Wolf's Eyes

by Jane Lindskold

  Instead, Jet had become impatient, even sniping, hinting that she was a tease or even unable to respond to his attentions. This had been rather insulting. She might be unpracticed, but her mother had told her about the mechanics and she was certain there was nothing wrong with her

  As their courtship had extended, Elise had tried to over-look the occasional innuendos that hinted her betrothed visited the camp followers, but learning that he had been in a brothel when his sister had been assaulted—and apparently not for the first time in his life—had been a real blow. Jet was nothing like she imagined and she was bound to him by her own wish.

  Elise was too honest with herself to accept the tempting notion that Jet's behavior was a result of his mother's machinations. The idea was tantalizing, inviting her dream to take on new life. In that new fantasy, she would rescue him from the sorceress's control, grinding the jet emblem on his fore-head into dust beneath her heel. Then he would fall to his knees before her, swearing his undying love, and become the man of her dreams.

  No. As much as she wished that were the truth, Elise must honestiy admit that the truth of Jet's character—no better, but no worse than many a young man of his age—had been there all along. Hadn't there been the rumors about why Duke Redbriar's granddaughter vanished from the social scene? Hadn't Trissa Wellward hinted at things when she and Jet were keeping company some years ago? Hadn't Trissa been devastated beyond proportion when Melina Shield put an end to the relationship?

  Hadn't there been the time, back when Elise herself was fourteen and playing hide-and-seek with Jet and his sibUngs, that he had found her hiding place and used that privacy to steal a kiss and fumble at her breast? At the time she had been flattered and curiously thrilled that the handsome older boy had seen her as a woman. Now she realized that his behavior was all of a type.

  No. Jet had only been a hero from a romantic ballad in Elise's own imagination. She forgave him and herself, but that didn't change that if they married he would likely be unfaithful and difficult. If Melina Shield ever raised the curse, that is

  “We must stop Lady Melina,” Elise said softly. “Otherwise what she said is perfectiy trae. Whoever is on the throne, she will find a way to rule. Even now, the most likely con-tenders include her husband and two of her children. Hawk Haven must be ruled honestly, not through sorcery.”

  Ninette blanched, but to her credit did not try to dissuade Elise. Perhaps in the privacy of her own thoughts she had been reaching the same decision. Setting her teacup on the tray, Ninette asked simply:

  “How?”

  “First, someone else must know what we do,” Elise said. “Otherwise we may join those who are bound to silence.”

  “Who?”

  Elise had been about to suggest her father, but the sudden shrill cry of a falcon, heard as if it called greeting while passing over their pavilion, was inspiration.

  “My father might or might not believe us, but I'm certain that Derian and Firekeeper would. Let's start there.”

  “How about Sir Jared? He has the king's ear.”

  “Then him as well, if he is present.” Elise snatched up a straw bonnet. “Let's go. If I wait too long, I'm going to lose my nerve.”

  And I hope, she thought as they left the pavilion, that in telling this I don't lose my tongue.

  XVIII

  WITHOUT, THE SUMMER MORNING had become quite hot and thick, but within the thick cobblestone III walls of the Toll House, the temperature was comfortable. The windows at either end of the room in “T which King Tedric and Allister Seagleam were meeting were open, curtained in fine woven fabric to keep out both insects and the river miasma. Bowls of rose incense bumed in front of each window as a further precaution against river ills, giving the room the scent of a well-bom lady's private chamber.

  It is, thought Allister Seagleam, a strange ambience for a meeting between two men.

  King Tedric had suggested—and Allister readily agreed—that their first conference be kept as small as possible. They had settled on themselves, two assistants to take notes, and two guards to watch the doors and handle the inevitable interruptions. These were effacing themselves as much as possible, so Allister had the curious feeling that he was alone with his uncle.

  Today's meeting was being held on the Good Crossing side of the Toll House, technically within territory owned by Bright Bay; thus Hawk Haven had already made the first concession. Looking at the steady old man seated across from him, Allister felt that King Tedric had lost nothing. Last night he had only noticed the king's courtesy and majesty. Today he saw more.

  King Tedric was evidently ill. Perhaps the malady was nothing more than advancing age, but, like many of Bright Bay's nobility, Allister had studied some medicine. Those lessons were meant to enable him to act as a medic if caught far from shore on one of the sea commands that any able-bodied member of the nobility took as a matter of course. Today they showed Allister the paleness of the king's face, the slight blueness around his lips, and told him: “A weak heart. Uncle Tedric must resolve this contention on the matter of his heir or leave his kingdom in chaos when his heart fails him.”

  Resembling more than a little the eagle woven into the brocade fabric of his waistcoat, King Tedric leaned forward and said with a curious bluntness that was not impolite:

  “So. I have named my heir. Why are you here, Nephew?”

  “Because, when we asked for this meeting,” Allister answered steadily, “you had not named your heir. I was born to be your heir—-or at any rate the heir to Hawk Haven. I thought you should have a look at me before you made up your mind.”

  King Tedric nodded. “I see you. Why should you be chosen over someone I have known all his or her life?”

  “Your father, my grandfather, King Chalmer, arranged for my mother to marry my father so that a prince and princess of both kingdoms might reunite the realms.”

  “That's tme. Do you think it would work?”

  Allister saw the faintest twinkle in the old man's pale eyes and answered honestly:

  “I don't really know. I have been told that many of your people beheve that I am heir to Bright Bay. You know and I know that I am not. I do not think that Gustin the Fourth will step down in favor of me, even if you granted me your throne. However, there is hope that perhaps one of my children might wed one of Gustin's children—and as of yet she has none—and so in time resolve the separation.”

  “Trusting to an unborn child and the actions of not just your generation but your grandchild's generation to bring the solution.” Tedric sighed. “That is a slim hope. The best thing would have been to wed you when you were of age to one of your cousins, my daughter Lovella, perhaps, or Rosene's Zorana. Marras's daughter would have been ideal as she was already in line for our throne, but poor Marigolde didn't live beyond her first year.”

  “That might have been ideal,” Allister agreed, “but by the time I was a young man, it was already evident that the experiment was a mistake—that suited as they were by birth and age, my parents were not suited by temperament. They lived apart from shortly after my birth, but Princess Caryl was forced by politics to remain in Bright Bay, an alien princess in a hostile country. She might have been accepted eventually, but Mother was not a tactful woman…”

  “None of King Chalmer's other children were,” Tedric said grumpily. “Why should Caryl be different?”

  Allister hid a smile. “And she made many people hate her. These would have refused to follow me as king even if the union of which King Chalmer and Queen Gustin the Second had briefly dreamed had come to pass. My father was among those who hated Princess Caryl—as well as the ambivalence of his own position. Another powerful group who opposed Mother was the family of Crown Prince Basil's wife, who saw Mother's marriage to Father as an attempt to unseat their daughter as queen-to-be. Indeed, Crown Prince Basil wasn't delighted by the thought that his younger brother might be set above him at the whim of his mother—a resentment that grew stronger after I was born and Uncle B
asil and his wife remained childless.”

  “They were quite right to resent you,” King Tedric granted. “I have often thought that if my father and your grandmother wished to make this great plan work they should have wed their heirs, but that would have been a greater gamble. This one left them the elegant pretense that the marriage was merely of noble to noble, not of heir to heir.”

  “True,” Dlike Allister said, “but because they did not take that gamble, Gustin the Fourth is ruler after her grandmother and father rather than I.”

  “Do you resent that?” King Tedric asked.

  “Not really,” Allister answered honestiy. “I grew to man-hood knowing that I was issue of a failed venture. Neither of my parents were unkind to me. My father assured that I was granted name and title. My mother schooled me in the traditions of both my countries.”

  “Both?”

  “She did not wish me at disadvantage in anything.”

  “That's Caryl.”

  “It's strange,” Allister mused aloud. “My parents died within a year of each other—both in their mid-fifties. Neither could remarry, of course, but as far as I know neither ever became seriously involved with another person. Mother pined for Father, I think. I don't know whether she had focused so much of her energy on hating him that when he was gone she lost all reason for living or whether she secretly loved him.”

  “Your father died at sea?”

  “That's right. It's a very usual death for a member of the Bright Bay nobility. Most of our wealth comes from the sea and we join our people in harvesting it.”

  Allister was acutely aware of King Tedric studying him. His first impulse was to look away. Then he squared his shoulders and met the old man's gaze.

  “Tell me, Allister,” the old king said, “do you want to be my heir?”

  “Not,” Allister replied with an answering bluntness of which he was certain Queen Gustin would not approve, “without the approval of your people. Otherwise, I am inviting worse, not better, for your people and for those of Bright Bay.”

  “I notice you do not say for your people and for mine.”

  “I told you, my mother reared me to think of both coun-tries as my own. Although I have lived all my life in Bright Bay, it is difficult to escape such early indoctrination.”

  Allister wondered if he had said too much. He had selected the clerk who sat scribbling notes a few places down the table, but the man was duty bound to report to Queen Gustin. She might well consider his making his own terms—when her orders had been to do his best to win the Hawk Haven throne—an act of treason. King Tedric hadn't seemed to mind, but Allister's home and lands were not within King Tedric's kingdom.

  “For you to be accepted within Hawk Haven at all,” Tedric said after a long pause, “you would need to be allied with one of our Great Houses. I would offer you one of my own children or grandchildren, but I have none. If I had any, I would not be sitting here with you.”

  “I suppose not,” Allister agreed. He wondered about the wolf girl of whom he had heard. Some said that she was Tedric's granddaughter, others simply a contrivance of Earl Kestrel's. He decided to wait to ask about her until he could introduce the subject gracefully.

  “I have,” Tedric sighed, “nieces and nephews of your age, but they are married and you are married. Beginning this proposition with several divorces would undo any good we could do.”

  “Trae.”

  “Thus we move to the next generation, playing games with young lives as my father played with the lives of Caryl and Tavis. Do we want to risk that?”

  “I don't know.”

  Alister thought of the letter from Zorana Archer folded within his breast pocket. The longer he spoke with the king, the more he was certain that she had acted of her own accord, not with the king's knowledge. Should he tell the king? What might Tedric's reaction be? Would the king thank Alister for his honesty or would he condemn him for treating with—or perhaps for misrepresenting—one of his nieces?

  Alister waited, knowing that he could not wait too long or the moment would pass. King Tedric accepted a glass of sweet pear cider from his clerk and continued thoughtfully:

  “Are any of your children married?”

  “No.”

  “Betrothed?”

  “My eldest, Shad, is betrothed to a girl of good family in Bright Bay. It is a political arrangement.”

  “Aren't they all,” the king said breezily.

  “I understand that your father married for love.”

  “And was forced to distribute tides to appease his angry Great Houses. These days most marriages among our Great Houses are alliances. Sometimes they work out quite well. Elexa has become my right hand, though initially we did not care for each other. Othertimesthese marriages do not work at all and create trouble for the families.”

  “Ah.”

  “Are you indicating that Shad's political betrothal could be broken if necessary?”

  “Queen Gustin would probably insist.”

  “I see.”

  A knock sounded on the door without. King Tedric's guard—Sir Dirkin Eastbranch, Allister recalled—went to answer it.

  “Yes?”

  A note was passed in. Sir Dirkin carried it to the king, who broke the seal and read it. Smiling wearily, he passed it to Allister.

  “As you can see, my physician is reminding me that my heart is not strong and that I should rest. As much as I am enjoying this conversation, I believe I should obey.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  “We will both be hounded by questions. I, for one, shall tell my people we are still feeling out what the other wants and needs. You may tell yours whatever you wish.”

  “I believe you have spoken the simple truth, Uncle.”

  “One last thing.”

  “Yes?”

  The king studied his gnarled fingers. “I am unwiling to contract too freely with young lives as was done in my father's day. Within my kingdom, perhaps, but across the borders is a different matter. I suggest we hold another gathering—a dance perhaps—so I can see how everyone behaves.”

  Allister could hardly believe what he was hearing. A dance? At such a critical time? King Tedric read something of his expression.

  “You forget, good Nephew. I have named my heir. My meeting with you is simply to see if I will change my mind. If we are to make monumental decisions, let us not make them in haste.”

  Allister bowed. “I agree.”

  On that accord they departed. Messages would be sent back and forth arranging the next meeting and the ball to be held some days hence, as soon as arrangements could be made. Followed closely by his men, Allister descended the Toll House stairs and departed.

  He was so busy composing how he would reply to various questions from die Bright Bay contingent that he did not notice the anxious concern with which the generals of Stone-hold watched him pass.

  PRINCE NEWELL SHIELD INITIALLY had been more than a little put out at being kept from the king's conference with Allister Seagleam. Surely he hadn't come all this way to be balked at the door! Somewhat mollified when he learned that everyone was being refused, he decided to put his morning to good use.

  The two generals from Stonehold had come to last night's reception already edgy and Newell had taken it upon himself to make them more so. That there had been two of them had caused him some difficulty at first, but there had been no avoiding that situation.

  Stonehold assigned all posts in pairs, a parallel to their governmental system. One of the pair was drawn from stock originally from the Old Country of Alkyab. The other was a scion of the Old Country of Tavetch. When the Plague Years had begun, Alkyab and Tavetch had been among the first countries to abandon their colonies. Faced with powerful neighbors, all still receiving support from their founding countries, their colonists had banded together.

  Perhaps if physically they hadn't looked so different, the two cultures would have merged, but the people were different. The people of Tavetch were
tall, heavily built, massive people with a tendency toward blue or green eyes and fair hair. The people of Alkyab were small, even petite. Their skin was the yellow-tan of old ivory, their eyes dark and slanting, their hair jetty dark.

  Their religious customs differed as well. The fair-haired Tavetch worshipped a sun deity possessed of three aspects who, according to their legends, was wed to a lunar goddess whose face changed each day as the face of the moon changed. The stars were the children of these deities and danced messages regarding their parents’ wishes for humanity in elaborate patterns on the night sky.

  The Alkyab were, as the descendants of Gildcrest saw things, far less superstitious. They, too, understood that one's ancestors were one's Uaisons with the complicated and in-comprehensible forces that mled destiny and fortune. Trae, the Alkyab built temples to their ancestors (rather than the descendants of Gildcrest's less ostentatious family shrines) and governed marriages by a complex system having to do withfiguringdegrees of relationships. These differences were an acceptable eccentricity given that the Alkyab's ancestors had come from lands unknown and so the Alkyab were the ones with whom Newell Shield felt more comfortable.

  Therefore, at the reception Prince Newell had made his first overtures to little General Yuci, a skilled horseman and commander of cavalry. Yuci had been arguing with Earl Kestrel about the merits of various methods of training horses to withstand the noise and chaos of battle when Newell came up. Yuci was several strong glasses of wine past what his slim frame could bear and Earl Kestrel had seemed sincerely grateful at being rescued.

  Under the guise offindingthe general somewhere in which to sober up a bit, Newell had steered Yuci to a quiet comer and proceeded to alter his perception of events.

  “Of course,” Newell had begun blithely, “King Tedric is delighted to meet Allister Seagleam. He despises all his other nieces and nephews, never could get on with his brother and sister, you know.”