Wolf's Eyes

by Jane Lindskold

  Later, seeing Elise Archer laughing at a joke made by one of the guild representatives, Newell commented: “She seems terribly innocent, doesn't she? She grew up around the royal casde and there isn't a secret she doesn't know or an intrigue to which she isn't privy.”

  When Lady Blysse drifted from the party to watch the river, Newell represented the young woman's adolescent boredom as the sullen silence of a cmel and calculating mind. He dropped rumors about her upbringing among wolves, hinted that the creature who usually trailed her with such fidelity was an evil familiar spirit.

  So he went, telling a tale on this one, sharing a confidence about that one. He spared his sister Melina's family a little, wanting to seem a loyal soul, but still managed to dredge up the rumors about Melina's use of magic.

  By the end of his chat with Yuci, Newell was well pleased. Nothing he had said about anyone had been precisely untrue—or had at least been within the realm of common gossip. He knew, however, that hearing it from his lips—from the lips of a prince of Hawk Haven—would give even the mfost outrageous tales credence. Eventually General Grimsel had joined them and Newell had experienced the pleasure of hearing his slander repeated and amplified.

  Yes, last night's game had been a good one, a delightful way to pass a portion of the reception. Today, however, re-fused a place at his monarch's side, Newell had something more serious in mind. If last night he had set the logs on the fire, today he planned to add the kindling.

  At Newell's request, the Stonehold generals agreed to meet the prince at a nice little tavem on the Bright Bay side of the river, near where one of the regular ferries docked. They arranged for a private dining room and refreshments. Newell—as he saw it—took responsibility for the entertainment.

  He doubted that Grimsel and Yuci saw their meeting in exacdy that light. Doubtless they were nervous at meeting with a prince of a nation that was not on the best of terms—if not openly at war—with their own.

  Had he not found their presence so useful, Newell might have even felt sorry for them. The generals’ simple tour abroad to train Bright Bay's army and to command the mercenaries that augmented that same army had mutated into a political crisis.

  Newell imagined how they must have felt when Queen Gustin IV commanded her army to accompany Dlike Allister to Good Crossing. Even if they had wanted to demur—and they would have found that difficult—there would have been pressure from Stonehold that they be on the spot to learn everything as it unfolded.

  After greeting his hosts and inquiring after their welfare, Newell jumpedrightto the reason he had called this meeting, judging that he could hardly string their nerves any tighter without fueling an explosion of some sort.

  “Thank you both, Generals, for making the time to see me.

  General Grimsel, a tall woman, built in every way on the heroic scale, with eyes of transparent blue, returned his greeting with some terseness. Her own infantry idolized her for her past deeds. The Bright Bay troops she had trained were less happy with her, seeing through her surface heartiness to her basic dislike of them, realizing that she saw them as aliens, rather than allies.

  Cavalry commander Yuci, neat and trim despite the previous night's binge, was more polite.

  “We always have time to learn things that may be of interest to Stonehold. That is what you said in your note this early morning, isn't it? You said you had something to tell us that would be of interest to Stonehold.”

  Newell nodded. “I did and I do.”

  “Pray,” Grimsel said, pouring herself a mug of summer ale from the pitcher set in the center of the table, “tell us.”

  Newell bobbed his head again. Then in the slightly breathless tones of a storyteller who wasn't certain of his audience he began:

  “Well, you know the tme reason for the split between Bright Bay and Hawk Haven, don't you? I mean, it wasn't just a natural outgrowth of the years of unrest following the Plague.”

  “No?” Grimsel said, her tones bored.

  “No,” Newell replied, still eager. “There had been any number of factional squabbles from the time the last Old Country nobles left—people fighting to establish holds or to keep what had been given them or just for the right to loot what had been left behind.

  “Out of these, three figures—Zorana Shield, Clive Elk-wood, and Gustin Sailor—had risen to the fore. While they were working together it seemed pretty certain that all of Gildcrest's colonial lands would be reunited under a single government. Then things split down the middle and we ended up with two kingdoms.”

  General Grimsel frowned a sturdy frown, no longer precisely bored but clearly puzzled as to what bearing this dis-course on factionalism over a hundred years past could have on current events.

  “I had heard,” Grimsel said, “that is, we were told—that there was a differences of opinion in how the campaigns should be conducted. In the end, some chose to follow Gustin Sailor, some to follow Zorana Shield. So two kingdoms were born rather than one.”

  “That,” Newell gave an approving smile, “is the story in all our history books. It is completely trae but omits a rather interesting point.”

  “I had also heard,” General Yuci added with a slightiy embarrassed cough, “that Queen Zorana—Zorana Shield then—had excited die love of both Gustin Sailor and Clive Elkwood. She favored Elkwood and in a fit of pique, Gustin Sailor went his own way and took his followers with him.”

  “That,” Newell said, trying to sound as if he were amused but politely concealing that amusement, “is the story told in all our romantic ballads. The truth is darker, more dangerous, and more believable.”

  “Oh?” asked General Grimsel, refiling her mug from the pitcher in what she clearly tholight was a casual gesture.

  “I learned the tme story only because I was wed to a member of the royal family,” Newell said, playing the generals before setting the hook. “No one but members of the royal family are ever told the story by order of Zorana herself. My late wife, the Princess Lovella, knowing that I would rale alongside her one day, confided the tale to me. She was very concerned about how I would take it, for she believed that hearing this tale was what had unmanned her brother, Crown Prince Chalmer, leading to his untimely death.”

  “What was this secret?” General Grimsel pressed, anxious now lest Newell say nothing more.

  Prince Newell dropped his voice and looked uneasy. “I'm not certain I should tell you this, but I'm hoping that if you know the truth, perhaps you will recognize how important it is that Bright Bay and Hawk Haven not be rejoined.”

  General Yuci's dark eyes glittered with what might have been intensity but what Newell feared was lalighter.

  “Perhaps you have your own advancement in mind, Prince Newell? Very well, I can understand such motives. Tell on.”

  “And quickly,” Grimsel added.

  Newell feigned a mixture of anger and embarrassment—a man calight intriguing but unwilling to back out.

  “The real reason that Gustin Sailor split from his associates,” he said, “was that Zorana Shield and Clive Elkwood believed firmly that everything that stank of Old World sorcery should be destroyed. We all know how the mlers kept knowledge of the higher orders of magicfromthe colonists.”

  The two generals nodded, willing to let him digress now that he was on the point. Such restrictive policies had been fairly universal, for the power of high magic was what had permitted the Old Countries to dominate the residents of their colonies.

  Newell continued, “And we all know that most of them took their magical materials home when they left.”

  Again nods.

  “That didn't always happen.” Newell saw the generals exchange surprised glances. “According to the tale King Tedric told Princess Lovella, one day some years after the departure of the Old Country mlers of Gildcrest, Zorana Shield chanced upon an isolated vacation retreat in the foothills of the Iron Mountains where the residents had succumbed to the Plague. Danger of contagion was long past, but the illness
must have come upon the residents suddenly for none of their magical trinkets had been destroyed or sent away.”

  Newell glanced at his audience. Neither looked either bored or inclined to laugh. He continued, satisfied:

  “Zorana bumed the books and scrolls, but there were a few items, a ring, I think, and maybe some sort of wand—Lovella was vague. There may have been more. Before Zorana Shield could destroy these items, her allies joined her. They quarreled, Clive Elkwood supporting her, Gustin Sailor furious at the waste. When it became clear that there was no resolution possible, Gustin acted.

  “In the dark of night, he stole the items and fled to the southeast, near the bay where his strongest base of power lay. Later, those who tholight he had done right rallied to him. Zorana Shield already had a solid following in the lands north of the Barren River, lands still held today by her Shield kindred. To the delight of the balladeers she married Clive Elkwood.

  “Thus the break between our countries—for though they weren't really countries yet the Barren River gradually be-came a boundary between factions. It would take several more years before Zorana Shield and Clive Elkwood solidified their hold on the lands north of the Barren River. After they had, they went after Gustin Sailor. He now held most of the lands south of the Barren—though his interest lay especially along the coast and in the Isles.

  “When Zorana and Clive went after Gustin, that's the period we usually call the Civil War, though ideologically the split had happened several years earlier. The Civil War was folight for something like four years. Clive Elkwood died in one of those battles, but Zorana was firmly at the head of their faction so the fighting went on. Finally, peace seemed easier than continuing to fight—you must remember that some of these people had been fighting for fifteen years or more.

  “With peace, the Barren was confirmed as the border between Hawk Haven and Bright Bay. Zorana's followers had been calling themselves the Hawks, because they were re-solved to fly free without magic's bondage, so their new kingdom was called Hawk Haven.”

  Newell fell silent and General Yuci prompted. “And Gustin Sailor, of course, he became King Gustin I of Bright Bay, but what happened to the magical relics?”

  Newell looked tense and grim. He milked the silence for a few moments more then said:

  “Despite trying repeatedly, Zorana never managed to retrieve them from Gustin. The good thing is that—according to what Princess Lovella told me—no one in Bright Bay has ever possessed the talent to employ the relics. To this day they remain curiosities in the Bright Bay treasury, protected by the Seal of the Sun and brolight forth only upon the coronation of a ruler. Even then, they are only seen by a select few. I've asked around and what I've heard from those few makes me believe the story. Bright Bay has Old World magic.”

  General Grimsel swore a thunderous oath. “Old World magic! If someone learns how to use it, they could destroy us all!”

  “And,” whispered General Yuci, “in Hawk Haven there are those who are sore…”

  Yuci stopped then, remembering that Newell's own sister was a reputed sorceress. Newell politely pretended not to have heard. He'd done what was necessary.

  Stonehold now had an excuse to be at odds with Bright Bay. Whether they would use that excuse to declare war on Bright Bay, to withdraw their mercenaries, or merely to at-tempt to dictate domestic policy he didn't know. What he was certain of was that Stonehold's mlers would not let the opportunity pass them by. Soon enough, Bright Bay would be seeing her ally's tme colors.

  “It is an outrageous tale!” protested General Grimsel loudly, perhaps to cover for her own too tholightful silence.

  Newell rose to take his leave. “I tholight you needed to know the truth—to know why it is so dangerous to let these nations be reunited.”

  “You are a true friend to all humanity,” General Grimsel said. “Stonehold will not forget this noble act.”

  “Thank you, General.”

  General Yuci favored him with a deep bow but said nothing. Newell wondered if he was still shocked by his recollection of Newell's own familial reputation for sorcery or whether he was simply keeping his counsel.

  Prince Newell straightened his hat, bowed, and departed, not wishing to dilute the impression he had made. He had no doubts that Stonehold would do its best to confirm what he had said, but about that he felt no qualms.

  It is an outrageous story, Newell tholight as he left the two generals to their certain consternation. The funny thing is, it is also completely true.

  DESPITE ELISE'S RESOLVE to act immediately, circumstances conspired against her. First, she encountered her cousin Sapphire. Since witnessing the events of the afternoon before, Elise's feelings toward Sapphire had undergone a revolution. No longer did Sapphire seem a pushy older cousin but something of a valiant heroine, striving to maintain her identity despite crippling pressure from without.

  The trouble was that Sapphire's feelings about Elise hadn't changed at all. To Sapphire, Elise was still the lipstart who conspired with her own brother to steal a march on her. Elise drew in a deep breath:

  “Good morning, cousin.”

  “Good morning—though from my reading of the sun,” Sapphire commented unkindly, “it is nearly noon.”

  “True,” Elise replied mildly. “It is. I suppose I do not have your constitution. Last night's party was too much for me. I am not accustomed to such hours or such strong wine.”

  Sapphire paused as if examining this comment for some subtie insult. Failing to find one, she smiled.

  “I am about to go riding,” she said reluctantly, certainly remembering Melina Shield's recent reminder that Sapphire had a duty to her family, not merely to herself. “Would you like to join me? It would sweat the wine out of you properly.”

  Riding was the last thing Elise wanted to do, but she would be an utter fool to reject such an offer, especially since she had resolved to rescue Sapphire from her mother.

  “Let me change,” she said. “Ninette, ask one of the grooms to bring around my palfrey.”

  “I'll take care of that,” Sapphire offered. “I was going to saddle up the Blue.”

  Elise thanked her. As she changed into riding breeches—the pretty frock she had worn to go on Firekeeper's hawking party so long ago was back in Eagle's Nest—Elise cautioned Ninette to say nothing to anyone.

  “I won't, Elise,” the woman said earnestly. “I think I'll take my sewing and go join the lady's circle. I won't be so scared in daylight and maybe I'll learn something.”

  “You are brave,” Elise said, kissing Ninette on one cheek. “Do that, but keep your own mouth tightly sealed. I wouldn't have harm come to you for all the world.”

  Riding with Sapphire was surprisingly enjoyable, though, of course, Sapphire must show off her superior skill. Elise found it easy to give her cousin the praise she clearly craved, for when Sapphire tholight herself unwatched her hand often fell to her side as if to quiet the pain of her wound.

  They visited Ivon Archer and Purcel Tmeheart among their troops. Here, Elise learned, Sapphire had developed quite a following. They found the same when Elise suggested that they visit Earl Kestrel's cavalry unit. Despite a large proportion of the riders being female, here too Sapphire was a favorite.

  Perhaps she is not all bluster and pose, Elise tholight. Perhaps beneath that showy armor and boastful talk does beat a warrior heart. The question is, is that also the heart of a queen?

  When they returned to the encampment, the nobles’ enclave was buzzing with news. Nydia and Opal ran out to meet them.

  “The king met with Allister Seagleam this morning,” Dia announced.

  “And,” Opal cut in, “they have arranged that there will be a great ball in a few days. All our noble folk and officers will be invited.”

  “And all of theirs,” added Dia. “They're also inviting important people from the towns.”

  “And Mother thinks,” said Opal with a guarded glance at her older sister, “that the purpose is to see who
might make a marriage with one of Allister's children.”

  “Our mother thinks so too,” Dia added, and her expression was strange, a mixture of anticipation and what Elise was certain was fear.

  “Since none of us brolight appropriate clothing,” Opal said, a real thrill of delight in her voice this time, “we are all to go to town this afternoon and visit the shops. Messages have been sent ahead and it is mmored that a great bazaar will be prepared for our pleasure.”

  “And Lady Blysse,” Elise said when the three excited girls paused for breath, “has anyone told her of this grand event?”

  Glances between the two made clear that not only had Blysse not been told, the tacit decision had been made not to tell her. Elise was slightly surprised when Sapphire said:

  “She has not been, I see. Very well. Elise and I will ride to the Kestrel camp and tell her.”

  Before there could be any protest, Sapphire reined the Blue around and Elise's palfrey was quick to follow.

  “Blysse,” Sapphire said, “saved my life—she and her men. I will not have her slighted in such a petty way.”

  Elise glowed with delight. Perhaps her cousin did have the heart of a queen as well as that of a warrior.

  “May I offer you a hint?” she said.

  “What?”

  “Lady Blysse likes her friends to call her Firekeeper.” Sapphire looked offended for a moment. Then a slow smile spread across her face.

  “Her friends, you say. Very well. I will remember that.”

  SHOPPING TOOK THE REST of the daylight hours. It was not merely a female expedition. Most of the noblemen and officers had come no better equipped. The informal bazaar was filled with men and women examining bolts of fabric, conferring with seamstresses and tailors, and shooting each other shy glances as if wondering what the other sex would think of their finery. Festivities extended into twilight with impromptu dinner parties in most of the finer inns.

  Hope was up to the challenge. The resident clothiers recruited nearly everyone who could use a needle to work in their shops. They were forced to compete for labor with the jewelers and cobblers, as well as the purveyors of food and drink. Despite all this ingenuity, many of those invited found themselves forced to mend and polish their own attire and many of the locals had to make do with last season's gown or waistcoat rather than the new one they craved.