Touched By Magic (The King's Wolf Saga)

by Doranna Durgin

  "He made colors in flame, Danny," she said, irritation sparking behind that excitement. "He took a torch and made it burn in glorious colors. I'm so sorry Kavan missed it."

  "Powders will do as much."

  She made a face. "This wasn't powders, no matter what anyone else thinks! Danny, I work with this man. I saw the look on his face and there were no powders. Ronsin worked real magic tonight."

  Reandn shook his head. "No such thing anymore. No more dragons, no more spells. Last unicorn was seen when I was a boy."

  Not that it was that simple. In full magic, King's Keep extended its unquestioned authority throughout all of Keland. Back then, if trouble started, the king had known immediately, and reacted instantly. Now, trouble could brew for weeks—or longer—before King's Keep knew about it, even with the extensive Fox placements. And it was even longer before the response took effect.

  Losing magic had changed Keland in all ways, and King's Keep hadn't quite caught on. The previous ruler and his advisors had withdrawn the forces with which they could no longer easily communicate, as if no one quite yet realized that Keland needed their presence in order to maintain the Keep's influence.

  "Reandn, listen to me!" Adela's sharp tone surprised him, and brought him right back to the conversation he'd already dismissed. "I saw what I saw. He may be a little soft in the head, but he wouldn't stoop to using powders."

  "He'd do anything to get back some of the prestige he used to have," Reandn said. "Even if it meant thinking up a new way to cheat." He held up a hand as she drew breath to protest, her deep brown eyes flashing irritation. "No—I'm sorry. Dela, I'll believe you believe in what you saw—if you understand that I can't believe it without seeing it."

  "Fair enough," she said, although she didn't sound happy. She hesitated, straightening a collar that didn't need to be straightened. "Be careful out there on this cold Eve night—and don't freeze off any important parts!"

  "I'll do my best," he assured her. "And when I get back, maybe I'll wake you up and prove it."

  A sly expression crept over her face, part of the game. "I dare you," she said. She gave him a quick, hard kiss, and left him with a whirl of blue material, her tightly-fitting bodice peeking out from the loose tunic.

  No doubt she'd planned it that way. Somehow. Reandn watched her walk down the hall and shook his head with a smile. Patrol, he thought. Keep your mind on patrol.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter 2

  Reandn's patrol, twenty paired Wolves and a few Yearling trainees, waited for him in the ready room, grouped around the hearth for a few last moments of warmth while he reminded them that the Dragons had a watch out this night as well—although those troops were keeping to the main road between King's Keep and its town.

  Avoiding the Dragons was the most exercise the Wolves were likely to get on this cold evening, aside from pulling wayward Highborn out of the snow, and Reandn suggested that they consider it a stealth drill.

  They went out into the cold making bets on each other and Reandn withdrew to the back of the room to stay out of the way while the evening patrol straggled in, tired and chilled and followed by the Wolf Third—a spare figure of a woman named Faline. Tying his warm fur-lined jacket closed and lacing up his half-chaps, he listened long enough to assure himself nothing unusual had happened, and went to the stables to collect Cloud, the pale grey horse that would be waiting for him.

  Pale, so he could be seen by his patrol as he made the circuit over both road and rough trails that enabled them to make contact. Tonight, as he ducked low-hanging branches that stung all the more for the cold, none of his patrol signaled him to stop. No surprise. He'd as much assured it when he'd warned them not to be seen by the Dragons.

  For the Dragons, solstice celebration meant extra duty—and that made them something to avoid.

  But if you're walking down the road on a white horse, there's not a lot you can do to avoid detection. Not even with the full moon hidden behind the trees.

  "Patrol leader?" grunted one of the vague, unmounted shapes that met him on the road, those that made the faint rattling noises of fully geared soldiers.

  "Pack First," Reandn affirmed, settling his weight back in the saddle as Cloud snorted steam into the cold.

  "Blue First," the other responded; Reandn's counterpart in one of the Dragon units. His voice was more abrasive than it was congenial. "Tenaebra's tits, it's a cold one tonight. Glad we don't have to do this all the time. Lucky your men are back in the barracks by the fire, ey?"

  "My men," Reandn said, responding to the insult in the tone despite himself, "include women. They, like me, would probably appreciate a good fire right now. They're out on patrol." Don't let it get to you. Not even if the man was as smug as they come, and Reandn's temper forever a simmering thing. Wolf First sets the example.

  The First snorted half a laugh and muttered a comment to his unidentified companion. "Maybe you'd better trot back to the barracks and check," he suggested. "'Cause they're not out here."

  Reandn hooked a leg over the saddle pommel. "They are indeed, and grateful to your men as well. The Eve weeks are the most productive of the year for us—we always catch a poacher or two sneaking away from your Dragons."

  "In a Lonely Hell," the man replied promptly. "More'n likely they've found themselves one of your Wolf bitches and made a little den under some tree."

  Swiftly regaining his seat, Reandn leaned over, grabbed a handful of the startled man's jacket and jerked him in close. "My Wolves," Reandn said into the man's face, close enough to watch surprise turn to anger, "can out-stalk, out-trail, and out-think your Blues any time they choose. That doesn't give you an excuse to slut-talk them." He released the Dragon with a shove, and Cloud snorted, prancing away.

  "You butt-sniffing son-of-a—" The man's word's came harsh and loud in the night quiet, breaking their previously muted conversation. Another man put a hand on the Dragon's shoulder and muttered the Prime's name. Ethne. A warning to them all.

  Reandn said nothing, his breath wreathing cold steam before him, his temper hovering even as he knew better. At last the Dragon First reluctantly stepped back, growling something insulting. Reandn swung Cloud around and put him into a canter.

  Cloud snorted, too cold to move out comfortably, and Reandn drew him back to a walk. Wolf First sets the example. Right. There'd been at least one Wolf close enough to have observed the encounter, and that meant they'd all know before the night was over.

  Dammit. He'd have to do something about that temper.

  Until the next time someone threatened or insulted his own.

  ~~~~~

  The rest of the night was uneventful. When his patrol filed out of the stuffy debriefing, Reandn took possession of one of the benches, stretching out face down. Just a few moments to clear his head....

  Footsteps approached and arrived at the doorway of the ready room, paused, and traced the aisle between the benches to come to a stop before Reandn. He knew the boots as well as he knew the walk. Saxe. Reandn grunted an unintelligible greeting.

  "Got to talk to you," Saxe said.

  Grunt.

  "Listen up, Reandn," Saxe responded, a trifle impatiently.

  Knowing the slight edge of irritation spoke volumes in his even-tempered Pack Leader, Reandn rolled off the bench and assumed a tired slouch against the wall. "Uneventful patrol," he said with a yawn, "Considering Tenaebra's Eve."

  "Uneventful," Saxe repeated dryly.

  Abruptly realizing what the conversation was about, Reandn gave an irritable shrug. "It wasn't anything."

  "You laid hands on the Blue First. If the Prime hears about it, you can bet she'll be at my throat. Defense cooperation during the Eves is our biggest priority and you know it."

  "Saxe, I won't have my people foul-mouthed."

  "The Dragons, especially the Blues, talk that way about everybody not in their unit." Impatience flared in the dark hazel eyes.

  "Not about my patrol. Not in front of me
," Reandn said firmly.

  "You're not even sorry." Exasperated, Saxe leaned his smaller, more solid bulk against the wall next to Reandn, a more companionable stance. "Once a week I'm apologizing for you, and you're not even sorry."

  "The trouble is never meant for you."

  "One of these days Ethne's going to see us both replaced."

  "No, she won't," Reandn countered. "We're both too good to lose."

  Saxe turned to his former partner with a wry grin, a shake of his head that barely stirred his short-cropped, almost-black hair. "The young are always coming in, Danny. Someday they'll find someone to replace us both. There's always Wace."

  Reandn snorted expressively, although he recognized Saxe's dry humor. "That pup's still here only because his father is a retired Dragon with more honors than he knows what to do with. What's really bothering you? It's not the Blue First's ego."

  Saxe sighed. "Maybe not. The broken ice you found...there's a boy missing from the kitchen. Since everyone else seems to be accounted for, consensus is, the boy made that hole in the ice."

  "A boy was heavy enough to fall through that ice? After the weather we've had?" Reandn said skeptically.

  "It's the only thing that fits so far, though there are bets that it was some townie we haven't heard about yet. But the Hounds figure when spring comes, we'll find that boy in the thaw."

  "Anyone checking with the boy's family? Maybe he got homesick and went creeping home." But Reandn knew they were only words. The second boy missing, in a matter of weeks. Children died, accidents happened...but this didn't feel right.

  Saxe's grimace said he felt the same. "One of the Foxes is going to check out his family for us, but she's back at the Keep after a little altercation on assignment and won't be prepared to leave for over a week. And you know what travel's like this time of year—it'll take her a while to reach East River. It's more likely we'll find him in the thaw before we get an answer from East River."

  "If he's in the pond," Reandn said darkly. "We could end up with another permanent mystery."

  "I don't even want to think about that," Saxe said. "I'd rather think about what I'm going to do about you and your...impulsiveness."

  Reandn pushed himself away from the wall, tightening his jacket ties. "Offhand, I think we're going to learn to live with it. At least when the Dragons get mouthy."

  Saxe rolled his eyes. "If you weren't so good out there..."

  Reandn flashed Saxe a deliberately cocky grin. "But I am," he said, and left before Saxe could think of a suitably scathing reply.

  Breakfast was a quick affair in the commons, where Reandn scrupulously avoided the glares of the Dragons in blue diamond-marked cloaks; he ate his breakfast with Faline, Wolf Third, who also knew of the incident and seemed to think the Blue First had gotten what he deserved.

  Normally mornings meant training—either Yearlings or horses, with Dela—but Eve schedules were always out of whack, and Reandn was just as glad to go straight to their room and catch some sleep. Out of the commons, behind the kitchen in the seldom traveled hall that led to Ronsin's tower, Reandn mounted the stairs that led to their room—a little wedge of a space, sparely furnished with a wardrobe and clothespress, the wide, heavily blanketed bed and one ancient rocking chair. One of Adela's works, a small unicorn hunt tapestry, hung above the bed, and a smaller embroidery of delicate roses offset the shuttered window. The room was empty, chilly despite the banked fire that he paused to build up before pulling off his boots.

  As he dropped his heavy wool jacket on the clothes press, someone fumbled at the latch of the old wooden door; he opened it to find Adela, over-laden with droopy potted plants, and hastened to grab what he could. Dirt spilled, pots juggled—Adela giggled, as light-hearted as ever, and snagged a kiss in the process. Back inside, Reandn balanced on one leg and pushed the coat off the press with his foot, setting the plants in its place.

  "What's all this?" he asked, as Adela straightened from depositing her armful to survey the greenery.

  "Sad looking plants," Adela said. "Ronsin insists on having them around but something up there disagrees with them. I'm going to see if I can't fix them up a little."

  "It's winter," Reandn said with some surprise. "What does he expect?"

  "Green plants." Adela turned her scrutiny from the plants to his face. "You look tired, Danny."

  "You should, too," he responded, and threw himself crosswise on the bed.

  "I got extra sleep this morning—Ronsin told me last night that we'd start late today."

  "Lazy," he mumbled into the bed covers. "What would your high-placed friends think."

  "They'd gasp at the thought of getting up as early as I did," she said cheerfully. "Take off your clothes before you fall asleep, and give me a chance to get them to the laundry."

  "Uh-huh," he said, not moving.

  She loosened the chap laces and tugged off his boots. "That's all the help you get. Now off with the rest—I want to take advantage of the morning while I've still got it."

  "Umph," he said, eyeing her over his shoulder. "You want 'em off, you take 'em off."

  So she did.

  ~~~~~

  Adela sat at Ronsin's workbench with Kavan beside her, the workbook open before them. A...D...E... she traced in the wax tablet they shared. But Kavan seemed stuck on K. "K-a-v-a-n," she prompted him gently, having just learned to spell the name the week before, herself. She'd memorized Danny's name first, and was working on her own name now, glad for the chance to learn at all. It meant time away from the horses, but Danny was as enthusiastic about having a reader in the family as she was, and had been taking up the slack.

  Enthusiasm eluded Kavan this morning, however. Usually he was a cooperative little boy, glad for attention—but since Ronsin had given them the morning's brief lesson and retired to his private study, Kavan had done nothing but fiddle with the knotted string necklet his sister had given him before they were separated.

  "Would you prefer to check the plants now?" she asked him, laying a casual hand along his cheek in case he had a fever.

  His black eyes darted fearfully to the closed door of Ronsin's study, and when he spoke it was in an earnest, carefully lowered voice. "He'll just kill them. I don't like him."

  Surprised, Adela considered the unexpected answer. Never before had Kavan ventured an opinion about the man who now controlled his life. "It's true the plants don't do well here, but Ronsin wants them to thrive. That's why we have to take such good care of them." As she spoke, his features molded into subtle stubbornness. "Kavan, has he done something to frighten you? Has he hurt you?"

  Her obvious concern melted a little of his defensiveness. "No," the boy said, "but he acts strange, and I don't like it." His voice stayed a murmur, and he watched Ronsin's door rather than look at Adela.

  "Ah," she said, with understanding. "He's had a hard life, Kavan, and he's getting older." Unconsciously she pitched the level of her voice to match the boy's. "Sometimes, when people are older, they do things the rest of us don't always understand."

  "That's different," Kavan insisted. He looked directly at her, an unusual wheedling tone creeping into his voice. "De-ela, can I stay with you and Dan? Please? I can water the plants and fetch things even if I sleep downstairs."

  Slowly, she shook her head, and the little boy slumped back into himself. "You and I can't make decisions like that. I can discuss it with Ronsin and Dan, if you'd like, but I think it's important to Ronsin to have you here. I understand that you don't like it, and I'm sorry."

  Kavan heaved a big sigh. "I know," he said, and unfolded himself to give her a hug.

  She squeezed him tight and kissed his head, then set him back. "What about those plants, then?"

  He hopped off the bench, fetched the little tin bucket—all he could carry when it was full—and dipped it into the larger tub that collected rainwater from a roof drain tile. Sticking his finger in the soil of each plant, Kavan gave the dry plants a dipper of water, speaking encour
agingly to the saddest-looking ones and tossing a smile back at Adela every now and then. In the past she had double checked each plant before he watered, but she was trying to wean Kavan off such dependence; today she sat on the bench and watched. When Ronsin emerged from his room, she was in a perfect position to see the child's smile fade. He worked in somber silence, keeping his back to the wizard.

  Adela looked at the old man, wondering—not for the first time—just how old he was, for the impression of frailty he gave didn't quite match his relatively seamless face, a face that might have looked younger yet if his white hair had been cut and combed. Ronsin, in turn, watched Kavan, his expression pensive and not, she thought, entirely benign.

  Now where did that thought come from? She caught the tone of her thoughts and deliberately cut herself short. Absurd. When Ronsin looked her way, she smiled a greeting and rose from the bench. She'd make a quick stop in Ronsin's quarters to collect his laundry, and then scoot on to the barn to do some groundwork with Willow. She'd named the new horse Willow Wisp for his creative fearfulness, but sometimes she wasn't sure who needed the most reassurance about life—the horse or the boy.

  It didn't matter. She had enough of it for them both.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter 3

  Over the weeks, Ethne eased the hunt for the two missing boys. Wolves and Hounds alike spoke of their frustration in undertones, while dodging energetic children who didn't understand why they'd suddenly lost their freedom.

  Reandn knew why. Just as he made sure Kavan told Adela every time he left the tower, even if it was only to visit Willow in the barn.

  But as Deep Winter Night passed and Ardrith's Eve drew near, people began to relax. The unusual cold held, keeping most of the poachers and other miscreants inside by their fires.

  At first Reandn welcomed the respite—it gave him time to adjust to the noise inside his head, to learn to function through those interludes.

  Or to fake it.

  Because Saxe couldn't know. Adela wouldn't know.