Wolf's Eyes

by Jane Lindskold

  The two gyrfalcons, Blysse's peregrine, and King Tedric's eagle were the only birds being flown today. Initially, Elise had been surprised that Aunt Zorana, normally so competitive, had not insisted on someone from her family taking part. The Trueheart bird, however, was the merlin, a small, comparatively delicate hawk, not known for succeeding with prey the size of the game being taken today. The Archer family, not being one of the Great Houses, did not have a bird of its own so Zorana could not choose that as an alter-native.

  Purcel and Kenre were both in attendance, the older brother on his big, heavily muscled bay, one of his hands unobtrusively holding the lead rein for Kenre's sorrel pony. Despite the years between them and Purcel's frequent absences, strong affection remained between the two brothers.

  Elise brought her own mount alongside her mother's when the first of the pigeons was released.

  “Tell me,” she said softly, “if the falcon hits or not so I can applaud.”

  “Squeamish, dear?”

  “A little,” Elise admitted.

  “The other young people are getting on quite well,” Aurella said, nothing in her voice giving away her awareness that something like this must have been the entire reason for the outing. “They're over there, arguing about the merits of the different birds. Even King Tedric has joined them. A shame you've chosen to be one of those who stands by and claps for the other's successes.”

  “I choose,” Elise said with a slight mysterious smile, “to fly birds other than falcons.”

  Aurella's smile was all too knowing. “Earl Kestrel mentioned that his son Edlin is coming up from their lands in ten days or so. Now that he has reached his majority, young Lord Kestrel has moreresponsibilitieson the Norwood estates, especially with his father playing politics in the capital. As I recall, you always did like Edlin Norwood, didn't you?”

  Elise had fancied Edlin once, actually, but now she couldn't see last winter'sflirtationin her new hopes for Jet. Thankfully, Aurella didn't press, for the heir to a Great House was a far finer catch than a second son of a mere lord. Then the first of the pigeons was freed and no one had attention for anything but the sky.

  With a few strokes of her powerful wings, the peregrine Elation mounted into the sky, soared until she was little more than a dot against the blue. The gathered falconers stirred nervously, waiting for Lady Blysse to signal for the pigeon to be released.

  “The bird'11fleewith the wind,” Elise heard someone mutter. “What's that fool girl playing at?”

  When the tension was at its highest, Lady Blysse dropped her hand. The pigeon handlers, concealed in a blind some distance from the party as a whole, loosed a panicked bird. It surged toward the sky, wings beating in a desperate race for freedom.

  Does it know? Elise wondered wildly.

  Then there was a streak from above: the peregrine dropped in a perfect stoop, all the killing force of its descent hitting the pigeon soundly. The explosion of feathers was like a sudden snowfall. As with falling snow, there was no sound.

  Then, though Blysse waved no lure, made no call, Elation left her kill, fluttering from the grass to land on Blysse's outstretched glove. Her talons showed a slight line of red, a bit of down. An astonished gamekeeper reported that the falcon had taken not even a morsel from the pigeon.

  Watching from just outside the circle, Elise found herself thinking that the rapport between bird and woman was almost supernatural. Apparently she was not the only one to think this. Murmurs of surprise, respect, and apprehension reached her ears. Even the horses seemed edgy.

  Elation didn't help matters by turning her head to look at Blysse out of one gold-rimmed eye, her shrill mewling cries sounding too conversational for comfort. When woman nodded as if in reply, the enormous peregrine launched skyward again. Flying beyond where the fowlers crouched with their cages, Elation circled, orienting on some prey invisible to those on the ground, then stooped.

  When Elation rose again, her wings were beating heavily, laboring to raise not only herself but a large buck rabbit. With remarkable ease she carried her heavy burden over to Blysse, dropping it on the ground at the young woman's feet before returning to the glove and beginning to ostentatiously preen.

  Not to be outdone by the Lady Blysse and Elation, Sapphire and Jet put their heads together, dark curls intertwining like their whispered words. When brother and sister came out of their conference they were both grinning a bit wickedly.

  “We'll fly our gyrfalcons together,” Sapphire announced to the gathering in general, though her eyes were on Blysse alone.

  “Two birds,” Lady Blysse nodded understanding. “Two pigeons?”

  Sapphire agreed, adding airily, “A shame we don't have anything larger for them to go after—a heron, perhaps. Ah, well. Pigeons will have to do.”

  Unlike Blysse's unceremonious flying of Elation, there was quite a bit of fuss involved in preparing the gyrfalcons: hoods to be loosened, jesses attended to, the birds themselves to be soothed when they found themselves at the center of a crowd.

  Sapphire's female was not blue—gyrfalcons were not feathered in blue and no temperamental raptor would submit to being dyed. Still, the bird was elegant and unusual—pure white with searching yellow eyes. Her eagerness to be away was signaled in how she shifted from foot to foot on her mistress's glove. Jet's black gyrkin was smaller and quieter, but more intense, its gaze already fixed on the sky as if it knew in advance where the prey would appear.

  Gyrfalcons differed from peregrines in many significant ways. They were fluffier, seeming bulky, almost fat. Within those thick feathers, their heads seemed too small. The taloned feet they concealed beneath long belly feathers had shorter toes. Yet, though they lacked the peregrine's sleek elegance, they were magnificent birds, huge and haughty. Elise had heard that in some countries gyrfalcons were reserved for kings, a thing she suspected Sapphire also knew, given the pride with which she bore her bird.

  Catching sight of Lady Blysse's peregrine, the white gyr-falcon shrieked defiance and rage, echoed a heartbeat behind by the black gyrkin. Sapphire commented with conversational coolness that didn't fool Elise a bit:

  “Gyrfalcons have been known to kill other falcons—even eagles.”

  Lady Blysse replied calmly, “They not kill Elation. Fly your birds.”

  At the agreed upon signal, Jet and Sapphire released their birds. Black and white, like shadow and reflection, they soared upward, wings beating in fast yet steady strokes until they were above their prey. They soared for a moment, then plunged.

  The pigeons didn't have a chance. Hating herself for her squeamishness, Elise turned away at the critical moment, hoping that Jet wouldn't notice.

  On the next round, King Tedric's eagle refused to fly at the pigeon, offended perhaps by the indignity of being presented with captive prey, perhaps by the commotion all around. The monarch was not at all discomfited. He stroked the eagle's golden brown feathers as he re-hooded it and returned it to the fowler.

  “Sometimes,” Tedric commented, his gaze almost too non-specific, “being king means accepting that sometimes things will not go your way.”

  Elise felt a surge of relief for the soft grey pigeon that had winged its way to the safety of the nearest wooded copse. That relief vanished when she heard Sapphire say in a too sweet tone of voice:

  “Lady Blysse, did I hear correctly when you said that you believed that your peregrine could outfly our gyrfalcons?”

  Blysse looked momentarily confused, then she said, her voice taut and hard: “Yes.”

  “Would you be interested in wagering your bird on that belief?”

  This time Blysse must turn to Derian for a translation. It took a few moments, during which time Elise noticed Earl Kestrel making his way toward his ward. She was touched by his concern for the girl, but his words when he spoke were ambiguous.

  “Dear Blysse, don't do anything foolish.”

  The look Blysse gave him was far less respectful than those Elise had seen her turn on Der
ian and she wondered for the first time if Blysse particularly liked her guardian.

  Blysse's response was as much to Sapphire as to the earl.

  “Is not foolish if is certain.”

  “Then you accept our wager?” Jet cut in.

  The wolf-woman bared her teeth in an expression too vicious to be taken for a smile.

  “What is wager if you give me nothing when I win?”

  “Win?” Jet barked a hard, harsh laugh. “You tempt the ancestors, Lady Blysse, assuming success.”

  “What I get?” was the only reply.

  “What do you want?”

  “Your birds fly after my bird,” Blysse said carefully. “Yes?”

  “That's the basic idea,” Jet sneered.

  “If they catch my bird, my bird maybe die, maybe be hurt.”

  “Yes,” Jet's tone had become impatient.

  “What if my bird catch your birds?”

  “Impossible!”

  “What if?”

  “There are two of our gyrfalcons to your one peregrine!”

  Blysse shrugged as if to say “So?”

  “Will you, my Lord Jet,” came the calm, neutral voice of Derian Carter, “be willing to accept the loss of your gyrfalcons to the Lady Blysse?”

  Blysse nodded, indicating that the translator's words spoke her intention.

  Another voice, dry and passionless, yet somehow full of laughter, spoke for the first time:

  “It only seems fair.”

  Heads swiveled to learn who had spoken, but Elise didn't need to look to see that Prince Newell, the widower of the Princess Lovella, was responsible for the comment. When she was very small, she had learned to know that voice and to fear the malice concealed behind its seemingly innocent pronouncements.

  Sapphire colored and Jet nodded stiffly. Earl Kestrel interceded then, though the flush on his bearded cheeks made amply clear that he was less than delighted with the situation.

  “Then it is decided,” Earl Kestrel said. “The gyrfalcons will be released first to give them a moment to gain height. Then Lady Blysse will release her peregrine.”

  He ended his speech with a quick, angry slash of his hand. Accepting this as the signal, first Jet, then Sapphire released their gyrfalcons. Lady Blysse permitted them enoughtimeto climb to a comfortable rise of air where they soared in easy arrogance. Any bulkiness the gyrfalcons had shown when imprisoned on gloves was gone.

  At a word from her mistress, the peregrine Elation mounted the air. Sharp, almost knife-edged wings beat rapidly, alerting the gyrfalcons, which shrieked, infuriated by the intruder's arrogance. They circled for position while Elation was still gaining altitude. Elise felt her heart beating faster, certain that in a moment the sleek blue-grey peregrine would be nothing but a bloody burst of feathers.

  It's like us! she thought frantically. Hunting each other, seeking any advantage!

  Where she had been able to turn away before, she could not now draw her gaze from the sky. The three hawks were well matched in size, but the gyrfalcons had the advantage. Or did they?

  Elise watched in astonishment as Elation launched through the gap between the black bird and the white, slipping through an opening so small that the maneuver seemed impossible. Then, wings cutting the air like knives, Elation rose, stooped, and from the power of that stoop came down onto the white gyrfalcon.

  Stunned, the white gyrfalcon tumbled in the air, falling, rolling, recovering only inches from the dirt. Even then, all it could manage was to spread its wings, slowing its fall before coming to land with an undignified thud.

  Her attention diverted by the falling bird, Elise didn't see how Elation got the better of the black gyrkin, but afterward she would hear that the tactics were similar. The gyrkin came to earth much as its mate had done. It didn't so much strike the ground as land with a sulk, its dignity insulted. Glancing at the two Shield siblings, Elise saw its mood mirrored in their two faces, but where the falcons were merely offended, Sapphire and Jet were shamed.

  “Magnificent!” Prince Newell's voice broke the sudden silence. “Lady Blysse, my congratulations!”

  Similar compliments followed from the various spectators, but Lady Blysse had eyes only for her two competitors. Waving to them, she invited them to inspect their gyrfalcons. Within a few moments, the verdict was passed that Elation had taken them out with the weight of her body rather than with her talons. Except for a few braises and offended dignity at finding themselves the prey rather than the predator, both gyrfalcons should be fit for service.

  “They're yours now,” Sapphire said, anger and embarrassment barely concealed in her polite words. “I hope you enjoy them.”

  “I enjoy them best,” Lady Blysse replied, “if you keep them. They fine falcons. Maybe we hunt with them again sometime.”

  Jet started to smile, then tensed, fearful that this was some further mockery. Elise felt her heart ache for his injured pride.

  “We wagered them,” Jet said stiffly. “We can pay our debts.”

  “What is mine is mine to give,” Lady Blysse said reason-ably. “Please take.”

  “As a favor,” Sapphire said, “to a scion of House Kestrel, we will do so.”

  With this, to Elise'srelief,the expedition wasfinallyover. The bloody carcasses of the unlucky pigeons were gathered into sacks and Earl Kestrel bowed deeply to the assembled company. In his rich, well-schooled bardic turns of phrase he thanked them all for gracing himself and his ward with their company, praised the falcons that had provided them with such fine sport, and invited them all to attend a banquet that evening. The centerpiece would be the game killed this morning.

  The last was a formality, an almostritualending to a large hawking party like this, so much so that Elise had already chosen what dress and jewels she would wear this evening. She looked around for Jet, hoping that now that the hunt was ended he would return to her. Her beloved, however, was deep in conference with Lady Blysse and Sapphire, hotly arguing the varying merits of gyrfalcons and peregrines.

  Elise's mare was more than willing to trail after the other horses. Although her thoughts were elsewhere, Elise chattered lightly with the other ladies, commenting on the pleasures of the outing. Only after they had returned their horses to the stable attendants and were re-entering the castle did Aurella Wellward say softly into her daughter's ear:

  “Lady Melina spoke with me this afternoon about some-thing that may be of interest to you. After you've freshened, would you meet me in my solar here in the castle?”

  “Yes, Mother,” Elise replied, her heart singing with anticipation and sudden terror. Her feet were so light that she could hardly keep from miming up the stairs to her room.

  * * *

  DOUBTS AND FEARS plagued Elise as Ninette laced her into a clean sundress and helped plait her hair into a gleaming coil that would crown her head. When Elise entered her mother's parlor, she hoped that Lady Aurella could not see how nervous she was, but was certain that her rapidly beating heart must give her away.

  Aurella was sitting by a round window through which sun-light spilled, transforming the embroidery thread spread across her lap into silken gems. On a frame nearby was the piece she had been working on since the previous spring, a heavy green wool waistcoat embroidered with a hawk perched on a well, a bowman standing to one side. The picture was an allusion to her family joined to Ivon's.

  “Come in, Elise,” Aurella said, choosing a hank of yellow thread from those arrayed on her lap and returning the rest to her fat, round wicker embroidery basket, “and close the door behind you.”

  Elise did so, crossing to sit on a chair where she would not block her mother's light. In the winter, the stone flags would be piled deep with mgs, but to counter the summer heat they were left bare and the hard leather soles of her shoes tapped out an almost military tattoo against them.

  “Melina tells me,” Aurella began without preamble, “that her son Jet desires a betrothal to you. She said that her first instinct was to refuse,
but on further consideration she saw that there were advantages. With these in mind, she is willing to permit Jet to become betrothed to you—if your father and I agree, of course.”

  She paused, snipping off a length of thread before moving to another part of her pattern. Elise held her breath, knowing her mother was not finished.

  “I do not know whether or not Melina has consulted yet with her husband. She was careful not to comment on that point as his refusal—real or feigned—would end any decision with no loss of face to anyone involved. My guess, however, is that Jet has spoken only to her. Melina's children must be well aware that without her approval nothing can be done.

  “For my own reasons, I have not yet spoken with your father. Before I do so, cruelly raising hopes that have begun to fade, I wanted to know if you had considered the disadvantages of Jet's proposal.”

  “Disadvantages, Mother?” Elise, her mind alive with im-ages of her handsome suitor and a queen's crown, was shocked.

  “Disadvantages, daughter.” Though her needle continued stitching elaborate details with the ease of a professional tirewoman, Aurella's mien was as serious as if she were advising Queen Elexa. “For one, you will make an enemy—perhaps lifelong—of Sapphire Shield. She will not easily forgive an attempt to supplant her as the favored candidate for heir. This will cause you trouble even if you succeed in your gambit for the throne, but if, despite your manipulations, she becomes queen, she will be in a position to make you miserable.”

  “Sapphire will still have her family holdings,” Elise said stubbornly. “If I am queen, she will need to placate me—not the other way around.”

  “Darling daughter, you,” Aurella sighed, “are naive. And don't forget, betrothal to Jet will not guarantee that you will become queen. Have you considered your aunt Zorana's potential wrath? Even if you can handle arivalfromyour own generation, how would you deal with her?”

  “Aunt Zorana,” Elise said stiffly, her woodenness a cover for the rapid racing of her mind as she considered problems that had never arisen in Jet's rosy depiction of their future, “is the king's niece, tme, but once this is settled, surely she will return to ambitions that had been hers before Princess Lovella's death started this play for the Eagle Throne. Aunt Zorana has four children to think of and certainly will court my favor toward their greater benefit. In any case, if I become queen, her son will be the best choice for the next Baron Archer. What advantage would there be to making an enemy of me?”