Wolf's Eyes

by Jane Lindskold

  “She stated that she herself was already married,” Allister continued, somewhat nervously, for the old eagle's face was completely unreadable, “but that she had several children of marriageable or near marriageable age. She then went on to name these children and note something about each.”

  King Tedric coughed dryly. “It must have been a veritable tome.”

  “The missive did ran to several close-written pages, Your Majesty,” Allister admitted. “Next she expressed considerable knowledge about my own fanuly, including the knowl-edge that my son Shad was already betrothed—a thing that astonished me a little, as the betrothal is fairly recent and I had not tholight the news would have reached your court.

  “Then she suggested the combination of her children and mine would be—in her opinion—to our mutual advantage. She signed the letter and impressed it with her personal seal so that there would be no doubt of her identity.”

  “Do you have this letter still?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Queen Gustin, to whom I confided this information…”

  “You did. I see.”

  “Queen Gustin ordered me to give her the letter for her state archives. I refused on the grounds that it was a personal communication to me in my capacity as the head of my family, not in any of the positions that I hold for the Crown.”

  “Very correcdy, I'm certain.” King Tedric smiled slightiy. “And I'm certain also that as a monarch Queen Gustin was rather piqued.”

  “I'm afraid she was, Your Majesty.”

  “I much preferred when you referred to me as Uncle Tedric or, fading that, King Tedric. Don't worry, Nephew. I'm not going to bite heads off just because you brolight this to me. Not your head at least…”

  For a moment his smile faded and Allister was reminded again that the eagle was a bird of prey. Then King Tedric was sternly affable again.

  “Do you plan to show me this remarkable document?”

  “If you will agree to leave it in my custody.”

  “I will. I can hardly respect your rights less than did your own monarch. I would come out rather badly in the comparison.”

  Allister reached into his inside jacket pocket and removed the several sheets of vellum.

  “Thick enough to stop an arrow,” King Tedric mused. “If you would bide a moment, have a cup of something to drink, I will just quickly review this.”

  He pulled a pair of reading spectacles from his own breast pocket and did so. Allister sipped water flavored with mint and rose hips, hoping by the Bull's Wide Forehead that he had done the right thing.

  At last, King Tedric set the letter aside and sighed. Re-moving his spectacles, he methodically put them away, saying:

  “Zorana. I tholight it might be her when you began. She's ambitious and her ambitions were sadly stifled when Baron Archer and Lord Rolfston agreed to betroth two of their children. They knew I could hardly overlook the opportunity to flatter three of my Great Houses. Lord Rolfston's wife is a Shield, you see, while Baron Archer's wife is a Wellward. Lord Rolfston himself is a Redbriar on his mother's side.”

  “Oh.” Allister felt a bit out of his depth here. In Bright Bay the noble houses all had one name, the same as their house emblem. His case was rather an exception. Normally, he would have taken his mother's family name since Seagleam was reserved for members of the royal family—all but for the monarch, who became a Gustin. However, he couldn't well be an Eagle in Bright Bay, so he had been granted a dispensation to bear his father's name. His children, however, were Oysters.

  “Zorana,” King Tedric repeated the name, a little sadly it seemed to Allister. “I will need to speak with her. In the meantime, what do you think of her proposal: her Purcel and one of your little girls?”

  Allister spoke carefully. “Remembering that we are not talking a romantic alliance here, but a political one, I suppose the first and most important question is what do you think of her proposal?”

  King Tedric looked at him blankly, then roared with lalighter, an amazingly deep and rich sound coming from such an apparently frail body. Worried that Tedric would do himself harm, Allister glanced around, but even Sir Dirkin, normally as expressionless as a piece of wood, seemed to have a small smile on his face.

  “Nephew! Nephew!” the king gasped when the worst of the lalighter had passed. “Where did you learn to speak so bluntly?”

  “From my mother, your sister,” Allister replied honestly. “I told you that she did not make herself popular among the nobility and she did not do that by remaining meek, quiet, and demure.”

  A few more snorts of lalighter and then the king said, “And so this is how you honor Caryl's memory. Very good. What do I think about this proposal? I think that it has potential.”

  “I would only agree to it myself,” Allister said seriously, “if I had your word, both verbal and written, that the boy Purcel would be named your heir and that my dalighter would have settled on her land and money. There would remain the question of a regent. Purcel will not reach his majority for another four years. If the ancestors call you to join them before that time, someone must be designated in advance. Would your people accept me? Would his mother accept a third party?”

  Tedric waved his hand to slow Allister down. “I can see that you have given this matter a great deal of tholight, as well you should since you have had twenty-some days to think about it. Let me reply to your comments one at a time.”

  “Very well, Uncle. Forgive my impetuosity. I have had few people with whom to discuss this matter. Queen Gustin requested that I keep it a state secret. Only myself, my wife, and the queen's advisor Tench are privy to the letter.”

  “Zorana has also kept her peace,” Tedric said, “although not without a certain gloating calm. Now, your first demand before you would agree to this alliance is that I name Purcel Archer my heir. I can see that. It would protect your dalighter to a certain extent, especially from her mother-in-law's vagaries of mood. If Zorana was to be queen with Purcel to follow her, she could always pass him by in favor of another. Very good. I could agree to naming Purcel my heir directly.

  “I could also agree to settling some property and goods specifically on your dalighter. Purcel is a warrior. Although we can hope that this alliance would make peace between our nations, Warriors do die in battle. Your dalighter should have some security of her own.

  “Regent would be a more difficult matter. I am not certain my people would accept you as sole regent nor do I like the idea of two regents. We have enough divisiveness without encouraging more. Zorana has proven herself able, but too willing to act outside of channels. I believe I would need to select from outside of all of those currently concerned in this matter. There would be too many hurt feelings otherwise.”

  Allister nodded. “I see—as well as someone who has only observed matters from outside can see, that is.”

  “I might have suggested Earl Kestrel,” the king said, “but that he involved himself by hunting out Lady Blysse and so involving himself.”

  “About her, Uncle…”

  “Yes?”

  “There are so many stories. What is the truth?”

  “The truth, as much as I am willing to admit,” the king said, a twinkle in his eye, “is that Lady Blysse—Firekeeper as she prefers to be called—is the genuine sole survivor of an expedition into the lands west of the Iron Mountains. She claims to have been raised by wolves. If you had seen her table manners when she first arrived you would have no doubt of the veracity of that statement.”

  Clearing his throat, Allister pressed, “I heard that she is followed everywhere by an evil familiar spirit in the shape of a giant wolf.”

  “That is partly trae,” the king conceded. “She is followed almost everywhere by an enormous grey wolf with blue eyes. If it is not a familiar spirit—as I believe it is not—then we must reconsider those old tales from the early days of colonization which claimed that the animals in those days were larger than any seen today.”

  Allister knew he
was skating on thin ice, but he must ask. “Her name is ‘Blysse.’ That was the name of Prince Barden's dalighter. Is she…”

  “Blysse,” the king interrupted, “is what Earl Kestrel named his feral foundling—one might say with the memory of my granddalighter in mind. Duchess Kestrel agreed to adopt the girl into the Kestrel House, therefore, Blysse can claim the title ‘Lady.’ As to whether or not she is my granddalighter … that remains to be seen.”

  “I see,” Allister grinned. “You are less blunt than my dear mother, Uncle.”

  “I have learned to be. I am a king.”

  “True. Rumor said that the name on that piece of paper—the one on which you named your heir—-is that of Lady Blysse. They say that you summoned her to you soon before your departure and met with her in private.”

  King Tedric bared his teeth in something too fierce to be a smile. “The latter part of that is tme. As to the former, I shall say to you what I have said to everyone else: nothing.”

  Allister leaned back in his chair, knowing that he had pushed as far as even his uncle's curious good humor would permit.

  “Shall we then turn to other matters, Uncle Tedric? Sir Tench hinted to me that Queen Gustin would very much like you to know that the smugglers operating through these paired cities of Hope and Good Crossing are not operating with her sanction. She wondered if some sort of agreement might be reached to limit their activities to the mutual benefit of our treasuries…”

  King Tedric nodded and motioned for the clerk to start taking notes. The rest of the morning passed in politely formal discussion of matters of state. Only as Allister was rising to leave did King Tedric push Zorana's letter over to him.

  “Don't forget this, Nephew. And give my best wishes to your family.”

  Allister smiled. “And give mine to yours, Uncle, to all of yours.”

  Even those, he tholight as he trooped down the stairs and across the courtyard, who run about like wild things and howl at the moon.

  DESPITE THE URGENCY OF THEIR BUSINESS, Firekeeper didn't awaken Elise at dawn, having learned from Derian that Hazel Healer was not likely to be able to meet with them until the morning was quite old. Moreover, it would look as strange as a wolf in the treetops if they were all to troop off to a perfume shop at that early hour with the ball still some days off.

  Knowing both more and less about magic than her companions assumed, Firekeeper needed no warning to be cautious about arousing Melina Shield's suspicions. So she and Blind Seer hunted, though the hunting was poor here on the edges of the town, and swam in a millpond some miles from the camp. Then they trotted back at a leisurely pace, arriving just in time for breakfast.

  Such rituals completed, they gathered Elise and Ninette and walked the track to town. The beaten dirt road was busy enough, but most of the traffic was related to the routine of the military. Exchanging greetings with those they knew, they made no secret of their destination, hiding their purpose in plain sight, as Derian had suggested.

  Hazel was waiting for them and ushered them into her private workroom. When they took seats beneath the hanging bunches of dried herbs, Firekeeper must fight a powerful urge to sneeze and, from his place beneath her chair, Blind Seer gmmbled protest at this olfactory assault.

  As soon as they were settled, Hazel began, her expression somewhat severe. “I understand from Derian's note that you wish to consult me about a matter of great delicacy and great secrecy. Let me save you some trouble. I do not dispense abortifacients except in extreme cases when the life of mother and child both are at risk.”

  Firekeeper was completely puzzled, but evidently what Hazel had said meant something more to the others. Derian turned vivid scarlet. Elise and Ninette both blushed and looked away. Only Doc remained composed. He replied:

  “Your assumption is quite reasonable, Mistress Healer, given what you know, but let me assure you that we have come to consult you about something quite different—although no less grave.”

  Hazel's severe expression vanished. Now she looked both worried and relieved.

  “Very well. You have my promise of silence. Start telling me what your problem is while I set a pot of tea brewing.”

  In deference to the pain Elise would experience telling her own story, Sir Jared began. Ninette volunteered specific de-tails and Firekeeper noticed with interest that she seemed to feel no pain whatsoever. Hazel noticed this as well and, as soon as the narrative was ended, she asked the maid:

  “You don't feel any pain, Ninette, even when you talk about specific aspects of the curse?”

  “No, Mistress Healer. My heart beats terribly fast and sometimes I feel so afraid that I think I will fall down in a dead faint, but I don't feel any pain.”

  “Then I must be right!” Derian said excitedly. “The betrothal stone—that's the means by which the sorceress is affecting Elise!”

  Ninette said, coloring slightiy, “I guess I should also admit that as soon as the Lady Melina started droning her curse, I looked away—buried my face in my hands. I don't know if that might have helped.”

  In response to the unasked question Elise volunteered, “I never looked away. I was curious and angry—I wanted to know what was going on. Another thing you should know, all through theritualNinette never stopped muttering prayers to her Society patron and to her ancestors. I was only aware of it afterwards, but when I think back on the situation, I remember the low drone of her voice behind me.”

  Ninette nodded in confirmation. “That's right, I did pray. Mother always talight me to do that when I had night fears. I guess I felt like a little girl again, faced with real sorcery.”

  Pouring tea, Hazel considered. Then she rose and, reaching up onto a very high shelf, took down a book.

  “Magical powers,” she said without preamble, “did not vanish from the world simply because Queen Zorana mled that higher sorcery would not be practiced in Hawk Haven. They still manifest today, mostly within families and then we only recognize magical power when it takes the shape of what we call talents.

  “My family has a strong talent for working with plants—the Green Thumb, as it is usually called. There are other talents: a touch of precognition or clairvoyance, perfect sense of direction, healing, a strong empathy for animals…”

  Firekeeper was surprised when Hazel paused and looked at her.

  “I wouldn't be at all surprised if Firekeeper has that last gift and maybe others. It would explain her survival and her ability to communicate with animals.”

  Derian, Elise, and Ninette looked as surprised as Firekeeper felt but Doc only nodded.

  “I'd tholight that might be the case, maybe because I have the healing talent myself. It would be impossible to test, of course. Firekeeper's own story of her upbringing provides an alternate explanation.”

  From his place on the floor Blind Seer commented to Firekeeper, “He speaks as if these talents are restricted to hu-mankind, but the Royal Beasts may have them as well. Ah, well. Doc is not a bad man, only filled with human arrogance toward other bloods.”

  Hazel, of course unaware of this comment, continued, “The House of the Eagle has never—to my knowledge—shown evidence of being talented. Neither have the Shields. However, Melina Shield's other parent…”

  “Her father is Stanbrook born,” Elise said.

  “I don't know much about what talents the various Great Houses might have,” Hazel said apologetically. “After Queen Zorana decreed a reign based on rejection of such Old World things as elaborate tides and magical power, even those famliies that had talents went out of their way to play them down.”

  Firekeeper tholight this was the time to ask something that had been troubling her.

  “Everyone say that Queen Zorana want no tides, but still there are king, queen, dlike, duchess, all and more. These seem like tides to me.”

  “Good point,” Doc answered, “but you should study how it was before Queen Zorana's reform. She eliminated some tides and the custom of one person bearing more than on
e tide. Before that, a single person might have five or six tides: King of this, Prince of that, Dlike of this, that, and the other thing, Baron of this…”

  “All one person?” Firekeeper asked, not at all certain she wasn't being teased.

  “All one person,” Doc assured her. “It's sort of a variation of the way you call me Doc, while my associates call me Sir Jared, and those who knew me when I was a boy and some of my friends call me Jared. Different names for different situations.”

  “It is easier for wolves,” Firekeeper snorted. “One name, one person.”

  “Unless you are the One,” Blind Seer reminded her. “Then you are the One Male or the One Female, but you still have a personal name. Our Pack's One Female was Shining Coat. I have this on the best authority. ”

  Firekeeper kicked him.

  “We're getting off the subject,” Elise said somewhat anxiously. “Mistress Hazel, you were saying that it is possible that Melina Shield might have inherited a talent for sorcery from House Kite.”

  “Yes, but there are other options as well.” Hazel opened the book in her lap and ran a finger down a closely written page. For once, Firekeeper regretted not being able to read, for the others clearly had some idea what Hazel was doing. At last she halted.

  “Here it is: trance induction.” Hazel looked up and continued, “The good news and the bad news is that from what you describe, Lady Melina may also be performing some-thing that, while rather like magic, is not magic at all. It is an art that enables one person to control another person's mind through suggestion. As with many other practices, trance induction fell out of favor after the retreat of the Old Countries, but some healers advocate it to help with the control of pain or certain detrimental impulses. That's why it's mentioned in this book.”

  “What does trance induction do?” Elise pressed. “Why is this good news and bad news? It sounds all good to me. If Lady Melina isn't a sorceress, we may be able to defeat her.”

  “The reason it isn't all good news,” Hazel replied levelly, “is that if legend is correct, all magic that isn't locked into a specific physical item ceases to function after the caster is dead. You remember what happened in the comic song about Timin and the Flying Goat, don't you?”