“Or Firekeeper him,” Lady Blysse said calmly.
“Oh.”
Elise was temporarily at a loss, but fortunately keeping the conversation going was not up to her.
“Firekeeper has an idea,” Citrine chattered. “She wants to meet the rest of the family, but she doesn't like banquets.”
“Who does?” Elise said with a pose of adult boredom.
Actually, she still found banquets fascinating, especially those attended by embassies from the neighboring kingdoms of New Kelvin and Waterland. The foreigners with their odd mannerisms and turns of phrase—for their initial colonies had not been from the same Old Country as Gildcrest—were infinitely interesting. A career in the diplomatic service was impossible for her, since she was destined to become the Baroness Archer and be responsible for the family estates, but back before she realized no little brother or sister was likely to follow and share the job, this had been her favorite dream.
“Wolves fight each other for their food,” Kenre added. “So Firekeeper thinks eating and talking at the same time is silly.”
“She has a point,” Elise laughed. “What is her idea?”
“Hunting with birds,” Lady Blysse said, her tone slightly miffed.
No wonder. Elise thought. Since we keep talking about her as if she's an idiot. Uncivilized she may be, but she's no idiot.
“Falconry,” Derian said in a tone Elise immediately recognized as that of a teacher reminding a student. Fleetingly she wondered how he came into the job.
“Falconry,” Lady Blysse repeated. “Hawking. We go. Me, some of nobles, on horses or walking. Hunt. Talk.”
Elise turned to her. “That's a good idea, actually. Most of the nobility of Hawk Haven are fascinated with falconry. I think it comes from the names King Chalmer gave the Great Houses to keep them from fussing when he married a commoner. Anyhow, it is easier to get to know people when you're not sitting around a table or trapped in a parlor.”
“Parlor?”
“A room for sitting,” Elise laughed.
“So many rooms,” Blysse mused. “Wolves have dens for pups. Nothing else. In winter, I use den for fire.”
Elise puzzled this out then nodded. “You would need shelter, wouldn't you?”
“No fur.” Blysse shrugged. “Cold.”
“But you had fire?”
Kenre interrupted. “That's why her name is Firekeeper. She could make fire, but none of the wolves could. They respected that.”
Elise glanced at Derian. “Did she really Uve with wolves?”
The redhead grinned. “She says so. Doc—excuse me—Sir Jared Surcliffe, Earl Kestrel's cousin, said that there's evidence of it. Firekeeper, show Lady Elise your scars.”
“All?” Blysse bared her teeth in a brief smile. “If so, then Derian get red.”
She thrust out one arm for Elise's inspection. Beneath the fine hairs, her skin was silvered with numerous tiny scars. A few larger ones testified to considerable injuries recovered from in the past.
“Little bites,” Blysse dismissed them, dropping her arm. “Also cuts. No fur. Only,” she poked at the material of her vest, “bad leather.”
“Badly tanned leather,” Derian clarified automatically. “Somehow Firekeeper figured out the basics, but while she could keep the leather from going completely stiff, the stuff wasn't good for much.”
Citrine and Kenre had dropped to the grass and were sitting in identical attitudes, arms wrapped around knees, their expressions glowing with interest and proprietary pride. Doubtless they saw the newcomer as their special discovery.
Elise shook out her shawl, spread it on the grass to protect her walking dress from stains, and joined them. Only once she was seated did Lady Blysse and Derian resume their seats on the ground.
“Now,” Elise said to the general company, “tell me what Lady Blysse has in mind.”
“I have falcon,” Blysse replied carefully, pointing to the magnificent blue-grey peregrine.
“So I see,” Elise agreed. “A peregrine, the emblem of the Wellward house—my mother's house.”
“Emblem?”
“Symbol,” Citrine said quickly. “It means the same thing, Firekeeper.”
Lady Blysse gave a gusty sigh and Elise couldn't blame her. From her own foreign-language lessons, those words that seemed to mean the same thing were the most annoying—especially when you later discovered the subtleties of difference.
“You fly peregrine?” Lady Blysse asked her.
“No,” Elise replied ruefully, “though my mother would be pleased if I did. I really don't fly anything these days. Our falconer keeps a little merlin for me. It's more his bird than mine. I don't fool myself.”
Derian eased into the flow of her speech so smoothly that he didn't seem to be interrupting.
“Mistress Citrine was telling Firekeeper about how people here fly their hawks. It gave Lady Blysse the idea of having her falcon, Elation, demonstrate her skill.”
Elise nodded. “That's a good idea. A few other birds could be flown in their own turn—not too many or they would get upset.”
She was out of her depth here and knew it. Falconry—with its bloody successes, the feeding the bird a bit of flesh or warm brains from the kill—had been something she had participated in only reluctantly. To avoid having to reveal her ignorance she turned to her young cousin.
“Citrine, who do you think would choose to go along if Lady Blysse offered to fly her hawk for them?”
“Everyone, I think,” Citrine said, momentarily more cynical than an eight-year-old should be. “Even those who don't like blood sport would want to go to get a look at Lady Blysse.”
“Good point,” Elise said, thinking that if a hawking party was arranged she would definitely see Jet again. She was certain he practiced the art. Perhaps he would fly his own bird, though more likely Sapphire would insist on the honor of representing their family.
“Maybe Opal and Ruby would stay home,” Citrine added after reflection. “They don't like getting dirty and even Mother doesn't see us Uttle girls having a chance at the throne. What about your sisters, Kenre?”
“Dia and Deste might want to stay home,” Kenre said honestly, “but Mama wouldn't let them. She has no patience with weak stomachs.”
He looked a Uttle forlorn as he said this, having recently graduated to an age where his mother no longer accepted weakness even in her baby boy. Lady Blysse nodded agreement with Zorana's policy.
“Weak die,” she said. “Strong Uve.”
Looking at Blysse, so confident in her own strength as she sprawled in the grass, an arm flung once more about her wolf, Elise wondered how her relatives would perceive the stranger when they came to know her better. Not all of them, shev thought mefiiliy, would be as fascinated as Citrine and Kenre. Most of them, in fact, would see her as a threat.
THE HAWKING EXPEDITION, when it set out a few days later, was somewhat smaller than Elise and Citrine had dreaded. Of the five children of Lord Rolfston and Lady Melina, the two middle girls, Ruby and Opal, were permitted to remain home. This might have encouraged Zorana to make similar allowances, for neither Deste nor Nydia were forced to attend.
Accompanied by Earl Kestrel, the host of this expedition, King Tedric rode near the front of the party, deep in discussion with his personal falconer about the condition of his magnificent golden eagle, a bird known to be temperamental. Tedric's absorption in this matter—or apparent absorption—effectively prohibited any member of the party from thrusting him or herself into his company.
Derian wondered cynically if this wasn't exactly what the old king had intended. Certainly Sapphire Shield—a stunning young woman who, with herflashingeyes and tendency to flare her nostrils, reminded him uncomfortably of the first horse ever to throw him—would like to remind her great-uncle of her presence. Her brother Jet, however, hardly seemed to notice the king. His attention was wholly on Lady Elise.
Elise looked even prettier than she had at their earlier meeti
ngs, Derian thought ruefully, her fair skin flushed pale rose and her golden hair glinting brighter than the light mesh net she had tucked around it. Her laughter reminded him of silver bells or the ringing of crystal goblets. It also reminded him that she didn't even know he existed.
Firekeeper was riding off to one flank on the same patient, if boring, grey gelding who had carried herfromWest Keep. Much to Derian's surprise, she had agreed to leave Blind Seer in the castle—on the condition that the wolf was not locked in. She hadn't liked leaving him, but she had to admit that the wolf still upset any horse but grey Patience, Roanne, and Race's Dusty. Since the hawking party had been her idea, Firekeeper would compromise to make it work.
That compromise hadn't extended to her agreeing to wear the riding frock Earl Kestrel had suggested, but she wasn't alone in finding skirts awkward for riding. Sapphire and Citrine both wore women-tailored breeches and pretty white blouses, similar to the outfit that Valet had mysteriously managed to procure for Firekeeper. Those worn by the Shield sisters were far more elaborate, embroidered with flowers and birds, perhaps the result of winter labor by the fireside.
Lady Elise had chosen a light gown similar, to Derian's masculine assessment, to the ones she had worn before but somehow subtly more attractive, a thing of pale lavender, laced tightly at the breast. Fleetingly, Derian wondered how well Elise's legs—long, he imagined—and rounded hips might shape up inridingbreeches and decided that she would probably look stunning.
The older women in the party—Aurella Wellward, Zorana Archer, and Melina Shield—also wore gowns and rode side-saddle. All but Zorana seemed to be treating this as a general outing. Zorana alone followed the preparation of the birds, pausing in her conversation with a weatherbeaten man who—for all his undeniable handsomeness—somehow reminded Derian of a rat.
From one of the grooms, he had learned that this was Prince Newell Shield, the widower of Princess Lovella, just returned from a voyage on Wings, theflagshipof the Hawk Haven Navy. Although Newell should have reverted to his Shield family title on the death of his wife, King Tedric had deemed it a courtesy to permit his son-in-law to retain the title he had assumed when Lovella had become crown princess.
A tough man, slightly older than his sister Melina, Newell had been an ideal match for the ambitious warrior princess. Although the couple had been childless, rumor said that this had not been for any lack of shared passion, rather because Lovelia did not wish to risk the illnesses suffered by her mother during pregnancy until her deeds were as legend.
Although no stories of sorcerous practice were told about Newell as were told about his sister, still,findingthe prince gazing at him with curious intensity, Derian felt a cool chill slide down his spine. Newell's pale gaze wasfixedyet somehow absent, and Derian found himself booting Roanne in the ribs to remove himself from the direct line of that stare.
Firekeeper rode over to join him, flushed with barely re-strained excitement. The falcon Elation sat—unhooded, unjessed, unrestrained in any way—on a perch rigged to the back of the grey's saddle. Only her occasional sardonic squawk as she surveyed her avian competition confirmed that a living bird was perched there, not a product of the taxidermist's art.
“Elation say,” Firekeeper commented as soon as they were close, “that men ahead with birds in cages.”
“That's for the hunt,” Derian said. “Earl Kestrel made the arrangements.”
“Hunt? Men?” Firekeeper looked troubled at this, as well she might. Derian had drammed into her that there were numerous ramifications—some vague and terrible, some con-crete and demonstrable—for even hurting a human, much less hunting one.,
“No, no,” Derian laughed. “The birds are to be hunted. This many people on horseback accompanied by attendants and grooms will scare every real piece of game off for miles.”
“Yes. Too many,” Firekeeper agreed.
“So when we are ready, the gamekeepers will release birds one at a time and the hawks will go after them.”
Firekeeper nodded, but he could tell that this was yet an-other bit of incomprehensible human behavior. Dismissing the mysteries of hunting already caged birds, Firekeeper quickly focused on the real reason for this gathering.
“How, Derian, how I talk with these here like I talk with Citrine and Kenre? How I do?”
He understood her puzzlement, for, unlike the children who had been eager to make her acquaintance, the elders, especially those who saw Lady Blysse as competition for the throne, had been studiously ignoring her. Their excuse, if they were challenged, would certainly be that a young, newly adopted ward of Earl Kestrel was not of their usual circle. They wouid claim that they were not so much ignoring her as they simply hadn't.thought her worth theirregard.They'd phrase it more politely, out of deference to Earl Kestrel, but that was what they'd mean.
Derian surveyed the gathering. Elise was too absorbed in the attentions of her handsome cousin to have any thought for Lady Blysse. A formal introduction, such as Earl Kestrel could gamer, would be a disaster. Then he noted that one pair of eyes, dark blue but amazingly clear, kept glancing toward Firekeeper. The expression in them was challenging, not kind. Still, Sapphire Shield's interest in Firekeeper was apparent.
Derian saluted Citrine and the Uttle girl rode over gladly, her little, round-bodied chestnut pony jogging over the turf with single-minded enthusiasm. When Citrine had come to greet Firekeeper at the beginning of the ride, Melina Shield had called her daughter away on some pretense and had kept her away since.
“M'lady,” Derian said in a respectful tone of voice he didn't bother with out in the meadows, “Lady Blysse would like to make the acquaintance of your elder sister Sapphire. Could you do us the honor of acting as liaison?”
Citrine giggled, then winked conspiratorially, keeping her back carefully turned on the adults. “I think I can get her over here. She's just itching to try Firekeeper—I mean Lady Blysse's—mettle.”
Whatever Citrine said to her sister must have been effective, for Sapphire rode over immediately. She made quite a picture in her blue hunting clothes, mounted on a horse whose coat had been dyed a shocking indigo blue—although the mane and tail had been left a silvery white. Sapphire rode well, with natural grace and a certain restlessness. Her every movement was accompanied by the ringing of miniature hawk bells twined into her hair and fastened to her sleeves.
Dangerous, Derian thought, assessing her critically. Tough and strong beneath all that hair and glitter. She sees some-thing of herself in Firekeeper and that scares her.
Introductions were made with punctilious correctness. Derian dropped back a few steps, near enough to be at hand if need arose, but effacing himself into servile invisibility. At first he had been bothered that this was so easy to do—especially before some of the more self-important nobles—but now he rather treasured the capacity, for it let him gather knowledge without anyone considering what he might do with it.
Sapphire dismissed formalities with a swiftness that re-minded Derian of Elation stooping on unsuspecting prey.
“So, Lady Blysse, my sister told me you think you're a wolf.”
Firekeeper shook her head sadly. “Am wolf-raised, not wolf get. Sometimes wish I was wolf.”
“Oh?” Sapphire's polished sneer didn't completely hide her curiosity. “Why would you wish that?”
“They what I know best,” Firekeeper responded, “and I cannot do what they do.”
Sapphire dismissed this revelation as of no importance, her attention shifting to Elation. The peregrine falcon studied her, impudence in her gold-ringed eyes, then made a strange churling sound, almost like a laugh.
“Is that a peregrine?”
“Yes.”
“It's rather large for a peregrine.” Sapphire sounded miffed. “I fly a gyrfalcon—my family's bird. Some are as large as eagles. Are you sure this isn't some deviant cross?”
“Is peregrine,” Firekeeper repeated. “Across mountain, animals get larger sometimes.”
D
erian noticed with some relief that Firekeeper did not attempt to explain to Sapphire her strange theory that there were two types of animals, the royal and the common. Sapphire would not take kindly to the thought that anything she possessed was common.
“I'll buy the peregrine from you,” Sapphire said. “It's a magnificent bird.”
“No.” Firekeeper's response was blunt but her expression was amused, not offended, “Elation is not to sell.”
Citrine deflected her sister's pique with a loud squeak of excitement. “We must be coming near the targets. Sapphire, I wonder if your gyrfalcon can outfly Lady Blysse's Elation?”
Derian didn't know whether he wanted to kick or kiss the little girl. He gave a mental shmg. The competition between the young women for a much bigger prize existed. Might as well have this lesser one out in the open as well.
ONCE JET ARRIVED, mounted on a fine black gelding with white stockings and a thin white blaze, Elise hardly noticed falcons, horses, or gathered people. He hovered by her side from the start of the ride, attentive as a declared lover. His first words, spoken almost in a whisper, made her heart beat uncomfortably fast:
“I've finally convinced my mother and father. They will speak with your parents today.”
The rest of their conversation was far more routine. Jet was interested in what Elise could tell him of Firekeeper and her wolf. He studied the other woman in a fashion that might have made Elise jealous if he hadn't just declared his intention to have his parents speak with hers about their marriage.
When the time came for the falcons to be loosed, Jet abandoned Elise to claim his own bird. It was a gyrfalcon, as was to be expected, its plumage as black as night. Elise played with the fancy that in the Redbriar-Shield establishment there were servants who had no other job than miming about seeking the best mounts, pets, jewels, clothing, and other accoutrements to maintain the theme that Melina Shield had begun with the naming of her brood. In wry afterthought Elise realized that this must indeed be the case and she treasured her own relative freedom of choice and action.
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