Touched By Magic (The King's Wolf Saga)

by Doranna Durgin

  But Adela did.

  Overseeing both the wizard's tower and the low-level training of the Wolf patrol mounts kept her more than busy, but she stayed with Kavan as the boy learned Ronsin's routines. She could hardly resist—twenty-seven years old, ten years partnered...

  They both knew better than to hope for their own any longer.

  So they made Kavan their own. And now Reandn knew well enough to do nothing more than rest his hand on top of the boy's head and wait, ignoring the spitting rain.

  Finally Kavan murmured, "'Dela said you had a new horse. She said it needed to be petted."

  Ah, Willow. The four year-old gelding who was as uncertain of the world as Kavan, but was also as eager to please—as long as he didn't feel threatened. Making him comfortable in his new stable was Adela's priority. "She's right," Reandn said. "He feels like you did when you got here. Let's see if we can make him happier."

  He offered his hand to the boy, and Kavan took it with a confidence that made Reandn smile, and forget how tired he was.

  ~~~~~

  The third shift bells woke Reandn into the darkness of late evening. Adela had come to bed some time earlier, and now snuggled closely against him to ward of the chill of a night turned abruptly cold.

  Good. Cold weather would dampen Tenaebra Eve mischief more surely than the evident patrols of Hounds, Wolves and Dragons, even if it would be necessary to look for drunken Highborn who underestimated the danger and fell asleep in the grip of cold and the potent Eve wines.

  A waxing moon lit the room, giving him enough light to lie there, snug under the covers, and simply look at Adela. Hard work had set some recent grey strands in her dark hair and the hint of lines around her mouth; somehow they served only to make his eyes linger longer. He traced the night-blurred lines of her face with sleepy attention—smooth, gentle features that blended roundly into one another, encompassing eyes set too widely for perfection and a mouth whose generous lower lip fit nicely above a barely clefted chin.

  She'd given up a good position as Lady Cosette's attendant when they'd partnered; it wasn't considered proper for young Highborn ladies to have wedded aides. But rather than dwell in town with the rest of the Pack families, Adela had found a new, light-duty position with Ronsin—and then, when it became evident how well she worked with the young patrol mounts, she was assigned to the stable as well, where she and Reandn worked together.

  It was a situation Reandn found eminently satisfying.

  Which didn't make it any easier to remove Adela's arm from his chest and slide out of the warm bed. He turned to her, offering a gentle kiss to her forehead through the covering lace of loose hair—and then froze as he pulled away.

  Not again.

  But it was. He stiffened as the new noise scraped along his nerves, humming through ears that weren't actually hearing anything.

  Get used to it.

  He fought it, trying to maintain awareness of balance and position, and almost missed Adela's sleepy voice.

  "Reandn?"

  He couldn't respond quickly enough; she brushed the hair from her face and peered up at him through the darkness. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," he said, finally forcing the words out. It could be done, then—even if he was lying to the most important person in his life. "I'm having a hard time leaving our bed for the cold."

  "Graces, can't blame you for that," she murmured, settling back down.

  No. But he could blame himself for the lie.

  Somehow after that it was easier to brave the night, and Reandn dressed quickly, slipping out to their landing in the stairway that curved around the inside of the tower.

  Candlelight bounced off the walls above him, flickering wildly with the movement of the man who carried it, and Reandn looked up in surprise. Ronsin was usually long to his bed by this time of night, and certainly not just then descending from his work room at the top of the tower to his small sleeping chamber above Reandn's own.

  Although Reandn seldom crossed paths with the wizard, he had a clear image in his mind of a man stooped with age, the impression of frailty hidden beneath perpetually loose clothing, thinning grey hair brushed back on his skull and skittering around his collar.

  A door creaked, and the candlelight disappeared. Reandn found himself alone in the cold stone stairway, working his jaw and wondering at his mood.

  ~~~~~

  That night the frigid air settled around King's Keep, and it stayed. During the days Prime Ethne and King Hawley soothed the missing boy's newly arrived and grieving relatives; the ice crept firmly to the center of the keep pond. The cold kept the fractious from their Eve pranks, and Saxe became noticeably more cheerful despite the unexplained loss of the Resiore boy even as Reandn added yet another layer between his leather vest and wide-sleeved, wool-lined jacket and cloak.

  By the time Reandn debriefed his patrol on the morning of the Eve celebration itself, he detected definite undercurrents of boredom in his patrol—they expected more from a pre-Eve week, and the mystery of the Resiore boy's disappearance wasn't enough to keep them occupied. He toyed with the idea of sending them back on wide patrol rather than the usual tight Eve patterns when Caleb came into the ready room, stomping his feet and rubbing his arms with much drama, his face nearly hidden beneath the red scarf that clashed so dearly with his rusty hair.

  "Ah," Reandn groaned. "You deserve a thrashing for walking around in that thing."

  "Do I?" Caleb asked, his cheerful obliviousness offset by the knowing gleam in his eye. "That's the advantage to being color-blind, I suppose. Though I didn't brave the cold for a thrashing."

  Reandn crossed his arms, expression deadpan. "It takes something monumental to drag one of you Hounds away from your arduous duty inside that nice warm keep, is that it?"

  "No, no." Caleb unwrapped the scarf to reveal a serious expression. "We're just so indispensable the Prime doesn't dare let us out."

  Reandn laughed, short and loud. "I'm for breakfast, Caleb. You coming?"

  "Can't." Caleb shook his head. "We have a lot of last minute plans to finalize, with all those Highborn who're gonna stay inside to keep their toes warm. Makes your job easier, I know, but doesn't do much for the Hounds." For while the Wolves patrolled the grounds around King's Keep, the Hounds handled internal patrols—and the Foxes moved silently throughout the Keep—or anywhere else in Keland—without anyone quite knowing who they were. Tonight, the onus would be on the Hounds. Caleb's expression sobered enough to show that he knew it. "I came to see if you'd be there tonight."

  "Don't know." Reandn hooked his jacket from the wall peg and shrugged into it. "Dela's going; whether I make it depends on the patrols. They might need me out there early."

  "Think about it, Dan," Caleb said—resorting to familiarity with Reandn's name, which meant something. "I doubt Saxe's said anything, given how you feel about hanging around Highborn, but tensions have been running high—especially since we lost that boy to the, er, hill cat. Ethne's encouraging any of the off-duty patrol folk—Hound and Wolf—to be in attendance. Eve is open to townsfolk, too, so it's not like you'll stick out."

  Reandn eyed him askance.

  Caleb responded with a shrug. "Yeah, all right. You'll stick out. We could still use you." He hesitated. "I'd feel better if we had a few First-level folk around."

  It was as close to an actual request as Caleb would come. Reandn tightened the jacket ties and flung his cloak over one shoulder. "I'll do my best," he allowed. "Already promised Dela that much."

  Caleb grinned at him. "Good," he said. "See you there." And he wrapped his offensive red scarf back around his face and left, the grin on his face making it perfectly clear he knew just how it looked.

  Adela had extracted that promise with some vigor. Reandn had long figured himself marked by Tenaebra, given the way his life had started and now the path it had taken. But Adela—Kavan in tow—gave Tenaebra her due, and then twice weekly visited the Ardrite faith house to pay homage, in search of a long, p
eaceful life and a quiet, painless death.

  So after a day of overseeing the farrier at work on his three mounts and the irascible young Willow, the night shift behind him and sleep gone elusive, Reandn found himself standing outside the door of Adela's friend Elyn, her successor in the employ of Lady Cossette.

  Elyn, several years younger than Adela, had nonetheless turned out to be a good friend—and more than that, she was the same dress size. Now betrothed, she would attend the lady until the marriage—and that meant her wardrobe was full of celebration dresses. And that meant that Adela was within, fussing with some last minute adjustment to borrowed clothing—or so Reandn had gathered from the muffled, giggle-interrupted reply to his knock.

  He would be all but invisible next to her in a Great Hall full of beauties and peacocks, wearing nothing fancier than his most recently issued uniform—a loose-sleeved, sturdy broadcloth shirt under the leather vest that bore the laced pattern of his Pack, Patrol, and rank. The trousers he'd pulled on were new and stiff, and the soft half-chaps meant to protect his legs from brush and equine sweat were fresh-cleaned. Though the guests at the celebration would be unarmed, Reandn had thoughtfully tucked away his boot knife.

  On an occasion like this, its obvious hilt could be a subtle—or not so subtle—reminder to the rowdy young men that they should behave.

  "Are you ready? We're coming out!" Adela called from within Elyn's tiny room, and he stepped aside so they could come out into the corridor for proper admiration. They burst out of the room, a splash of color and scent against the dim stone of the keep.

  "Beautiful." Reandn brought his lightly fisted hand to the base of his throat in a Wolf salute.

  Adela told him, "That's what you always say," but she was smiling.

  "It's always true," Reandn said; reasonably, he thought. The current fashion dictated a closely tailored bodice over a full skirt, covered with a gauze weight, long-sleeved tunic with just enough tailoring and strategically placed slashes to give hints of the shape beneath. Adela wore deep sky blue edged with black, and it brought out the natural blush of her face against the black of her hair—and Reandn knew the shape beneath the blouse of the tunic. "Are you sure you want to go to this celebration?" he asked, so seriously. "I think I remember something in the tower that needs attention."

  "You," Elyn said dryly, sweeping past him in a rustle of deep green skirts, flipping her long blond hair over her shoulder. "We're dancing."

  Adela merely gave him a sly smile and held out her hand, which Reandn took as they trailed Elyn to the great hall. At the wide-arched entrance, he hesitated; imminently faced with frolicking Highborn, he recalled Caleb's concerns. "Dela—"

  "I know. They're likely to be rowdy tonight, and you're going to be Wolf as much as you are Danny, dancing with me." She gave him a quick smile. "Just you keep an eye out, in case one of them happens to forget I'm married."

  He scowled at her, which was what she wanted. "No one," he warned, "had better be that bold." Then he kissed her in plain sight of anyone in the Hall, which was also what she wanted, and let her move off with Elyn while he stepped aside of the entrance and surveyed the Hall.

  Automatically, his gaze ticked off the Hounds, finding them scattered around the entrances and heavily peppered at the back end of the colorfully decorated chamber—and especially stationed next to the raised platform from which King Hawley, his Queen, and their toddler son would preside. Banners adorned the balcony, and a huge tapestry of the goddess Tenaebra stretched over the throne dais, showing her warmly dressed and surrounded by the fruits of the fall, crossed sword and knife in each corner as a reminder of her power.

  Hounds mingled within the crowd as well, less conspicuous than Reandn in tailored, slashed-sleeve shirts and tunics that blended with the crowd. Only the proliferation of certain color combinations made it clear that these men and women were on duty.

  Movement from behind Reandn captured his attention and he caught a glimpse of rusty hair. "Caleb," he said, without turning around.

  "Ah," Caleb said, disappointed. "I'll catch you out one of these days, Reandn."

  "The day you do, I'll join the Hounds."

  "Then best for us if I don't," Caleb shot back. He stepped up beside Reandn to consider the growing crowd, wincing slightly as one of the musicians made a slip on his pipes. "They'll be dancing soon," he said. "That's good. The Keepmaster wants them plied with plenty of wine before the dance tunes begin, so they won't be so shy about getting out there. Myself, I think the practice causes more trouble than it's worth. Gets the young rowdies all full of glee and no outlet for it."

  Reandn thought about Adela and glowered.

  "Where's Dela?" Caleb said, as if he could read his friend's mind. "Ah, there. And you let her out there unescorted looking like that? Shame, Reandn."

  "She's with Elyn," Reandn said, almost a growl. "And I'll be with her soon enough."

  Caleb grinned at him, a knowing look. "I'm grateful you're here, Reandn. Go dance with her now, before it gets too crowded."

  It was already plenty crowded, but Reandn went. The musicians had found their stride and the dances began in earnest—first the complicated group steps that Reandn's feet had never followed very well, but it amused him to try, and then the more loosely structured couples dances. By then Adela was ready for a rest and something to drink; Reandn escorted her to the food tables, made sure there were no troublemakers in sight, and went to prowl the edges of the hall. His obvious uniform took some of the wild out of the young men's eyes as he passed the small groups that might have been building themselves up to trouble.

  But the stuffy air, redolent with the odor of food, humanity, and clashing perfumes, turned unexpectedly overwhelming. Reandn drifted to the darker recesses of the Hall, watching the interplay of the Highborn, staying out of the way of secluded couples and their whispered endearments—and realized it was not the air at all.

  It was inside his head. His ears, humming with such wicked subtlety that the music had obscured the sound, leaving him only with a distinct unease.

  Damn. He closed his eyes against sudden dizziness. Fresh air, quiet—he suddenly yearned for it. With only a quick glance to find Adela involved in conversation, her expression animated and her color high, he escaped the Hall by way of the tower that rounded off the back corner, climbing to the level of the curtain wall.

  Breathing deeply, moving resolutely, Reandn walked the short length of the wall to the arch over the pond, trailing smoky breath behind him. Above the arch keystone the dizziness eased, despite the underlying noise in his head. Relieved, he leaned against the cold stone to watch two slightly drunken young men navigate the frozen pond, slipping and sliding and laughing loudly at their own clumsy endeavors, mimicking their own blue-on-silver shadows in the moonlight. They slid under the arch and back, traveling beneath the stone in an unimpeded echo of sound.

  The cold was beginning to penetrate the hall's lingering warmth when he spotted a patch of darkness in the sleek ice. There, at the artificially deepened edge where the children swam in the summer.

  After only a moment's hesitation, Reandn swung his leg over the wall and searched for once-familiar snow-slick footstones. The skaters had wandered off into the courtyard; he was alone as he inspected the thin skim on the recently broached ice. If someone had fallen through, it was far too late to save them.

  Grimly, he returned to the revelry to search out Caleb.

  Adela met him in a rush of whirling skirts, with Elyn on her heels. "You missed the most important part, Danny," she said breathlessly, and he wondered if she'd been searching since he'd slipped out.

  "I was about to say the same," added a dry voice beside him, where Caleb suddenly stood, face flushed as brightly as Adela's—though with effort instead of excitement. "That's a Wolf for you—always off sniffing around when you need them the most."

  "What happened?" Reandn asked, not a little befuddled by his reception. The celebration was paused as musicians changed places,
and it all looked normal enough to him.

  "An Up-pass minor's son took umbrage at one of our locals, is all," Caleb said, rolling his eyes slightly; Reandn knew why. The minors wielded a lot of power in their own territories, and always tried to prove it when they came to the Keep. "We got them separated quick enough, but our local boy's a real scrapper and the minor's son..." he grimaced. "Well, he lost. He's in with the Prime and the Keepmaster right now, trying to get the local a stiff penalty."

  "Who started it?" Reandn asked sensibly.

  "That's not what I meant," Adela objected almost simultaneously. She gave Caleb a startled glance, but gestured for him to continue.

  "Sorry, Dela," he said. "It doesn't matter who started it, not to some of these Highborn. I sure wish you'd been here, though. He was all fists and too slick to get a hand on. You're used to that kind of scrapping."

  Reandn gave his friend a warning glance. Caleb knew well enough he had little love of his struggling days in the kitchen, and even less love of reminders. "Go check the pond, Caleb. Looks like someone's fallen through."

  "Tenaebra's ti—" Caleb started explosively, but stopped in mid-curse with a quick glance at Adela. "I mean, just what we need. I'll go have a look at it. Better put out an alert to see if anyone's missing—not that even half this bunch is sober enough to consider present."

  "Thought you'd be interested," Reandn said, placing his hand over Adela's on his upper arm and giving it a squeeze. "I've got to go, Dela—probably be late for patrol as it is. Come walk with me a ways."

  She readily took his arm, and matched his leisurely pace out of the hall. "You missed Ronsin's appearance," she said, when they were far enough away to talk quietly. "You missed his magic!"

  "There isn't any magic," he said, perhaps a trifle too patiently.