Wolf's Eyes

by Jane Lindskold

  Everyone but Firekeeper nodded and she decided this wasn't the time to ask for details.

  'Trance induction is used to create a suggestible state in the mind of the subjects,” Hazel continued. “When the subjects have been made suggestible, then they can be convinced to do almost anything—especially if deep inside they wish to do this thing anyhow. Since the person's own mind is really in charge—just under someone else's direction—breaking the power of the person who induced the trance doesn't remove the suggestion any more than a newly bralt table reverts to raw lumber after the carpenter hangs up his tools.”

  “Oh.” Elise's small moan of dismay was echoed around the room.

  Hazel frowned. “That's why it isn't necessarily a good thing if Lady Melina is using trance induction. If she is, she has been working on the minds of her primary subjects—her children and, I would guess, her husband and close servants—for years. That hold will not be instandy broken. The only way to break that hold would be to convince her subjects that she has somehow lost her power over them.”

  Derian drammed his fingers against his teacup, making a little ringing sound. “I suppose we could tell them,” he said dubiously. “tell them about this trance induction, I mean.”

  “Lady Elise,” Hazel ordered suddenly, “you've heard my explanation. Now, talk about how Lady Melina laid the curses.”

  Obediently, Elise began to speak, but the sudden twist of pain that contorted her mouth was an eloquent answer to Hazel's test.

  “But it must be sorcery,” she protested. “Lady Melina only spoke with me briefly. How could she have induced a trance in such a short time?”

  Hazel looked at Elise with a trace of pity. “Because, Lady Elise, you were quite willing to believe that Lady Melina had power to command you and because she was telling you to do something you already were inclined to do. What newly engaged young woman doesn't feel pride in her betrothal token and want to wear it always? Lady Melina simply reinforced the impulse you already held in your heart.”

  Elise looked sad. “I wonder if she knew about Jet's un-reliability and decided she'd better assure my loyalty herself? If I'd been a stranger who knew nbthing of her reputation as a sorceress, then Lady Melina's task would have been more difficult.”

  “I think so,” Hazel agreed. “Of course, it might have been sorcery and the jet pendant the focus for her charm.”

  “Take off the necklace,” Firekeeper urged. “Talking was easier then yesterday, I think.”

  Elise lifted off the necklace with its jet wolf's head and set it on the table next to her empty teacup. Firekeeper wondered if anyone else saw the trembling of Elise's hands.

  “Lady Melina said…” Elise began tentatively, “that if anyone spoke of what she had done…”

  She stopped and frowned. “The pain is less but still there.”

  “So we don't have a definite answer,” Derian sighed. “It could be that a spell has been laid on Lady Elise or it could be that she has been made to beUeve that a spell has been laid on her. What do we do?”

  Silence followed through which Firekeeper could hear the shoptalk without, the comings and goings of people buying medicines, perfumes, and spices. Seeing that no one else was going to offer a suggestion, she said:

  “Why not do something for both? Melina use the pendants on her necklace to cast spell or to make beUeve she cast spell. If we get necklace and destroy with great fuss,” she looked doubtful, uncertain that she was expressing herself well, “then the way of the control would be broken, too.”

  Doc's dour expression lightened. “You have a point there, Firekeeper. That necklace is the key—at least to Lady Melina's control of her son and dalighters.”

  “But what Firekeeper suggests is very dangerous,” Ninette piped up, trembhng at the very tholight. “Lady Melina never lets that necklace out of her sight. Her maid said once she wears it even in the bath and to bed.”

  Firekeeper sprang to her feet. “So we take it!”

  “That may be what we have to do,” Derian agreed. He didn't look happy. “I wish we could test the effectiveness beforehand.”

  “Could we,” Elise said, “have my necklace duplicated? A substitute she has never touched wouldn't have the same power, would it?”

  Firekeeper decided not to mention things she had heard about the sympathetic resonances between types of stone. Maybe that was just a wolf legend and didn't apply to human magic. In any case, she tholight that Melina was more likely to be a trickster than a sorceress. She hoped so—her own knowledge of human sorcery was a bit shaky.

  Hazel extended her hand. “Let me see the carving. If it isn't too complicated, I know someone who might be able to do the work. Jet isn't a terribly hard substance, thank the Dog.”

  That same almost invisible quiver in her hand, Elise picked up the pendant and handed it to the healer.

  “It's intricate, yes,” Hazel murmured after a few moments’ inspection by the sunlit window. “But my friend may be able to do the job. He's a local, but I've known him for a long time and I think he's trustworthy.”

  “Think?” Derian asked.

  “Yes. He dabbled in some shady deaUng, usually with smugglers and thieves, but in his own business he has a very good reputation.”

  Elise decided. “I'll do it. Thank the Lynx for this ball! It makes all sorts of strange shopping trips possible.”

  “Derian,” Hazel said, “you know your way around Hope. I'll write you a note saying you represent someone who needs private work done. You can ran over there, get my friends's answer direcdy, and then retrieve Elise. In the meantime, ladies,” she smded, “can I interest you in any of my wares?”

  APPARENTLY THE JEWELER—one Wain Cutter—was quite accustomed to confidential commissions. He expressed only slight surprise when Elise explained what she wanted done.

  “UsuaUy, i get asked to do something like this,” he said, peering narrowly at the wolf's-head carving, “after the lady or gentleman has lost the piece. Then all I have to go on is a description. This is much easier.”

  Taking out a thin piece of charcoal, he started making a sketch on a piece of smooth white board. Firekeeper moved behind him so she could watch, fascinated as he drew the piece first in a front view then in both right and left profiles.

  “It's a nice bit of carving,” Wain said as he worked. “Very nice, but after seeing this young lady's companion I can think of a half-dozen things I'd do differendy.”

  “Don't,” Elise pleaded. “It must be as much like the original as you can make it.”

  “I understand,” Wain said peaceably. “Good luck for you that I already have some nice jet in stock. Got itfroma trader who came down from the Iron Mountains. Prime stuff and I can offer you a good price.”

  Derian stepped up then and Firekeeper let her attention drift as the intricacies of haggUng began. She knew she should make an effort to learn this skill, even reaUzed that the thrill of getting a good price for something must be simUar to that of a successful hunt, but she couldn't escape the feeUng that the strong should take, not ask. Even her own acceptance that she was not one of the strong hadn't under-mined her faith in this division of property.

  Blind Seer, apparently asleep out in a patch of sunlight in the gem carver's yard, sensed her restlessness.

  “What are we going to do about this Melina Shield?”

  Firekeeper moved to sit next to him. “I wish I knew. Things were simpler in the wolflands.”

  “Only because you were a pup and others made your decisions for you.”

  “Hmm.” She considered and accepted the veracity of this. “Still, I favor the simple solution. We should attack this Melina, you and I, some dark night and take her necklace. Or, even better, I could slip into her tent and take it while she sleeps.”

  “You could,” the wolf agreed. “Then what?”

  “Then we destroy it and the spell is broken.”

  “And if it is not a spell, if it is this trance induction?”

 
“Still, Melina will no longer have the necklace. Her frightened plips will see she no longer has power over them.”

  Blind Seer snorted. “They think the power is in her, not in the necklace. That will do nothing and she will have an-other necklace done. No, Little Two-legs, the answer is not so simple.”

  “Maybe not,” Firekeeper agreed with a sigh. “/ haven't forgotten the promise I made to King Tedric. Each night I prowl, but no one seems to hunt him. The attack on Sapphire was the only attack we have seen and I know too little of cities. Everyone seems to think that such human predators thrive therein like beetles beneath a rotting carcass.”

  “True. But we will not cease in our vigilance.”

  “Of course not. Besides, I like roaming about at night.”

  She rested her head on the wolf's flank and lay there with her eyes closed, trying to come up with solutions. From in-side the shop she heard Elise say to Derian, her tone distinctly wistful:

  “I wish I was Firekeeper. Look at her there, not a worry in the world.”

  Firekeeper didn't disabuse her. Let Elise take comfort in such fancies if she could. Soon, she suspected, they all would have very little time for any consideration of such niceties.

  ON SOME LEVELS, Prince Newell Shield was a very happy man. Through discreet questioning, he had received the impression that his pet Stonehold generals were leaping through their hoops of fear and superstition just as he had planned. At least one courier had been dispatched to their central command and carrier pigeons had been sent in ad-vance of the courier.

  Without telling him anything of this, General Yuci had pleaded with Newell to delay any permanent alliance between Bright Bay and Hawk Haven. When, later, Yuci ex-pressed his delight that the ball had been scheduled for several days after King Tedric and Dlike Allister's initial meeting and thanked Newell for using his influence to assist their cause, Newell accepted his thanks, not wanting to embarrass the good man, even though logistical concerns—rather than any machinations on his part—had been the reason for the delay.

  He was less happy about events within King Tedric's own court. On the afternoon following his second meeting with Allister Seagleam, King Tedric had summoned Zorana Archer to wait upon him in his chambers within the Fortress of the Watchful Eye. The noblewoman had gone to the meeting with a triumphant glow in her eye and a proud arch to her neck—reminding her sometime lover rather of a war-horse. She had returned with the air of a beaten cur.

  Rumor had quickly spread—for King Tedric had not kept their conference any great secret—that she had been severely berated for usurping his prerogatives. The king had not specificaUy said that Zorana had rained the chances of one of her sons and dalighters being privileged with a marriage alliance, but bets around camp were firmly against her.

  In her disgrace, Zorana had focused her attention on grooming her son and dalighter for the ball. She was also avoiding Newell, though whether out of anger or embarrassment, the princé “Wasn't certain. Hefiguredhe would smooth things out during the ball, when his attentions would be interpreted by observers as mere courtesy.

  Newell was unwilUng to trust to Stonehold alone for his success. There was still too much harmony in the Hawk Haven encampment for his taste. Lady Elise was treating Lady Blysse more like a sister than a rival for the crown. Sapphire Shield was speaking to her cousin again. Elise remained rather cool to Jet, but that was understandable given that the young idiot had been foolish enough to shame her by going to a public brothel.

  The two other girls—Nydia and Opal—seemed to be treating the unfolding events as if they were a drama which they were observing rather than living. Maybe he could do some-thing with that. The men—other than Jet—were pretty much out of his reach. Earl Kestrel, Baron Archer, and Purcel Tme-heart all had been dutifully attending to their commands within the army—eager, no doubt, to show the king what responsible and mature kings or regents they would make.

  As if they were all carved pieces on a game board, Newell moved this one here, considered pressing that one there Over and over, he arrived at a plan only to reject it. Finally, only two pieces remained: Jet and Lady Blysse.

  Could he contrive to make it appear that Jet and Blysse were romantically entangled? He rejected that almost immediately. Blysse barely spoke to Jet and Jet seemed to have lost his balls since the night his sister was assaulted.

  Maybe Newell should entice Jet out. Late…

  The pieces of the puzzle began to lock into place. Out late… Behaving shamefully… What would little Blysse—that dangerous Firekeeper—do if she saw Jet with his arms around a couple of light ladies? Wouldn't it be reasonable for her to fly into a fury at this added insult to her beloved friend? Consider what her wolf had done to one of Sapphire's assailants. And, of course, there would be a witness, unimpeachable as daylight: Prince Newell Shield himself.

  The prince laughed, heartened once more. Now he simply needed to find a way to put his plan into action. It would take honing, especially developing a way to confirm that Lady Blysse would not have a convenient alibi for her whereabouts at the time of the attack. Still, the rewards were too great for him not to attempt to carry this out.

  Surely if Lady Blysse killed Jet that would end her friend-ship with Elise. Sapphire, no matter how grateful for Blysse's role in saving her own life, would certainly be infuriated. She might even challenge Blysse to a duel. That would be just lovely. They might both end up dead or maimed. And as an added bonus, everyone would be distracted from what-ever Stonehold might be stirring up.

  Newell smiled and resisted the impulse to mb his hands together like a craftsman anticipating a day in his workshop. Step One: Talk to Jet. Step Two: Find a way to get Lady Blysse out of the way. Step Three: Sit back and enjoy the bloodshed.

  Glancing across the encampment, he saw the king's carriage moving across the grounds, doubtless taking the king to another secret or semi-secret conference. Newell shook his head sadly.

  The king really should have kept him closer at hand. It was really Tedric's own fault that the prince was left with so much time to pursue his own plans. He considered telling Tedric this at an appropriate moment and smiled. That news might even trigger the necessary fatal heart attack. Wouldn't that be perfect!

  XX

  DESPITE COMPLAINTS FROM BOTH staff and parllf ticipants that they had not been given enough time to III prepare, the ball was held on the third day following King Tedric's first meeting with Dlike Allister Seagleam of Bright Bay. Obviously, Derian mused as he rubbed potish into dress shoes bolight especiaUy for the occasion, there were advantages to being a king.

  Such tholights distracted him from the fact that he was distinctiy nervous about his role in this evening's planned entertainment. He would have been content to attend as he had now attended so many grand functions—as Firekeeper's nearly invisible servant.

  At first that invisibiUty had bothered him, but now he admitted there were times that he reveUed in it. Unnoticed, he heard and saw things that no one bothered to hide from a servant.

  He knew, for example, though he had spoken of it to no one, that Lady Zorana was carrying on a flirtation, if not more, with Prince Newell. He knew that Lady Sapphire's maid took snuff—a thing that would horrify her mistress. He knew that Baron Ivon Archer had a fondness for strong brandy in his evening cup of tea—and that sometimes he skipped the tea completely.

  Derian was honest enough with himself to admit that he might not be so happy with his state if there were not plenty of people above the level of servant who treated him as an equal. His early hopeless crash on Elise had faded and now he felt about her as he might a sister. Doc had not put on airs with his return to society and remained the same forth-right and direct man he had been on the road west. And Firekeeper remained impossibly herself.

  Tonight, however, Derian must leave off his servant's anonymity and step onto the floor as a member of the party. Someone—he suspected Firekeeper—had told Earl Kestrel that Derian was an excellent dancer. K
nowing that many of the officers invited to attend would not wish to dance with any but those whose political loyalties they were certain of, the earl had commanded Derian to join the party, to fill in where needed so that no lady need stand out more than one dance.

  “Lucky me,” Derian muttered; then he felt instandy ashamed.

  Earl Kestrel had been generous, standing the bill for an entire costume beginning with a new tricorn hat and including a white raffled shirt, a tailored waistcoat cut from brown and green brocade, dark green knee-breeches, raw silk stockings, and the very same wide-buckled shoes that Derian had just finished mbbing to the satin poUsh that his father had insisted on for the best of their horse leather.

  Once dressed, Derian joined Earl Kestrel. Out of his cavalry commander's uniform for the first time since they had left Eagle's Nest, the earl was dressed in court attire. His dark blue knee-breeches might have been bolight in town, but the waistcoat striped in Kestrel blue and red with a hovering hawk embroidered on the right breast must be from his own wardrobe. Derian did not put it past Valet to have found room to pack the waistcoat away among more practical attire—just in case.

  When Derian arrived, Valet was setting Earl Kestrel's tri-corn on his head, just as carefully as if he were finishing a work of art.

  “You will do, my lord,” Valet said, surveying the final effect with muted satisfaction. “I suppose one cannot expect too much when forced to attire in a tent.”

  Earl Kestrel gave one of his rare snules. “I am certain J look fine.” Seeing Derian he added, “Run your eye over that tall redhead, though to my way of seeing, he looks quite a bit finer than the sunburned young man who has been with me these past weeks.”

  “Good evening, Earl Kestrel,” Derian said, flabbergasted at this unaccustomed praise. Valet winked at him and adjusted the line of Derian's waistcoat.