Once within the castle grounds, Firekeeper made not for the towering fortress in which the king resided, but for the low-walled kitchen gardens. As these walls were meant mostly to hide the mundane herb and vegetable gardens from the sight of those who would walk among the roses or through the intricate knot gardens, their gates were not locked.
Firekeeper knew the kitchen gardens well—having frequented them the summer before King Allister's War—and now she made her way through the mazes of walls and buildings to where a small cottage nestled among gnarled fruit trees. These were bare now, picked clean of even the withered leavings of the harvest, but Firekeeper had seen them bent beneath their bounty and welcomed them like old friends.
Most of the cottage's windows were shuttered against the cold, but a small one near the front door remained open, though curtains were drawn against the glass within. Through this translucent aperture, Firekeeper glimpsed the warm reddish light of a fire not yet banked to coals.
She lifted the knocker—a clever thing shaped like a hummingbird nestled in a flower—and rapped several times, enjoying the sound as the bird fell against the wide-spread petals of the bronze blossom.
Her sharp hearing caught the sound of a chair being pushed back from a table, the sound of footsteps assisted by a cane. Then she saw the curtain pushed back from the window as the occupant sought to see who waited without. Some bit of mischief made her stand away from the window, but the door was opened nonetheless and a strong though aged voice began:
"Robyn! How many times have I told you…"
The remonstrance, delivered with firmness but not anger, cut off in midphrase. The cottage's occupant, a rather bent woman with a face like a withered apple haloed in wispy white hair, said instead:
"Dan… Firekeeper! Out in the cold and snow, and with bare feet and head! Come in, child, and warm yourself by the fire."
Firekeeper obeyed, for though there had been little snow since she left the mountains, the stone flags of the path were like ice. The air temperature without was not unbearable for one who had been climbing walls and the like, but it was brisk when one stopped.
Blind Seer paused at the threshold as if uncertain that the invitation included him, but the old woman waved him in as well.
"Come in, come in!" she said to the wolf, glancing up and around and into the tree branches, "and the falcon, too, if she's with you."
"Elation is not," Firekeeper said. "She has gone to look about, maybe for Derian."
"She'll find him at his parents' house, I believe," the old woman said, leading them into the cottage's central room and clearing her dinner dishes from a table by the fire as she continued, "Though not for much longer. Derian takes service with Earl Kestrel this winter, teaching riding and helping assess the stables."
"You have seen him?" Firekeeper asked.
"He visited, dearie," came the reply as the old woman moved the teapot over the fire to heat, "a few days after the wedding. Timin had some small business with Prancing Steed Stables and Derian chose to run the errand."
She turned and held open her arms.
"Now give this old lady a hug and tell her where you have been and what you've been up to."
Gladly, Firekeeper hugged her. Holly Gardener had become her friend at a time when the feral woman knew few she trusted to value her for herself, rather than out of any hope of personal gain. Holly was no noblewoman; her family's place as the castle's gardeners was secure. Thus she had accepted Firekeeper simply as a girl who wanted to learn gardening.
The former head gardener for the castle, Holly had retired some years before, passing the job on to her son, Timin. Both mother and son possessed the Green Thumb, a talent that assured that these walled gardens would produce more and better fruit and flowers than could be expected under even the best of ordinary care.
From Holly, Firekeeper had learned something of the mysteries involved in growing rather than hunting one's food, and familiarity had not diminished the high respect she felt for the old woman's knowledge.
Once she had released Holly from an enthusiastic embrace, Firekeeper nestled on the hearth rug and leaned back against Blind Seer, who lay watching the flames through slit eyes.
"I been up to mountains west," she said in answer to Holly's question. As she framed the sentence, she was vaguely aware that her grammar had suffered from disuse.
"So Derian told me," Holly replied. "He said that your folks needed you."
Firekeeper smiled, pleased at how Derian had related what to most would be rather odd information.
"They did," she said.
"And are they well?"
"All well enough." Firekeeper couldn't talk about the council of the Royal Beasts, but she saw no reason for not talking about her own pack. "One new pup not lived through spring—fell into runoff creek and drowned. Another pup died in fall when it not see an angry snake, but other young are well. The Whiner is no longer scrawny, but grows into a fine she-wolf."
Blind Seer thumped his tail in agreement. He'd been completely surprised by the improvement in his younger sister. When they'd left, it had been anyone's bet whether the yearling would make it through another summer.
"One other—Blind Seer's older brother by one litter—has come back from travels, but should go out again. The pack is strong and Mother says that no pups this year to raise the little ones stronger."
Holly, accustomed to Firekeeper's somewhat peculiar sentence structure—and probably the only person to whom Firekeeper had talked about the family she had left behind—followed this fairly well.
"You look well, too, dearie," Holly said. "Was your family proud of you?"
"Very," Firekeeper said a trace complacently.
Holly handed the wolf-woman a cup of rose-hip tea and took another for herself.
"And now?"
Firekeeper reflected that when she desired to do so Holly could go after information as if she were digging for potatoes—directly, but without a bruise or scrape left in passing. It was a different form of tact than the misdirection common in the court, and the wolf-woman rather liked it.
"Now," Firekeeper said, "I find Derian. You say he go to Earl Kestrel this winter?"
"That's what he told me."
Firekeeper frowned. Elation was actually not seeking Derian—she was trying to find out whether the stolen artifacts were still warehoused in Port Haven. If they were, having Derian scheduled to go west and north to Norwood lands, rather than east and south to the coastal city, would be difficult.
She shrugged the thought away. There was nothing she could do to change that now.
"I find Derian," the wolf-woman repeated, "but I have problem in that I not know how to find Derian and I think that Blind Seer not be welcome in the city."
"True," Holly replied, adding a dollop more honey to her tea. "Honestly, child, you wouldn't be very welcome either. Have you taken a look at yourself?"
"Not but in water," Firekeeper admitted, "and then not long or hard."
"I thought not," Holly tutted. "You're a mess."
Firekeeper was indignant.
"I washed!"
"I'm sure you did," Holly agreed, "but dipping into a stream here and there, and scrubbing off the worst of the mess does not a proper grooming make."
"She's right," Blind Seer commented. "Now that I see you in human company, you look positively molting."
Firekeeper hit him, but the wolf continued to snigger.
Holly accepted this incomprehensible act on the young woman's part with the calm of one who had seen the like before.
"Happily," the old woman continued, "this cottage has some amenities. I insisted on them when I gave Timin the Head Gardener's house."
"Amenities?" Firekeeper asked.
"In this case," Holly replied, "that means a tin tub, a kettle big enough to heat water in, and plenty of soap. Hop to and we'll get you set. You can wear one of my dresses, and I'll see if anything can be done about those leathers. If you're good and quick, I bel
ieve there is an apple pie somewhere about and some mutton stew."
Firekeeper sighed. A hot bath would feel good, but somehow she felt as if she would be washing off more than travel dirt in the water. Still, Holly was right. She couldn't stay as she was and not cause embarrassment or worse for her human friends.
Jumping to her feet, she went to pump water into the kettle.
Firekeeper slept on the hearth rug in front of the fire and had to admit—even if only to herself—that the blanket Holly gave her to put over herself felt good.
When morning came, Holly offered her use of one of Holly's own gardening dresses.
"It isn't very big," she admitted, "but then neither are you, though I think you've grown since I saw you last."
Firekeeper, her mouth full of bread and honey, nodded. She knew she had, mostly from needing to have her clothing altered.
"My other clothes?" she asked.
"I haven't had a chance to see if I can get them cleaned and mended."
There was a stubbornness in the old lady's expression that made Firekeeper think that she wasn't likely to see that particular set of vest and breeches again. She accepted the use of a dress—a rather shapeless smock of brown homespun that hung to midcalf on her—but none of Holly's shoes would come close to fitting the wolf-woman.
"That fine," Firekeeper said. "I have gone without for long."
After Firekeeper was dressed and fed, and Holly had given up on trying to make some order out of her knife-cut hair, they headed for town.
"I do wish you'd wear a bonnet," Holly sighed, but Firekeeper flatly refused. She was beginning to think that hats—like shoes—probably had their place, but she couldn't see how this was one of them.
Holly had come up with a simple solution to the problem of Blind Seer.
"Put him on a leash," she said. "I still find it astonishing what people will accept if they think it is under control."
Firekeeper took the old woman's advice. While Blind Seer wasn't absolutely thrilled with the collar and leash they rigged for him, he was willing to accept the arrangement.
The gardens were nearly empty when they crossed to the unobtrusive gate used by the staff. There was no need, now that the hard frost had killed most of the annuals, for the garden staff to get out early to tend to anything.
The guard at the gate started from drowsy contemplation of the steam rising from his mug of tea when he saw the two women and the wolf approaching.
"Good morning, Goody Holly!" he said, doing his best to hide his surprise. "And good morning, Lady Blysse."
Firekeeper nodded gravely. She knew the man slightly—he had been among those who had fought in King Allister's War.
"Good morning, Rush," she said. "Is your leg better?"
"Healing, healing," he replied, obviously pleased that she had remembered. "And your injuries?"
"All well," she said.
Holly snorted at this. The evening before, when bathing Firekeeper, she had said a great deal about people who would let a "mere slip of a girl go running about with scars like that hardly mended."
Firekeeper had let the criticism pass. She took a curious pleasure in the way the old lady fussed over her—perhaps because all Holly could do was fuss. It might have been different if Holly had possessed the power to stop Firekeeper from doing what she wished.
Rush didn't ask any questions, having become, like most of those who served with King Tedric's forces, accustomed to the wolf-woman's odd comings and goings. Giving the trio a hearty wish for a good day, he sent them on.
"And," Holly said as soon as they were descending the road from the castle, "he'll be telling what he saw to the next person who uses the gate—if he doesn't abandon his post to pass on the word. I hope you had no reason for wanting your coming kept secret."
"None," Firekeeper said.
She didn't feel much like talking. Although she had grown more accustomed to human cities and towns, Eagle's Nest remained the largest she had visited. The towering two- and three-story buildings made her feel shut in. The streets thronged—at least to her way of thinking—with foot traffic filled her with a desire to bolt.
Blind Seer didn't like it any better than she did and hung close to her side, growling or whimpering occasional rude comments.
Holly guided them through streets too narrow for any but foot traffic—knowing that Blind Seer would cause the most panic if he was encountered by horses or oxen. Firekeeper thought that the old gardener was enjoying this small adventure quite a bit. Even though Holly leaned heavily on her cane, her steps were steady and brisk.
When they reached the corner on which the Carter family's house stood, Holly had Firekeeper and Blind Seer wait in an alley along the back of the gardens while she went and rang the bell.
"Derian might not be in," she explained, "and there's no need to cause a fuss."
Firekeeper hunkered down and waited, her head against Blind Seer's flank. From the other side of the white-painted fence she could hear chickens fussing. Doubtless they'd somehow become aware of the wolf and were just smart enough to be afraid.
"They probably think you the biggest fox ever," she said, trying to lighten both of their moods.
Blind Seer, who had dined lightly on the remnants of the mutton stew, only growled.
Derian's familiar voice called out from the back door of the house.
"Come on in, you two!" he said. "We've warned the cat and the cook."
They emerged from the alley to find Derian unlatching the side gate, a welcoming grin lighting his face. He was dressed in working clothes: rough trousers, a smock, and scuffed boots—all smelling strongly of horse. His red hair was drawn back with a leather thong rather than the black ribbon he had worn at court. All in all, he was a comforting sight.
Firekeeper saw Derian's grin broaden at her attire. Then he frowned slightly as he looked at her hair.
"You've chopped off your hair again," he said sternly.
"Had to," she replied. "It got in my eyes."
"And just when I had you passing in company," he said, but there was laughter in his voice. "Come inside. I want you to meet my mother and my sister. Father and Brock have already gone to the stables, but I stayed here to help old Toad with shifting some timber."
"Good thing," Firekeeper said.
She felt suddenly shy. Derian had told her about both Vernita and Damita, speaking of them with great fondness. For a moment, she wished she had done as Holly wished and found more suitable attire. Then she straightened and followed Derian into the house.
They entered through a broad, bright room smelling of bread. She remembered how Holly's loaf had been brought to her by her grandson, Robyn, and the numerous busy bakeries they had passed on their way through town. It seemed to her that Derian's family must be fairly well off if they possessed their own ovens.
A stout woman with greying brown hair, her blue-flowered dress covered by a full apron, curtsied stiffly as they came through.
"Cook," Derian said with easy courtesy, "this is my friend, Blysse Norwood. Firekeeper, this is Evie, our cook and housekeeper—our family's Steward Silver."
Firekeeper, who greatly respected Steward Silver, gave Evie Cook a deep curtsy. Cook suddenly dimpled.
"Pleased to meet you, Lady Blysse."
They passed through the kitchen to a front room that nearly matched the kitchen in size. A long table stood at one end; comfortable chairs were clustered at the other. A fire burned merrily in a tall stone fireplace, adding its light to what poured through a multipaned window that looked out into the street.
A tall, elegantly graceful woman rose as they came in, gesturing for the girl next to her to do the same. Both mother and daughter shared Derian's red hair. Vernita's showed some threads of silver, but Damita's was as bright as polished copper. The three woman curtsied all at once and somehow this broke the solemn mood.
Vernita smiled at Firekeeper.
"We've heard much about you, Lady Blysse. Please, make yourself com
fortable."
Damita, her gaze on Blind Seer—though in fascination rather than fear—nodded.
"I about you too," Firekeeper managed.
Holly, seated in a chair near the hearth, chuckled.
"Our girl here isn't at her best for talking until she gets to know you," she explained. "I recall when she first started haunting my gardens. She'd climb up on the wall and stare down at my digging, looking for all the world like an oversized cat."
Firekeeper, remembering from some vague lesson in etiquette that the others would not sit unless she did so first, plopped down near Holly's feet.
Damita's eyes widened. Firekeeper saw Vernita nudge her daughter covertly, so covertly that the wolf-woman probably wouldn't have even noticed if she hadn't been on the receiving end of similar nudges so many times.
"May I offer you refreshment, Lady Blysse?" Damita said quickly, red flooding her cheeks.
"Am thirsty," Firekeeper replied, "and, please, am Firekeeper to Derian's family—not Lady Blysse."
Damita smiled and headed into the kitchen, emerging again so quickly with a tray of tea, cookies, and sliced bread that Evie Cook must have had it ready and waiting.
Passing out refreshments took the rest of the awkwardness from the meeting, especially after Firekeeper had fed Blind Seer several slices of bread.
"He's so dainty!" Damita exclaimed.
"Sometimes," Firekeeper agreed.
"You wouldn't think so," Derian laughed, "if you'd ever seen him go after a hunk of raw meat. Hard to say who was sloppier when I met them—Blind Seer or Firekeeper."
Vernita gave her son a disapproving glance, so Firekeeper came to the rescue.
"Is true," she admitted. "Derian have much trouble with me."
They chatted until the tea and cookies were gone; then Holly said that she really must return to the castle. Firekeeper turned then to Derian and—under the cover of Vernita's polite parting requests that Holly feel free to visit again and Holly's return invitation for mother and daughter to call on her at the castle gardens—spoke urgently:
Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart Page 29