Wolf's Eyes

by Jane Lindskold

  Thinking of a father who disowned his youngest son for disobedience, Derian's expression grew unhappily thoughtful.

  “What are you thinking about, Derian Carter,” the king asked sharply. “Have I misjudged Norvin Norwood?”

  “No, Your Majesty,” Derian fumbled, then forged ahead. “I was wondering how you could… I mean why you… why you disowned Prince Barden.”

  The king looked angry for a moment, then sad. “I was hasty, infuriated that he would act so without my express permission, angry, too, that he did not trust that I had a place planned for him in the governing of Hawk Haven. I was younger then and maybe I beheved myself immortal. It has been so long—ten years or more are still ten years, even to a man of my age—that I am a stranger to that sour, proud man. I have lost both son and daughter. That changed me. Now, I would give anything to not have driven Barden away, but it is too late and my heir must come from among those.”

  He made a sweeping gesture at the dancers twisting through the latest intricate form.

  “What do you think of Lady Elise? Would she make a good queen?”

  “Please, Sire,” Derian begged. “I'm just a carter's son. I'm not fit to advise kings.”

  “That you would say that at all makes you fit. And you are not just a carter's son. Earl Kestrel does not hire dead weight. If he has kept you on it is because he sees good in you—good beyond your abiUty to coach Firekeeper. Now, will you disobey me? I want your opinion!”

  Derian chewed his lower Up before speaking. Despite the wine, he felt dreadfully sober, so sober that he knew he was out of his depth.

  “I know Elise mostly as a friend…” he began.

  “Good. Friends see sides of each other that elderly and terrifying great-uncles do not. Speak up, Derian! Or are you in love with her and afraid to admit it?”

  “No.” Derian straightened. “I'm not. I was taken with her at first—she's kind and sweet when you get to know her and she was the first noble lady I was close to, but now that I know her better I realize we're not suited. She's much better for me as a friend.”

  “So, you didn't cease to love her because you found fault in her?”

  “No, sir, not at all! What I loved was the idea of a titled lady with golden hair. When I got to know Elise I found she was much more than that—just a person.”

  King Tedric nodded. “And young men don't fall in love with people. I beUeve I understand. Tell me what you think of her as a potential queen.”

  It hadn't escaped Derian that the king was skipping his nieces and nephews and moving directly to their offspring. Was this because he had rejected the others or because he was asking Derian about those Derian was most likely to know well?

  “Elise,” Derian began slowly, “is a good person. She knows her way around the castie and its people already.”

  “Castie Flower,” the king murmured.

  Righdy guessing that this cryptic comment didn't need a reply, Derian continued:

  “That's already an advantage over Firekeeper. A few days ago, I'd have said that Elise's greatest weakness was a lack of courage, but now… “

  He trailed off, realizing he shouldn't say exactly how he had learned of Elise's deeper reserves.

  “Now I know differently. She may be a bit squeamish, but she's not lacking courage.”

  King Tedric didn't press Derian to clarify, but after a thoughtful pause during which he studied the young woman below as she whirled through the steps of a particularly fast dance, her face alight with laughter, he said:

  “So, you think Elise should be queen.”

  Derian blurted, “I don't think she wants to be queen, Sire. I think she might have once, but now I'm not so certain.”

  “And you don't think that someone who doesn't want to be monarch should be forced to do so.”

  Derian fumbled to explain, “Princess Caryl didn't want to go to Bright Bay and marry Prince Tavis and so that didn't work out too well. I was just thinking that this might be a bit the same.”

  “Hmm. And how about Jet Shield? Do you think he should be king?”

  “Him?” Derian couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice, no matter how he tried to school it. “He's too ambitious. He wants it too much.”

  “So I should neither choose someone who doesn't want the task nor someone who does. That is quite a conundmm, Mister Carter. How shall I resolve it?”

  Derian could feel himself turning bright red, but he pressed on, determined that if he was going to have to go through this peculiar interrogation he wouldn't flub it completely.

  “Your Majesty, what I'm trying to say is that the best candidate would be someone who wants to rale but for the good of Hawk Haven, not solely for his or her own good. Someone, like Elise, who doesn't want to rule is going to do a bad job because either she isn't going to pay attention to the small details or she's going to resent them.”

  King Tedric snorted. “Even I—and I wanted to be king—even I grow tired of those small details.”

  Derian persisted. “Someone who wants to rale because he'll have titles and honors…”

  “And power, don't forget power.”

  “And power. That type of person is equally a bad choice because he's going to make decisions based on how they'll affect his own importance. He's not going to care about how they affect the people who live under his rale. Eventually, they'll reaUze this. Common folk aren't as innocent as some of your noble folk believe.”

  “Yes. I know. My mother never let me forget that. I wish I had thought to drill that into my nieces and nephews, but then I never thought that I would be forced to pick one of them or their offspring to follow me. So, is Jet's only flaw his ambition?”

  Shrugging, feeling himself already in so far that he could not get in much farther, Derian said:

  “I think if he were made king no matter whose head wore the crown his mother would wield too great an influence.”

  “I saw you dancing with Melina earUer. So you don't like her?”

  Derian shook his head. “I don't know her well enough to say that, sir. I do know that her children respect her with a respect that is akin to fear.”

  “So you're offering me a criticism that would apply to any of Lord Rolfston's children—and perhaps to Rolfston him-self. You narrow my choices dramatically with that small statement.”

  Stubbornly Derian said, “One of the first to befriend Firekeeper was little Citrine. She made no secret that her mother commands more than a mother's respect. I don't know the others well, but I think the same must apply.”

  “Interesting thought, young Carter, and one not altogether aUen to my observations.”

  King Tedric added nothing more and Derian waited quietly. The orchestra and dancers were taking another inter-mission. As they milled about sipping their chilled wine or punch, their gazes—surreptitious or not—often rested on the king's dais.

  All at once, Derian's self-consciousness came back to him. When he glanced at the king, however, Tedric seemed un-aware of the scmtiny from below. Perhaps a king must learn to live with such continual observation. If so, Derian was suddenly glad that he had betrayed Firekeeper's weakness to the monarch. His wild wolf-woman could never live so.

  “Well, Derian Carter,” King Tedric said at last. “I had a mind to question you further. It is refreshing to be counseled by one who speaks only of individual merits and never of who is related to whom except as that is related to those merits.”

  Derian colored. “Thank you, Sire.”

  “Don't think for a moment that those relationships don't matter. They do. However, it is easy to forget that this one's daughter or that one's son is also a person possessed of personal weaknesses and strengths. Don't you forget that when you are older.”

  “No, Sire, I won't.”

  King Tedric stretched sUghtly and smiled benignly at the young man. “Now, you have given me good counsel. What do you wish for your reward? I offer you anything within reason.”

  “Nothing, Sire. I am h
onored, really.”

  “Tosh, of course you are, but still I wish to give you a gift”

  An idea slipped into Derian's mind, as wild and insane as any he had ever had. Even as he tried to dismiss it, he knew he would ask and accept the consequences.

  “Then, sir, I ask for the necklace that Lady Melina Shield is wearing this very moment, the one she always wears.”

  The expression in King Tedric's pale eyes was shrewd, not startled, and Derian wondered how much the old man knew, how much he merely suspected. All the king said, however, was:

  “I fear I cannot give you something that does not belong to me. If you so covet the necklace, why not have one made? Despite the pride with which Lady Melina wears it, it is not so impossibly unique.”

  Derian drew in a deep breath. It had been too much to hope that he and his friends’ problem would be so easily solved, but even as he nodded his acceptance of what the king had said Derian wondered if Tedric had just shown him a way out of at least part of their problem.

  Tedric continued, “Since you cannot think of something yourself, let me choose. Dirkin, come here.”.

  Sir Dirkin Eastbranch, who had been standing such silent witness to all their conversation that Derian had never noticed his presence, stepped forth.

  “Your Majesty?”

  “Give me one of the counselor rings. The men's ones.”

  Sir Dirkin reached into a leather pouch at his belt and drew forth a gold ring. The band bore the royal eagle cast directly into the metal. Set in the center was a cabochon-cut mby. King Tedric's personal emblem, an eight-pointed star, was incised into the stone and inlaid with a thin bead of gold.

  “Here you are, Derian Carter,” said King Tedric, fitting the ring onto Derian's right index finger. “You are now among those who may request my ear at any hour of day or night. I know that you will not abuse the privilege. Under-stand that this is a personal privilege. When I pass on to my ancestors, you may keep the ring, but the privilege will vanish unless the new monarch chooses to renew it. In return for this honor, I inflict on you the added burden of making yourself available to me when I fpel desire of your counsel.”

  For the second time in a very short while, Derian discovered that he could not speak. King Tedric chuckled.

  “A poor gift, you may think, giving you added duties under the guise of a reward.”

  Derian found his tongue. “No, Sire. Really. I am so honored. I don't…”

  “Don't worry too much,” King Tedric said and placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “Have the ring sized as soon as possible. You wouldn't want it to slip off.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “And say nothing of our conference to anyone—even to Earl Kestrel or Firekeeper. If asked, simply say that I was bored and wanted a bit of common conversation.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Now, Derian Carter, give me your arm and help me to the dance floor. The orchestra is warming up. I believe I will claim Lady Blysse for this dance. It will keep my contentious nieces and nephews guessing. Unfortunately, it will also raise poor Norvin's hopes unduly, but he is strong enough to survive the eventual disappointruent.”

  As Derian helped King Tedric down the few steps and signaled for Firekeeper to join them, he couldn't help thinking that the old man was rather calculating, even a bit wicked. It was an unsettling thought that maybe even a good king—or perhaps especially a good king—might need to be so.

  XXI

  ELISE AWAKENED THE MORNING after the ball aware that something momentous had occurred, but a moment passed before she remembered what had happened. Then she remembered: Derian and the count selor ring, King Tedric dancing the last dance of the evening with Firekeeper. The terrible fury in her father's eyes. How he'd refused to ride back to the encampment in the same carriage as Earl Kestrel and “those upstarts” even though it meant crashing into a carriage with Aunt Zorana, Nydia, and Purcel.

  Purcel had finally gotten out, saying he would walk back. He had never shown up back at the nobles’ enclave. Later they learned he had walked all the way back to his unit in his dress clothes rather than deal with his mother and uncle's fury.

  Elise thought that Purcel had been wise. The angry counsel, practically of war, between her father and Aunt Zorana had lasted long into.the night. They'd even invited Lady Melina and Lord Rolfston to join them. When Elise had dared speak up for Firekeeper, saying they couldn't very well blame her for accepting the king's invitation to dance, her father had sworn at her and sent her to her tent.

  Given how reserved Baron Archer usually was and how affable he'd been toward her since her engagement to Jet, Elise was truly hurt. Still, she'd kept her tears to herself until she had reached the safety of her curtained-off bedchamber. Then she had let them flow. Her father's man might report her collapse to Baron Archer, but at least no one could accuse her of acting like a child in public.

  Secretly, Elise had been rather glad to be sent away. She didn't want to hear the familiar bickering again. Moreover, knowing what she now did about Lady Melina, she had no desire to spend time in her company. Elise's only fear—a fear that returned to her with full wakefiilness—was that her father would forbid her to see Firekeeper and Derian.

  With her morning pot of tea, Ninette brought Elise word that Baron Archer had requested her company as soon as she was dressed.

  “Did he say ‘request'?” Elise asked. “Or are you being polite?”

  “He said ‘request,’ “Ninette assured her. “And he seems milder this morning. Perhaps he's sorry for shouting at you that way.”

  “Perhaps,” Elise replied, but she didn't feel very hopeful. Baron Archer had always been vaguely disappointed that his heir was female—and a softhearted female as well. When Aurella contracted an illness similar to that which had rendered Queen Elexa sterile, he had resigned himself to not having sons, acting instead as a second father to Purcel, who was as similar to his bookish father as Elise was like Ivon.

  Ivon Archer was waiting stem and formal in his military uniform when Elise stepped out of the pavilion.

  “Good morning, Elise.”

  She dropped a curtsy. “Good morning, Father.”

  He frowned at her excessive formality, but he couldn't precisely chide her for being too polite. Instead he granted:

  “Come, walk with me. I wish to speak with you about last night.”

  Elise obeyed with deceptive tameness. Still, her heart skipped a beat when she realized that her father was walking toward that same cluster of stones where she had witnessed Melina Shield ensorcelling Sapphire and Jet. What would she do if Melina was there? Then she calmed herself. With al-most all the resident nobles living in canvas tents, those rocks were the obvious place for a private conference.

  Indeed, when they reached the rocks, the area appeared to be empty. Elise, however, spared a moment to peek into the hidden space from which she had unintentionally spied on Lady Melina, garnering a strange look from her father in the process. The space appeared to be empty and Baron Archer did not comment on her actions. His mind was busy with other matters.

  “Elise,” he said, “you disappointed me last night when you spoke up for that foundling of Norvin Norwood's. I know you have befriended her—though 1 am at a loss to under-stand why—but that is no reason to side with her against your own kin.”

  With effort, Elise kept her silence. Silence, her mother had once told her, was the best weapon when your opponent had all the strength. She wondered now if Lady Aurella had meant specifically her husband.

  Baron Archer continued, “Yet, you will have an opportunity to redeem yourself.”

  Here it comes, Elise thought. Stop seeing that girl and her low-bred companions and …

  She was so busy with her own thoughts that she almost missed what her father was saying.

  “Since Earl Kestrel's party trusts you, you will have the opportunity to continue to call on them. I fear that my evi-dent anger last night makes such casual social
contact on my part suspect.”

  He frowned, but that was as far as he was going to come to admitting that his behavior had been rude and ungentle-manly toward either daughter or peer.

  “Therefore, I order you to continue your visits. Attempt to learn everything you can about their plans. Find out if the king has made any promises. Whether King Tedric intends to make Lady Blysse his bride, the bride of one of Seagleam’ s brats, or mler in her own right will affect my own actions.”

  Momentarily his expression turned pleading. “Remember, Elise. I am worried about this not only for myself, but for you as well. I would like to see you made queen with Jet as your consort. No foundling should be able to take what is ours by blood right.”

  Elise, however, refused to be mollified. Ironically, though her father's commands were the opposite of what she had dreaded moments before, she was coolly enraged.

  “So, a few hours ago I was a traitor to you,” she said, her tones as measured as the steps of last night's waltzes. “Today you wish me to spy on my friends. I see you still see me as a traitor, but betrayal is fine as long as it is to your advantage.”

  Baron Archer gaped at her. “Elise, you misunderstand… I spoke in anger last night.”

  Elise ducked within a bubble of almost preternatural calm, speaking with her gaze fastened on the towering stone walls of the distant fortress.

  “You did,” she agreed, “but your very words to me a few moments ago show how poorly you regard me. Very well. If you feel that way, you have your choice. Permit me to redeem myself in my own fashion or disown me as your heir.”

  Baron Archer began to speak, but she breezed on as if she hadn't heard him.

  “Just remember before you lose your temper and make such a drastic move that I am your sole child. Without me, that crown you crave so deeply is lost to you. Remember, too, that King Tedric came to regret similar rashness.”