Wolf's Eyes

by Jane Lindskold

  Race stared at him in amazement, then said, “Valet, you don't say much, but when you do, you sure say a mouthful.”

  LATE THAT AFTERNOON, when Derian was grooming Roanne and coaching Firekeeper as she sparred with Ox, Doc came into their camp. Like Race, Sir Jared had taken a temporary commission, but his was with the medical corps. His uniform was the brilliant scarlet that served both to mark him out as a medic and to hide the gorier side effects of his calling.

  Unlike Race, Doc didn't wear the Kestrel badge, but the one granted to him when he received his knighthood: a hand palm upraised and impaled with several arrows. Beneath that was pinned a brooch in the shape of an eagle outlined in scarlet enamel, the wing feathers worked in silver, the beak and talons in gold, and the eyes perfectly faceted diamonds.

  Doc slipped Roanne a piece of carrot, then said to Derian in a hushed voice, “I'd like to speak with you privately when you're done.”

  “I'll meet you there,” Derian tossed his head to indicate a hillock about equidistant between their camp and a copse of trees that skirted the field, “as soon as I have this done.”

  Curiosity made Derianfinishmore quickly than he should and by way of an apology he gave the chestnut mare another chunk of carrot. Seizing a water bottle, he ambled to where Doc leaned against a slender tree trunk.

  “What's up?” he asked, sitting beside the other man. “You look grim.”

  “Do you know Hope well?” was Doc's answer. “I haven't been here for some years.”

  “Pretty well,” Derian replied. “I haven't been here for about a year, but I've come the last several with my father. You can get some good deals on stock this time of year from folk who don't want to feed them over the winter.”

  “Legally owned?” Doc asked, curious despite his evident preoccupation.

  “Not all,” Derian admitted, “but quite a few are. There are wild horses in the plains to the southwest. Some cross into Hawk Haven, but the best herds are found in Bright Bay. Import is legal, but elsewhere you pay a fee at the border. Here…”

  Doc nodded. “I see. Well, I need your help. The Surgeon General and the king's personal physician have asked me to purchase something for them.”

  He hesitated and Derian said quickly, “I won't say a word to anyone, not even Firekeeper if you don't want me to.”

  “I'll take your word on that,” the knight said, and Derian felt his heart swell with pride.

  “Go on,” he said, a bit more gruffly than he had intended.

  “The king,” Doc said, still hesitant, “is not a young man and this journey has not been easy for him.”

  Derian decided to help him along. “Lady Elise told Fire-keeper and me—she didn't want to talk about it with her aunts, they having their own agendas—that she was worried. She said King Tedric looked grey and tired.”

  “Lady Elise,” Doc said, a glow banishing his worried expression for a moment, “has good eyes for this. She has studied some of what I've been teaching Firekeeper, saying that if there 'is trouble, ancestors forfend, she wants to be able to do more than hide in the fortress.”

  The glow vanished as Doc went back to his immediate concern.

  “King Tedric's heart is not strong,” he said, as if admitting to treason, “not diseased, simply tired. As long as he took limited, healthful exercise and rested well it did not trouble him. However, both have been denied to him.

  “There is a tonic that has been helping him. Unhappily, the king's physician did not anticipate so great a need and he has nearly exhausted his supply. Some of the ingredients are rare and not of the type the Surgeon General would stock in quantity for the field hospital.”

  “So they want you to buy some,” Derian prompted.

  “Yes.” Jared smiled. “In short, I need tofindan apothecary who will not gossip, preferably one who is loyal to Hawk Haven. Can you help me?”

  Derian considered. “What are the ingredients you need?”

  After Jared had told him, Derian smiled encouragingly. “Some of those are used for horses as well as people. We can buy those from a farrier I know and none the wiser. The last few… Yes, I think I know the person to deal with. My father buys fragrances from her few my mother.”

  “Fragrances?” Doc said dubiously.

  “Don't worry,” Derian assured him. “Hazel's a healer as well. Perfumes are her hobby. My father swears her attar of roses is superior to anything you can get in Eagle's Nest.”

  Doc nodded. “Very good. Now, remember, not a word of this to anyone.”

  “I promise.” Derian's eyes sparkled. “If any of the others ask me what we were talking about, I'll say you wanted my advice on the best way to court a girl.”

  To his great amusement, Sir Jared Surcliffe colored nearly as deep a red as his uniform.

  They left camp that evening as dusk was falling. Derian had made a quick trip into the town and assured himself that both farrier and apothecary were going to be open that evening.

  “Extended hours,” he told Doc as they walked into town that evening, both of them dressed casually as if joining the men on leave. “Who would miss a chance to do business tonight with all these soldiers with money to spend and only one night to spend it?”

  “I'd forgotten that not all of them would go to taverns and brothels,” Doc confessed.

  “Nope,” Derian said cheerfully, caught up in the general air of festivity despite his awareness of the importance of their mission. “Many will end up there, but some simply want a decent meal or to augment their kits. Others will be shopping for gifts to send to the family back home. Smuggling being what it is here, this is the perfect place to find something exotic and wonderful.”

  When the two men reached the town proper, they had to thread their way through streets crowded with exultant soldiers. It was too early for many to be very drunk, but they passed at least one brawl: two men, slugging at each other with such narrow focused concentration that they hadn't noticed that the whore who was the reason for their dispute had left with another man.

  “I'm glad,” Doc said, “that Firekeeper agreed to remain behind.”

  Derian laughed. “I think I solved that one rather neatly. I took her with me this afternoon. She was horrified by the crowding and stench. When I told her it would be worse tonight, she was happy to stay away.”

  As they moved along, several times they encountered former patients who offered to buy Sir Jared and his friend a drink. Other soldiers, often those with whom Derian had raced horses or thrown dice of an evening, called out to the pair to join them.

  “We'd better accept some of their invitations,” Derian advised, “unless you want to look like you're on duty.”

  Doc agreed somewhat reluctantly, but Derian kept an eye on the flow of traffic and made their excuses.

  “I've got to stop by a farrier and pass on some information for my family business,” he said. “Coming, Doc? This fellow has some fine horses, better than the one you're riding.”

  Doc shrugged. “I guess so. Just remember, my commission doesn't cover a private mount.”

  They made their exit neatly and Doc gave Derian an admiring punch on the shoulder.

  “Nicely done, young.man. Cover story as well as an excuse to leave.”

  “At your service, Sir Jared,” Derian laughed.

  “What excuse do you have in mind for our trip to the apothecary?” Jared asked with a grin.

  “Perfume, of course,” Derian replied lightly, “for that girl you were asking me about.”

  This time he decided not to ignore Jared's blush.

  “Dare I guess who is on your mind?” he asked. “It won't go any further.”

  “Please don't let it,” Jared begged. “I've tried hard to hide my feelings, but she is betrothed.”

  Elise's name hardly needed to be spoken.

  “A political arrangement,” Derian said firmly.

  “One she asked for,” Jared countered, “if mmor is correct”

  “One she may regret, if
I read herright.Jet is not all Elise imagined him to be. I think she has learned more about him over the past moon-span, especially since she has been traveling in this company.”

  Derian hesitated, wondering how much he should say. Ninette, Elise's maid, was one of the few women in this entourage who was not in uniform, above his station, or a prostitute. Although Ninette was not really his type, Derian enjoyed female company and had found himself drifting into visiting with her. Teasing and flirtation had progressed into something like confidences, offered since Ninette shrewdly recognized Derian's sincere liking for her mistress.

  Jared remained somberly unconvinced and so Derian went on, “Jet frequently seeks Elise's company when the day's travel is over. Lately, I've noticed that she finds reasons for them to visit in public.”

  “She is a lady,” Jared protested indignantly, “not some tart!”

  “She is a young woman,” Derian persisted steadily, “and a woman's blood can ran as hot as a man's with no fault to her but that she risks a child and a man does not. Ninette tells me that Elise was not always so chary of time alone with Jet.”

  Jared colored, clearly torn between indignation at the thought that his ideal could be vulnerable to passion, and hope that she indeed did not favor her betrothed.

  “She…” He stopped, unable to go on.

  “You told me once you were married,” Derian said. “An arranged marriage to a girl you had known from childhood.”

  “Yes.” Doc's monosyllable was guarded.

  “And are you telling me that you and your betrothed never touched before the wedding? No kissing games? No little trial mns, a blouse opened maybe, a hand guided to touch?”

  The light was too dim for Derian to be certain, but he felt sure Doc was blushing again. Shining Horse Hooves! He himself had played the same games and more, and he could feel his own color rising. It must be that talking about a thing was more embarrassing than actually doing it.

  “Don't fault Elise for having the same impulses,” Derian continued, despite his embarrassment, “especially with a man she has been smitten with since she was a girl. Take hope instead that she no longer welcomes such games.”

  Doc said nothing, but in the flickering light from a freshly lit streetlamp, Derian caught the hint of a smile.

  “Here's the farrier,” Derian said, glad to have an excuse to change the subject. “Come along and look at the horses.”

  Their stay lasted well over an hour, extended because the farrier was busy with a group of cavalry women, each of whom was replacing items from her kit, several of whom wanted to try the paces of a horse or two. Knowing that Doc didn't want to draw attention to himself, Derian chatted up one of the stablehands, tried out a horse or two himself, and even convinced Doc to relax enough to examine a colt with great potential.

  Derian did indeed have business messages from his father to the farrier and would have delivered them that afternoon but for the opportunity this gave him to draw the farrier aside. Then he asked to see the man's stock of horse medicines. Taking covert signals from Doc, he investigated the wares and made his purchases.

  Once they were out in the street with their packages, Derian said, “You'll need to speak with the apothecary yourself. I know something about these ointments, but nothing about the rest of the stuff you mentioned.”

  “That won't be a problem,” Doc replied. “With what.we've already purchased, she'll have a harder time guessing just why I need what I do. Especially,” he grinned at Derian, “when I add a small order for attar of roses.”

  The apothecary's shop was set back from the street behind a small herb garden that provided advertisement for her wares. Climbing roses in red, white, and pale yellow covered the front of the shop, still heavily in bloom despite the lateness of the season.

  “Some say,” Derian commented, as they passed through the gate, “that the apothecary's a sorceress.”

  Doc looked quite serious. “I wouldn't be at all surprised if she is talented. It is late for roses to be so heavily in bloom.”

  Despite Derian's own turns tending the family kitchen garden, Derian had never considered the significance of late-blooming roses. Without further words, he opened the shop door.

  As elsewhere in the town, business was brisk, but Hazel Healer herself recognized Derian as a regular customer and left her assistants to handle the walk-in trade. A woman in her mid-fifties with strong features that would never be called pretty, nonetheless, her confidence and friendly smile made her handsome.

  “Here's an old customer,” she said. “Is Colby with you?”

  “Not this time,” Derian replied. “He's waiting to make his trip until the upcoming negotiations are through. I'm here with my new master, Earl Kestrel.”

  “As the wolf-girl's keeper.” Hazel smiled. “Yes. I'd heard something of that. Come into my workroom and tell me more.”

  Derian could not have wished for better and he motioned for Jared to follow him. Once they were in the workroom, Derian made introductions.

  “Mistress Hazel Healer,” he said, “I would like to present my friend, Jared.”

  Doc had asked not to be introduced with his full name and titles, but here again gossip had gone before them.

  “Sir Jared Surcliffe,” Hazel replied, making a deep curtsy. “I am honored.”

  With a slight shmg for Derian, Doc returned her greeting with a bow. “And I am to meet you. Derian has spoken well of you and of your shop.”

  “Thank you, and don't look so surprised that I know who you are. I'm from Eagle's Nest myself originally. Many members of my family live and work at the castle. I have seen you there myself, years ago.”

  “Would I know any of your family?” Jared asked politely.

  “Unless you frequent the grounds, Sir Jared,” she said, “I doubt it. My cousin is Head Gardener now and, if the Green Thumb passes on, one of his children will follow in turn.”

  Derian grinned. “I know your aunt, then,” he said. “Goody Holly Gardener. She has befriended my wolf-girl, as you called her.”

  “Firekeeper,” Hazel said, twinkUng at his surprise, for Lady Blysse's wolf-name was not commonly known. “Aunt Holly wrote me when she heard you were coming here with the army, asking that I help as I might. She never realized that you and I have been friends since you were but freckles and red hair.”

  She poured them tiny crystal glasses of her own cherry cordial and they settled down to visit. Despite the relaxed atmosphere, Derian was surprised when Doc himself opened the question of the necessary herbs.

  “Mistress Hazel,” Doc said, “I am in great need of several rare—and expensive—items for my medical use. I would like to purchase them from you or, if that is not possible, have you act as my agent in their purchase. I am willing to pay more for your complete silence in that matter—and will do so, although I do not think such is necessary.”

  Hazel, who a moment before had been laughing so hard at one of Derian's stories that he had worried she had imbibed too much of her own distilling, grew immediately serious.

  'Tell me what you need,” she said, “and unless it violates my guild's code, you will have it.”

  Their conversation became technical then. The one thing Derian was certain of was that although Hazel did not say so, she had both a good idea what Doc was preparing to concoct and for whom. Nor did she ask questions when Jared bought a small jar of her famous rose attar.

  When they departed the shop, Doc's purse was much lighter, for he had insisted on paying market rates and a bonus besides, and the two men had several more bundles to stuff into their jacket pockets.

  “Come and see me again,” Hazel said at the door. “Bring Firekeeper. I'd like to meet her.”

  “If I can, I will,” Derian promised.

  “And I with him,” Jared added. “I think you have much you could teach me.”

  “Gladly,” she said with a contented smile. “Gladly.”

  The streets were emptier now, but the noise from the tave
rns louder. The two men walked briskly along, aware that human predators seeking human prey would be prowling. Sober and in company, they were not precisely worried—there was easier prey about—but they saw no reason to invite trouble. None sought them out, but others were not so lucky.

  Past the market area, where residences mingled with businesses and warehouses, they were drawn up short in their steps by a shrill scream of pure terror.

  Derian whirled, orienting on the sound. Doc pointed down a narrow alley at whose far end was just visible a flicker of Ught.

  “There!” he said, starting to dash that way.

  “No, you fool!” Derian said, grabbing his arm. “It could be a trap—a bait and hit!”

  Doc shook him loose. “Then I'll fall for it!”

  Cursing himself for behaving as no city-bred man should, Derian ran after him. Their boots splashed in noxious puddles of unseen mess. Doc bumped a pile of trash that squeaked and spewed forth rats. Then they were in the open again.

  They found themselves in a narrow street on which just about every streetlamp had been blown out. In this scattered Ught, a young woman, her black hair a cloud about her shoulders, was holding off three men. Only the fact that she bore a sword and shield while they were armed with knives had made this possible.

  Even as Derian and Jared realized what was going on, the boldest of the attackers darted forward. Raising his knife he made a murderous slash. The woman blocked with her shield, but as she did so the second darted forward and tangled her sword with his cloak. The third was about to disarm her when Doc, unarmed except for his courage, went charging forth.

  His bellow halted the attackers in midmotion. The woman took advantage of the momentary confusion to soUdly bash the first man with her shield. As he cmmpled unconscious, she spun, perhaps more from exhaustion than from skill, and Derian got a good look at the device: a octagonal blue sapphire on a silver field.

  “Hold on!” he yelled. “Rescue's here!”

  Jared's momentum carried him into the second man, who dropped his cloak and reached for his knife. Derian would have liked to keep an eye on him, but found himself confronting the third man, the one who had been about to take Sapphire's sword. The long knife in the bandit's right hand glittered wickedly, but Derian didn't feel fear, only a dreadful clarity of focus on that shining silver edge.