within the reach of my brother's perversity. I would not tempt him to try it.”

  “And,” added Aksel Trueheart, heartened some by the grand duchess's expansion on his vague idea, “the girl could still be useful to him, even if he does not name her crown princess. He could offer her in marriage to someone—perhaps to his heir, if the heir was unwed, perhaps to the heir's heir, if that one was male and unwed.”

  “Like our son, Purcel,” said Zorana thoughtfully. “Yes. Even if Blysse is never officially named Prince Barden's daughter, some trace of his noble aura will cling to her. There will always be those who will respect her as an unacknowledged daughter of the royal house.”

  Elise noted with a small smile how Aunt Zorana had shown that her house, rather than her brother's, would be best suited to win the king's favor. She didn't doubt that, beneath his apparent vagueness, Uncle Aksel had entertained similar thoughts.

  Certainly, her own father and mother didn't look terribly pleased. Their only child was a daughter, unsuited for a match with the newcomer.

  “Would the king,” said Ivon, trying to salvage what was beginning to look like a bad situation, “elevate an unknown woman—quite possibly not born from one of the Great Houses—to such heights?”

  “Don't be an idiot,” Grand Duchess Rosene said impatiently. “If we can seriously consider Tedric capable of making her queen in her own right, certainly we can consider him elevating her to queen by marriage. My dear husband Purcel was common born—though’ proven hero. My own mother, Queen Rose, was not born of a Great House. My father, King Chalmer, married for love, quite against the wishes of his advisors.”

  “And that's what worries me the most,” Rosene continued after a thoughtful pause. “My brother has ample examples from our own immediate history of kings acting against what their advisors wish.”

  “Then this time,” Zorana put in fiercely, “we must make certain that the king does nothing of the sort.”

  There was that in her aunt's tone that made Elise shudder and hope that Lady Blysse, now housed somewhere within the castle's walls, locked her doors securely.

  EARL KESTREL's PARTY was given rooms within the section of the castle normally reserved for the king's im-mediate family. Since the death of Princess Lovella two years before, this wing had been largely vacant and that vacancy was ostensibly the reason for Kestrel's party being housed there. Firekeeper could see that Earl Kestrel was delighted by this mark of favor.

  “The tower in which your rooms will be,” the silver-haired steward explained to the earl, “is furnished with its own door out into the castle grounds. The king said that all your party is to have freedom of the parks and gardens.”

  Earl Kestrel nodded. “That is thoughtful of His Majesty. My ward is not accustomed to remaining indoors all the time.”

  The steward managed a dry smile. “The king expressed confidence that Lady Blysse would be able to control her pet if she took him with her into public areas.”

  Firekeeper decided that the time had come to speak for herself.

  “Blind Seer not a pet.”

  Derian put a hand on her arm.

  “Firekeeper,” he warned.

  “Well, isn't,” she persisted.

  Derian shrugged and made some explanation to Steward Silver, using language so complicated that Firekeeper could only catch the gist of his argument. She did learn, however, that the falcon Elation would be welcome at the castle and so went to sleep well content.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Derian was nowhere about.

  “Earl Kestrel,” Ox explained to Firekeeper, “let him go visit his family. His parents.”

  Ox always spoke carefully, pausing between each word as if she was stupid, not merely ignorant of the language. Firekeeper recognized the essential kindness in the big man, however, and didn't challenge him. When Ox was summoned to wait upon the earl, she sought out Elation. The falcon rested on a perch near a window, watching the little birds outside from sardonic golden-rimmed eyes.

  “I wondered how long it would take you to wake up,” Elation shrilled.

  “Why wake?” Firekeeper replied, scratching behind one of BUnd Seer's ears. “There is nothing for me to do. They bring me my food, so I need not hunt. For the first time I can remember, I am warm and fed.”

  Blind Seer huffed out through his nose. “We fed you!”

  “After the strong had eaten,” she retorted. “Sometimes there was little enough for me.”

  “Little enough for any,” he replied, “when the strong are finished. That is why only the strong survive.”

  “I have survived,” Firekeeper said, “so I must be strong.”

  But despite the bravado in those words, there was a singular lack of enthusiasm within her heart. Perhaps Elation heard this dullness, for she shrieked.

  “So, eat and grow fat. That is all you wish?”

  “Is there else?” Firekeeper challenged without much heat.

  “You came away from your pack to learn about the two-legs,” Elation replied. “What have you learned?”

  “That the world is far bigger than even the Ones imagine,” Firekeeper said. “That I can talk human talk after a fashion, but that I fear I shall never be more than a pup among them, even as I have ever been a pup among the wolves.”

  “And have you acted as other than a pup?” Elation prodded, her beak gaping in mocking laughter. “Have you done other than pad about after your nurse, eating his leavings as if summer will never end? Take care, wolfling, summer may end and leave you within a trap.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After last night's rumpus, more than Earl Kestrel know that you live. Remember, I understand human speech better than you do, for those who were my masters one brief season often spoke of weighty matters
while they rode with falcons on their gloves. If you are not to be chased hither and yon like a rabbit beneath the falcon's circling flight, then you must make yourself a place within this aerie.”

  Firekeeper straightened, some vague sense of purpose licking tongues of fire in her soul.

  “Do you think I can?” she asked, almost timidly.

  “‘Do you think I can?’ “the falcon mimicked cruelly. “I think you must and from this very moment forward. Your nurse is away. You can act withoutriskingthat Earl Kestrel's wrath will descend on him.”

  “I have worried about such,” Firekeeper admitted. “My missteps seem to bring blows to Derian's head, not mine.”

  “So I have observed,” Elation said smugly. “It is well to protect an ally but not when that protection weakens your-self.”

  “What,” interjected Blind Seer, “would you have Firekeeper do? Somehow I don't think that challenging their One would do her any favors. From what Derian has told us, this is not the way to earn prestige among these two-legged folk.”

  “It is not,” the falcon agreed. “Let me think.”

  She did so, raising a leg to nibble on the wickedly curving talons of one foot, preening her feathers, chortling and chuckling softly to herself in falcon speech.

  “I,” Elation announced at last, “shall provide you with the means to meet more equally with those whom you must come to know. Here they consider hunting with raptors—especially the great birds such as myself—a sport reserved for noble folk. We three shall go out into the gardens and I will fly for you as once I flew for my human master.”

  “What good will that do Firekeeper?” Blind Seer asked dubiously.

  “Humans are as curious as raccoons,” Elation replied. “Some will come to learn what is happening, younger ones, I suspect, who do not have so much dignity to preserve. Firekeeper can impress them and they in turn will tell their elders that she is not merely a toy.”

  “Your idea might serve,” Firekeeper said thoughtfully, “and certainly sitting in this room does us no good.”

  “I would,” Blind Seer admitted, “like to be outside in the sun again. My patience with cold stone rooms is near ended. Had I loved you less, sweet Firekeeper, I would not have borne them this long.”

  “Then we are settled,” Firekeeper declared.

  So it was that when Earl Kestrel came looking for his ward after his breakfast had been eaten and his plans for the day were neatly in place, he found the young woman gone and the door out into the castle grounds standing open before him.

  ALTHOUGH A CITY had grown up around it, the castle at Eagle's Nest showed remnants of the days when it had been constructed as a fortification that could, in an emergency, take within its walls all the surrounding population and their flocks and herds as well.

  Those days were long past, but not because either the castle or its grounds had grown smaller/Indeed, the descendants of Queen Zorana had jealously guarded their property rights, holding on to not only the gardens, workshops, and stables within the fortified walls but to the surrounding acreage as well. Most of this flowed behind and above the castle, rough land, not well suited for cultivation, but perfect for game parks and meadows.

  To one of these lower meadows was where Elation led Firekeeper and Blind Seer, soaring time and again from a padded perch on the young woman's shoulder to check which of the winding paths they should follow. After the coolness within the building, the summer sunshine was wel-come indeed. Butterflies congregated around neatly ranked beds of flowers and songbirds nested in trees crowded with ripening fruit. Passage of the three predators caused more than a little consternation, though not one raised hand, paw, or talon to hunt.

  “Through that gate,” the falcon directed, “beneath the grey stone arch. Step lively, wingless!”

  Firekeeper laughed and began to run, forcing the bird to take flight quickly and without great grace. Blind Seer bounded alongside, leaping and almost catching the peregrine by her tail feathers. Once through the gate, they found themselves in a meadow yellow and white with wild flowers, thick with green grass yet unmowed and unbrowned by the greater heat of late summer.

  Firekeeper dove into it as she might have into a deep pool, rolling neatly on one shoulder and bounding to her feet without a pause. Around and around her, in spiraling circles, Blind Seer ran, stretching muscles stiff and achingfromconfinement indoors. He started a rabbit and gave chase, but let it escape since he was not really hungry.

  Wolf and woman played in this fashion for some time before a shriek from Elation alerted them to the approach of strangers.

  There were two: a male and a female. Neither were adults, of that Firekeeper was certain. She was less certain about their actual ages. Derian had made some effort to educate her on this matter, using as models the few children at the keep and a few others glimpsed along the road or from the windows of the Kestrel manse. After some consideration, Firekeeper decided that the boy was the younger, more from how he deferred to his playmate than from anything else.

  That the two had not expected to find anyone else here was obvious from the way they paused beneath the gateway arch. That they were curious was evident from how they stood, hand clasped in hand, staring.

  “I wouldn't swear it,” BUnd Seer said, plopping on his haunches next to Firekeeper, “but they smell familiar. Could they have been among the pack yesterday?”

  Firekeeper tilted her head to one side, studying the pair. After a moment, she nodded, a human gesture that was be-coming habit with her.

  “Yes, I think so,” she replied. “They were the two who laughed hardest during the meal. I think they thought my manner of eating amusing.”

  This last was not something about which she was particularly happy. She had been rather pleased with her progress in human customs. The mockery of these small ones—and the better-concealed reactions of their elders—had proven to her that she still had much to learn..

  “Talk with them!” the falcon urged from a perch high in a peach tree. “From what I can see, none of their elders are about. You may learn something here.”

  Firekeeper nodded, swallowed past a sudden hard spot in her throat, and managed a soft “Hello. Good morning.”

  Girl and boy exchanged glances. Then the girl stepped a pace forward.

  “Good morning. What are you doing in our great-uncle's garden?”

  Firekeeper frowned. “Running. The castle is very cold.”

  The girl took another step forward, her apprehensive gaze on BUnd Seer rather than on Firekeeper. She was solidly built, but not heavy, with chubby cheeks and red hair high-lighted with gold. In the center of her forehead a dark reddish-orange stone glimmered, set in a band of woven gold. Firekeeper hadn't seen enough of humans to decide if the girl would be judged pretty, but suspected that she was as yet too gawky, too young to be considered so.

  Pulling straight the skirt of her mid-calf-length flowered frock, the girl continued her interrogation:

  “But do you have permission to be here? These are the king's gardens.”

  Even Firekeeper could hear the pride in the girl's voice as she said these words, but the wolf thought it a pardonable pride given the importance humans placed on kings.

  “I do,” she replied. “King Tedric told me last night, when he asked us to stay at the castle.”

  “Asked you?” began the girl, but the boy interrupted, hurrying forward to tug one of her puffed sleeves.

  “Don't you get it, Citrine?” he hissed in what Firekeeper guessed were meant to be hushed tones. “This is Earl Kestrel's ward. This is Blysse!”

  “Oh, Kenre!” Citrine protested, looked again, then frowned. “Oh!”

  “I am called Blysse,” Firekeeper confirmed. “What are you called?”

  “I,” said the girl, “am Citrine Shield.”

  “I'm Kenre,” the boy said. “Kenre Trueheart. Is that your dog?”

  “Wolf,” Firekeeper answered. “Blind Seer, because he have blue eyes.”

 
; “They are!” the boy said, leaning forward to look, but not closing with the wolf. Firekeeper respected him for his prudence.

  Kenre Trueheart was as sturdily built as Citrine, perhaps given slightly to fat where she was not. With his soft light brown hair and big brown eyes, his body all quivering with excitement, he reminded Firekeeper, not unkindly, of a baby rabbit.

  “I didn't know wolves ever had blue eyes,” Kenre said.

  “Most do not,” Firekeeper answered, feeling a certain thrill. She was actually talking to humans on her own, without Derian there to intercede or clarify!

  The little girl, Citrine, pushed her way through the tall grass. As she came closer, Firekeeper caught her scent, a mingling of soap and flowers, overlaid with the bacon and bread from her breakfast.

  “Can I pat him?” she asked, gesturing to Blind Seer.

  Firekeeper tilted her head, considering. “He bites.”

  “Oh! And Earl Kestrel lets you keep him?”

  “Blind Seer stay with me,” Firekeeper replied, avoiding the awkward issue of permission. “So does falcon.”

  She raised her forearm, encased from hand to elbow in a heavy falconer's glove that Race had bought for her along the road from West Keep to Eagle's Nest. With a showy screech, Elation launched from the peach tree's branches, spiraled upward, then plummeted down to land with deceptive gentleness on Firekeeper's glove. Even so, Firekeeper had to steady herself against the weight of that landing. Elation was to the average peregrine falcon what Blind Seer was to Cousin wolves—bigger, stronger, and far wiser.

  Kenre and Citrine both scampered back at the falcon's descent, but curiosity brought them forward almost immediately. Skirting the wolf, they stared up at the falcon, who obliged by intelligently returning their regard.

  “It looks like a peregrine,” Kenre said hesitantly, “but bigger than any in my father's aeries.”

  “Kenre's father is a Merlin,” Citrine said, confusing Firekeeper to no end. “My father is a Goshawk, though my mother is a Gyrfalcon.”