“Kings and earls,” he said, “are not the only ones interested in this matter of succession. Honest guild members have their concerns as well, as do factions outside our own kingdom.”
Derian nodded, having considered some of this himself but, frankly, having been too close to the concerns of his own earl to think much beyond that immediate focus.
“Yes, Father. There's much talk about a candidate for the throne born outside of our kingdom entirely—one Allister Seagleam of Bright Bay. I think, though, you have more than him in mind.”
Colby sipped his ale. “True, but let us start with this Allister Seagleam. There are many among the guilds who favor his candidacy above all others.”
“Above our native bom?” Derian asked, amazed.
“Not so long ago, a bare hundred years,” Colby reminded him, “we were one land, the remnants of the colony of Gild-crest. Before the Civil War, we were that colony itself. A hundred years is a long time, true, but not so much that one man cannot easily comprehend it.
“There are those,” the older man continued, “who tire of the constant war between Hawk Haven and Bright Bay, those who remember that King Chalmer meant Princess Caryl's marriage to a prince of our rival power to be a pledge for lasting peace among us.”
“That peace didn't last much beyond this Allister's birth,” Derian reminded his father sourly.
“I'm not denying that,” Colby said, “but still, that is the reason for which Allister was bom. Many say that since King Tedric's line cannot continue directly, this pledge child should be permitted his destiny. Some go so far as to say that this is why all three of King Tedric's own begetting have died before their father—to clear the way for our great ancestor's vision to come true.”
Derian stared at him. “Do you believe this, Father?”
Colby shrugged. “I don't know what to believe. There is sense in that way of seeing things, though, sense that many common folk understand. It doesn't hurt that Duke Allister is the son of the woman who would have been next in Une for the throne if she had remained in Hawk Haven. Nor was she ever disinherited, as Prince Barden was. Therefore, her family's claims are strong.”
“And if a member of Bright Bay's royal house took the throne of Hawk Haven,” Derian said slowly, “there might be an end to war between our lands.”
“Should be,” Colby agreed, “for there is no indication that Allister Seagleam is unfavored in his own land. They title him duke there and have given him lands like those of a scion of a Great House. Peace would be good for most of the trades. Farmers could live without the fear that their fields may be trampled or plundered by roaming soldiers. The guilds could enforce their standards more effectively. Even such as myself would gain great opportunities from seeing travel open up. Only those few who have made their livings in war would be unhappy, and even if Bright Bay and Hawk Haven were at peace there would not be an end to watchfulness.”
Derian frowned. “On other borders, you mean.”
“That's right. Up until now, those countries that share borders with ourselves and Bright Bay have been content to let us weaken ourselves by fighting each other. If we were reunited—as one kingdom or as allies through related monarchs—they would be less easy.”
“During past conflicts,” Derian said, remembering things Ox had told him, “Waterland has sent advisors and marines to supplement our own forces. This is not widely known, but a friend of mine who has served in the military told me about them. The reason given for their presence was training—that Waterland prefers to have some blooded troops among their companies.”
“I had heard something of the sort,” Colby agreed, “working as I do among traveling folk, tending their animals and gear. Did you know that Stonehold has made a similar agreement with Bright Bay? Ostensibly their reasoning is much the same as that given by Waterland, but I'll tell you, rulers don't worry so much about having blooded troops unless they anticipate a need to use them. Whether Bright Bay and Hawk Haven are reunited by conquest or by peaceful means, our neighbors see us as a possible threat.”
“Then is reuniting so wise?” Derian countered.
“The only alternative,” Colby replied soberly, “is continuing the cycle of war into uneasy peace and into war again. So it has been all my life and all my father's life. Two of my siblings died from this fighting, both in battles so small that I doubt any but those who won glory in them even re-member them, but my brothers died just the same. I begrudge the loss of a son to such circumstances—I even begrudge the death of a horse or ox if there is an alternative.”
Mention of the ox made Derian uncomfortably aware of his own Ox, who could have died quite easily despite all his great strength if one of the arrows that had scarred his broad hide had been luckier in finding its target.
“We need a strong monarch,” Derian said thoughtfully, “whether this Duke Allister or not. One who can lead us well in war and guide us in peace. Is there anyone among our noble families fit for that task?”
“Not your wolf-girl?” Colby said teasingly. “You've spoken warmly enough of her courage.”
“Courage and to spare,” Derian agreed, “but not necessarily wisdom, though that could be gained. But can she unite these jealous nobles behind her, even with King Tedric's support?”
“I don't know,” Colby said honestly. “All I can do is listen in the market, listen to my clients, listen to the travelers who cross the borders. Now that we are somewhat at peace with Bright Bay—more, I think, because they hope to win our kingdom through inheritance than because hostilities are ended—there are those who travel between the kingdoms once more.”
“Merchants, entertainers,” Derian said, thinking back to those he had met when working in his father's business, “tinkers, and simply the footloose—and any one of them might be a spy.”
“True,” Colby said, “but I watch my tongue. I'm but a simple livery stable owner, concerned with my horses and wagons. My wife's the brains of the operation—everyone knows that.”
They laughed together at the old joke. Colby was often underestimated, Vernita never. The arrangement suited them both nicely.
“I'll keep your words in mind, Father,” Derian said soberly. “And you take care. Some may learn you have a son in Kestrel service and think you more clever than you would wish.”
“I will,” Colby promised, “and you also take care. There will be those who will resent the kennel keeper of a new-minted noblewoman, especially one who looks suspiciously like she's becoming a princess.”
Derian nodded. Without further comment, they finished their ales, settled their score with the tavern keeper, and headed up the hill toward the castle. A few steps away from the gate, Colby gave Derian a bone-crushing hug.
“Come see us again soon, son. Bring your work with you if you'd like. Just don't be a stranger.”
“I won't,” Derian repeated, his heart lighter than before, though these new twists to the already complex political picture made his head swim.
He turned to watch his father walk down the lamplit streets into the city, then knocked on the iron-bound door. The porter opened it so quickly that Derian knew he'd been watching through his peephole.
“Good visit with the folks at home?”
“Good enough,” Derian said. “Wish I could have stayed longer.”
“I'm glad to have you back,” the porter said with anxious eagerness. “You're Lady Blysse Norwood's man, aren't you?”
“I am,” Derian agreed, wondering. He hadn't thought any of the servants knew him as yet.
“Is it true she keeps an enormous wolf as a pet?”
“She has a wolf with her, yes,” Derian answered, careful even in Firekeeper's absence not to refer to Blind Seer as a pet.
“And a falcon the size of an eagle, big enough 10 carry off a small child or a lamb?”
“She has a peregrine falcon of good size,” Derian answered, amused.
“Then I'm glad you're back,” the porter repeated. “Good to
know there's someone managing them all.”
Derian hid a grin, pleased enough with this sudden rise in status, but unwilling to let the man think he was mocking him.
“I'll just hurry up then and make certain they're all settled for bed,” Derian said politely.
“Good.” With a heavy thud of iron-bound oak, the porter swung the door shut after Derian. “First time I ever heard of locking the door to keep the wolf in,” he muttered.
Running up the wide, smooth stone stairs into the tower, Derian grinned.
X
WHEN ELISE HEARD footsteps coming up the garden path behind her, her heart leapt in her breast. Irrationally, stupidly, with an eagerness she felt was unworthy of the dignity of her seventeen years, she t”’ hoped it would be Jet. She hadn't seen him since he made his proposal two days before and the suspense had been unbearable. Although her initial impulse had been to blurt out everything to her mother, the few hours’ delay while waiting for Lady Aurella to return from the castle had shown Elise this would be unwise.
Aurella Wellward was a good mother. Since Elise was an only child, Aurella had spent much time with her rather than delegating the more routine matters of her daughter's up-bringing to a nursemaid as was more typical in noble houses. Mother and daughter had their disagreements, theirtimesof estrangement, but lately they had been quite close. Still, Aurella was too much a lady of the royal court to notfirstthink of the political maneuvering in Jet's proposal rather than the romantic possibilities.
And Elise so very much wanted to dwell on those romantic possibilities. This was herfirstmarriage proposal (and maybe her only) and Jet was very handsome. She wanted to dream of moonlight rides, of holding hands, of whispered confidences. That was why, even though the sound of two pairs of feet scampering up the graveled path could never be the measured tread of one set of masculine bootsfirmlystriding, her heart leapt and she turned with careful grace to meet…
Citrine Shield and Kenre Trueheart ran up, hands clasped, faces flushed. For a moment, Elise preserved the hope that Citrine bore a message from her older brother, but the girl's words dispelled even that fleeting fantasy.
“Cousin Elise!” she said. “Good morning! Your maid Ninette told us you had come to the castle early.”
“You're staying here, aren't you?” Elise said, bending to hug each of the children. An only child herself, she had al-ways doted on her younger cousins, viewing them as substitutes for the siblings she herself lacked. The little ones returned her affection openly, so openly that Sapphire had been known to comment cattily that Elise wouldn't like the brats nearly so much if she had to spend more time with them.
“We are,” Citrine said, “though Jet's gone riding with Father. Mother and Sapphire are attending upon the queen.”
Poor Mother, Elise thought. Lady Melina would be enough to set me off my breakfast.
Innocent in her romantic ideals, she didn't reflect that if she married Jet she would see Melina Shield far more often than at the occasional breakfast.
Kenre cut in, “My family's staying here too, but Purcel's out with his troops. I think he's bored.”
Elise nodded. “Are you bored too? Is that why you're out and about so early?”
“No,” Kenre said, “we're not bored. We've been visiting with the wolf-woman. She likes us.”
“Wolf-woman?” Elise asked, but even as the question was shaped she realized who Kenre must mean. Everyone had heard of the great grey wolf who followed Lady Blysse wherever she went—to the discomfort of every resident of the castle other than King Tedric. “That isn't a polite way to refer to Lady Blysse.”
“She likes it,” Citrine said. “She likes it better than Blysse. The second day we played with her she told us to call her Firekeeper. She said that's her real name, the name the wolves gave her when she was small.”
“Want to come meet her?” Kenre asked before Elise could voice any of the dozen questions that Citrine's speech had raised. “We thought you might when we saw Ninette in the corridor. Firekeeper's in the castle meadows.”
“How do you know?” Elise asked. “Did you make plans to meet her there?”
“Not really,” Citrine said. Grabbing Elise's hand, she pointed up into the sky. “See the bird, way up there? That's Firekeeper's peregrine falcon, Elation. They go out into the meadows in die morning before Earl Kestrel needs Firekeeper so that she can get some air and so BUnd Seer can run.”
Alowing herself to be towed along—after all, if Jet was out riding with Rolfston Redbriar he wasn't likely to come looking for her loitering among the roses—Elise asked:
“Blind Seer?”
“That's the wolf,” Kenre said. “Firekeeper calls him her brother. She gets really mad if you call him her pet. Derian said…”
“Derian? Who is that? Her horse?”
Citrine giggled. “Derian is her manservant. He's from the town. He was at the banquet: a tall man with red hair.”
Elise remembered this Derian now, a handsome enough commoner standing awkwardly behind Lady Blysse's chair, his face flushing dark red every time his charge made a particularly vigorous social gaffe.
The meadows were outside the castle walls, but Cousin Purcel had explained to Elise at great length how they were far more defensible than they might initialiy appear. It had something to do with the high cliffs rising behind the fields and the ravines—some natural, some otherwise—that flanked them. In a pinch, Purcel had told her with martial enthusiasm, a few trees could be felled, some pasturage burned to create a kill zone, and the woods and meadows would be almost as secure as the castle itself. This was one of the reasons that the Eagle's Nest was nearly impossible to take by siege. As long as the woods and water were accessible, the besieged could hold out indefinitely.
Every child knew how Queen Zorana had taken the castle by intrigue rather than by force, establishing herself once and forever as the dominant figure in the civil conflict.
A few steps outside of the arched doorway in the stone wall, Elise shook her hands free from the children's grasp. If she was going to meet a rival for the throne, she shouldn't look too undignified. A moment later, she learned that dignity-—at least in the way she had been taught to define it—wasn't a concern for Lady Blysse. When the three cousins entered the meadow, this youngest heir to the Great House of Norwood was sitting sprawled in a trampled patch of grass and wild flowers.
She was clad in brown leather breeches cut off just below the knee and a battered leather vest loosely buttoned over small breasts. One tanned arm was flung about the neck of an enormous grey wolf with startling blue eyes. Lady Blysse's face was bright with unguarded curiosity, but she showed no surprise, as if she had been given warning of their coming.
When Citrine and Kenre ran up to her, Blysse jumped to her feet, giving each child a rough but affectionate embrace. Then she looked toward Elise, her expression less open.
“Who that?” she asked.
“This is our best cousin,” Citrine said, inadvertently warming Elise's heart, “Lady Elise Archer, heir to the House of Archer. Her father is Kenre's mother's brother.”
“Best is good,” Blysse replied. Turning to Elise, she offered her an awkward bow after the masculine fashion.
Initially shocked, Elise immediately realized that a curtsy performed in trousers would look quite silly. Indeed, with her dark hair drawn back in a short queue, man-fashion, her bare feet, and her small, neat figure, Blysse looked more like a delicately featured lad than a girl of fifteen.
Elise returned the greeting with a curtsy, only then acknowledging the red-haired man who had scrambled to his feet at her entry. Derian Carter, she thought, had potential to be quite handsome when he grew into perfect comfort with his young man's body. He was attractive even now with his clear hazel-green eyes and fair skin; his hair was auburn rather than carroty.
Derian's bearing was respectful without being groveling, so that Elise found herself returning his bow as she would to an equal rather than to a servant
. Somehow, she realized when she turned her attention to Lady Blysse, this had done her no harm in the newcomer's opinion.
“Firekeeper,” Citrine was saying happily, “did you catch anything this morning?”
“Rabbits” was the solemn response, “three, but Blind Seer ate them all. He likes his meat blood-warm, but still eats what Ox brings him. I tell him he get too big.”
“Fat,” Citrine said bossily. Elise caught her breath at this mdeness, but something in Blysse's bearing told her that language lessons must have been a regular part of these meetings.
“Fat,” Lady Blysse repeated, then tilted her head to one side. “Why fat? Derian say fat is white part of meat.”
Derian spoke for thefirsttime. Elise was delighted to hear that his voice was a pleasant, measured baritone with only a trace of a lower-class accent.
“Fat in meat makes big,” he explained, frowning slightly as he tried to keep his words simple. His eyes twinkled as he added, “If we cut Blind Seer open, his meat would have much white.”
Lady Blysse laughed at this, punching the wolf hard on one shoulder as if the animal had understood the joke. From a tree branch overhead, the peregrine falcon shrieked.
Feeling a bit left out, Elise essayed, “Does Earl Kestrel know you come out here to hunt?”
“He know,” Blysse responded. “Not like when first.”
Derian clarified, “Earl Kestrel was not delighted the first time his ward came out here without his express permission. I had been permitted to visit my parents in town, so Fire-keeper was on her own. However, he has had to acknowledge that you can't keep a wolf walled up without the furniture taking considerable damage.”
“Couldn't the wolf,” Elise hazarded what many had stated openly, “be put in the kennels?”
Derian laughed. “The dogs would go mad. Our scout had a bird dog with him on our journey west through the gap. I don't think poor Queenie stopped cringing for a moment—and that was even before BUnd Seer started traveling in our company. In any case, I don't think you could get him to leave Firekeeper.”
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