Probably not the last of the subtle digs Reandn would hear about Wolves; there’d always been a friendly rivalry between the two closely related branches of Keep security. He let it pass readily enough — his Hound friend Caleb had taught him that particular skill. “I’ve been to the pass myself. That’s better than any map.”
Damen watched him a moment — Hounds were ever intent at sniffing nuance. “It is, and I’d heard. I’d heard, too, that you’ve some problem with magic. But the Prime requested you, and Elstan’s spells will be minimal. Communications, mostly, if our luck holds. Elstan knows your problem and I’m assured he can deal with it. Can you?”
“There’s magic around me whether or not I take this road,” Reandn pointed out. “And my reaction to it is the whole reason I’m here, isn’t it? No one can slip a spell over us if I’m around, not even one quiet enough to slip by a wizard.”
“Well, then,” Damen said, offering him a smile. “We should do well together. He nodded at the corral. “These horses are all retired Wolf mounts — mustered out because they didn’t have what the Wolves want in a horse. We shouldn’t have any trouble with them.”
Didn’t have quite the fire, is what he meant. That meant well-trained, athletic horses with temperaments a child could handle. “Except that palomino,” Reandn said. “That mare’s too fine for patrol work. She’s a gift for Meira Kalena, then?”
Damen raised a thick eyebrow at him. All of his hair was plentiful, red and wiry, and looked somewhat at odds with his easy composure, as did his profusion of freckles. “You have worked with Wolf horses before,” he said, then grinned, the sort of apology he clearly expected would do the trick — and it probably always had. “Not that I doubted you. But there’s wranglers, and then there’s wranglers. You’ll know what I mean.”
Reandn just nodded. This man was used to having things his way, but not to being heavy-handed about it. Good news for a Wolf who had most likely outranked this Hound not too long ago.
“Your own horse settled?” Damen asked. At Reandn’s nod, he said, “You might as well come along to the inn, then. There’s good food, and a Tits-fine bard, and we’ll have an early start tomorrow.”
~~~~~
Reandn watched as the bard — a middle-aged woman with a schooled alto and a handful of children who scampered to catch coins and cheered the loudest after her songs — held up her hand to her throat and said, pitifully hoarse, “I’ll play more later, gentlefolk, but I’ve a thirsty voice just now.”
The crowd’s response was good-natured disappointment, for Damen hadn’t exaggerated her skills. But she also favored the sort of heartbreaking ballads that had been Adela’s favorites, and he barely hid his relief at her departure.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Nican crowed to Elstan. He was darkly resplendent in a red shirt beneath his Hound brown, and certainly seemed to know it. “Damn fine!” As partners, he and Damen were a study in contrasts. But Damen — tall, deep-voiced and easy-going — seemed completely at ease with Nican, who was several inches shorter than Reandn but not the least bit smaller. He was, in fact, a burly man who looked like he’d somehow lost track of the height that had surely been allotted to him. But his words came fast, and his gestures were generous and frequent. Sitting at the same table in the busy tavern below the inn rooms, he was a little more than Reandn cared to deal with. Out on the road, it would be better.
He hoped.
Elstan merely shrugged; Reandn already had the impression that the cynical quirk of his lips was more or less permanent.
“Have you no heart?” Nican declared. “Have you ever heard Ciara’s Ride sung with such feeling?”
“Some men put their feelings on rations,” Damen suggested. “What say, Dan, sitting over there so quietly? You rationing along with Elstan?”
Reandn’s first impulse was low and growly and not meant for a remount wrangler to say to a Hound. After an instant’s hesitation, he managed a somewhat wicked smile. “ Give me a good randy sing-along.”
Nican said, “Oh, she’ll do those when she comes back. Then we’ll see if Elstan sings as well as he drinks down that ale.”
“Wine,” said Elstan. “Maybe the last fine vintage I’ll have until we return from this journey, but wine nonetheless.”
“Ah,” Nican said. “A taste for the finer things. What brings you on this trip, then, if it’s the court life you prefer?”
If Elstan had any sense of humor, it didn’t show; he scooped his light brown hair out of his face and fixed his gaze — light brown to match his hair, and without the impact he probably thought to inflict — on Nican. Where Nican and Damen were more or less of Reandn’s thirty-two years, Elstan appeared older by at least another five.
But no one appeared impressed, not by his seniority or his connections, and eventually he relented. “Malik himself requested my presence.”
“Ah,” Nican said again. “Well, boy-o, we won’t make faces at your wine, long as you leave us our ale.”
Elstan said nothing; Reandn thought he saw some color flush the man’s neck, though in this poor light it was difficult to tell. But he had no doubt about the magic — it whispered against his ears and started to build, and he threw the wizard such a glare that Damen gave him a startled glance. Elstan never looked his way, but the magic fizzled away much less gracefully than Teya’s ever had, the feel of boiling water suddenly without a pot.
Randy sing-alongs. The sooner the better. The following day they’d be out of these close quarters and on their way, bringing the hope of peace from the Resiores — and bringing Reandn back to the Wolves.
~~~~~
Teya stood at the top of the stairs and looked down the hallway, pensive in her reluctance. The masters — the older wizards, who had learned their skills a generation earlier — did individual tutoring in their own dedicated rooms on this second floor of the school.
Farren’s room was here.
Teya had never formally met the wizard who witnessed the restoration of magic. From the few times she’d seen him, Teya could well imagine he didn’t sit well with Reandn. Both had — and Teya structured her thoughts to keep them reasonably respectful — unusually strong personalities. No doubt they’d spent a lot of their time together snarling at one another.
Saxe seemed to get along fine with the old wizard. Maybe because he’d been introduced along with his rank, while Reandn had met Farren sickened by translocation and crazed with grief for his slain wife — and not as a Wolf at all. Teya had seen them together the day she was posted to Reandn’s patrol — and even though she’d barely known either of them, she’d seen how Farren treated Reandn — peremptorily, with an assumption that his own words were the final ones.
Ohhh, yes, there was a lot of tension there.
She wasn’t comfortable with the thought of going to Farren for anything, never mind a favor.
Fortunately, Saxe was here as well; Teya was surprised at how often she’d seen the Wolf Leader in these halls recently. He and Farren were working hard to develop standards and policies for a new branch of the King’s Service — wizards, trained to keep vigil on other magic-users. Teya’s position as the wizard in the Remote had been the first step in the process, but she had no illusions about making it into the new wizard patrol itself.
Not anymore.
She moved down the quaintly detailed old hallway and stopped beside the ornate curlicues that framed Farren’s door. Up until this moment she’d been half-resolved to knock on the door, but suddenly doing so seemed entirely inappropriate. Interrupt a meeting between the Wolf Leader and the school’s liaison to the Keep? Maybe on another, bolder day, but certainly not on this one. She resolved to wait.
She was somewhat startled when Saxe opened the door in short order, looking at her with amused patience.
“Quick eye and quiet foot, Wolf,” he said. “Even here.”
Teya blushed. Not a good start. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said, rushing the words too much. “I — I just wanted
to talk to you, and I figured this would be the best place to wait.”
“Well, come in, then. I could use a break from this mind-twisting project.”
“In there? Me?” What an impression she must be making. But Saxe only nodded and opened the door wider.
The room was as she imagined it — neat, organized, completely walled with bookshelves and missing the numerous odd mementos typical of the other masters. She’d heard that Farren ran a tailor shop in Maurant during the years between magic — she could well imagine it, and imagine his precision with the details of such a business.
Farren sat behind a desktop strewn with notes. Even there, Teya thought she detected some semblance of order. He, too, was as she remembered — not a big man, still straight and trim and without the thin-skinned frailties that would make her think of him as truly aged. He nodded and leaned back in his chair, giving her tacit permission to carry on her conversation with Saxe.
“What can I do for you, Teya?” Saxe asked, seating himself beside the desk.
“I have some questions,” she said. “About my patrol. Or what’s left of it, I suppose.”
Saxe winced. He had honest, square-cut features around a nose that ought to have been a little smaller, and she’d always trusted him.
“Dakina’s doing very well,” he said. “And it looks like Dreyfen will heal well enough to return to active duty. Maccus... that head wound...” Saxe shook his head. “ Don’t get your hopes up for him, Teya. Only magic has kept him alive.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But that’s not what I wanted to ask about.”
Saxe raised an eyebrow in invitation. “What is it, then?”
“I was just wondering...” How to put this so she didn’t reveal Rethia’s visit? “I know there are new Remote patrols under development, but... I’m still here. Am I being punished? Is that why I haven’t heard anything about returning to Reandn’s Remote? And what about Dakina? We’d really like to be paired when we go active again.”
There. She’d left a clear opening for Saxe to mention that Reandn had been kicked out of the Wolves — and to admit she wasn’t being returned to her patrol.
But Farren responded in his stead. “There are factors involved here that you know nothing about. It would be best, for now, if you limited your concerns to healing and learning. Rest assured, we’ll use your unique abilities to their fullest extent.”
It probably wasn’t meant to feel like a slap. But it did, and Teya drew herself up, keeping her tone much more quiet than she felt. “Respectfully, Meir Farren... this is a Wolf matter.”
Farren’s blue eyes sparked — but Saxe said, “Farren,” and that, it seemed was enough. When he turned back to Teya, his expression held resignation — and regret. “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about pairing with Dakina.”
She understood in a flash of dismay. It’s already too late. But she persisted, fighting the waver of panic in her voice. “We figured we could handle the request once we were back in the patrol. Reandn probably would have paired us up that way without even needing to ask.”
That, she suddenly realized, was true. As angry as he made her, he was fully aware of the small social currents within the patrol — the friendships and natural teams.
Saxe shook his head, just once. “We can’t put you in the same patrol again, never mind paired,” he said. “You went through the same horrifying experience; it’s going to affect you no matter how you try to fight it.”
“It’ll just make us stronger,” Teya said, unable to say the words as loudly as she’d like.
“In some ways,” Saxe agreed. But he shook his head again anyway. “It’s no punishment, Teya. But this is the way things have to be. You’ll all have separate assignments.”
“Will I even return to the Remote?” Teya held his gaze for an endless moment and then lost the nerve for it, fastening her gaze on the indecipherable, upside-down scribbling of Farren’s papers. They seemed a little blurry, and she blinked quickly. Somehow, what she’d been through hadn’t seemed as bad when she thought she’d be with her surviving patrol mates, with Reandn leading them. That last realization was enough to startle her grief away.
She hadn’t realized she’d actually come to depend on him.
Saxe said, “ I can tell you that we consider the experiment — the addition of a specialized wizard into a Wolf patrol — to be a success.” He smiled at her; it didn’t even seem forced. “If it worked with Reandn, it’ll work with anybody.”
Gratifying, yes. An answer, no. Teya drew on all her composure, still pushing. “Right now I’m the only wizard who’s trained to make absolutely certain my magic doesn’t affect Reandn. I’d like to return to his patrol.”
But she suddenly no longer had the unmitigated trust she’d once put in her Wolf leadership. Saxe and the Prime might well do what they thought best for all, but that didn’t mean it was best for everybody.
Saxe said, “We’ll keep that in mind.”
And Teya stood a little straighter, looking at him straight on. I know you’re lying. It was as close as she could come to saying the words out loud, and she saw the impact of them in his faint wince.
It was all she could do. She offered Saxe a salute, waiting for his nod of dismissal before she turned to go. She gave Farren a salute as well, but as her hand settled on the door latch, she stopped, struck by understanding. “I’m not really a Wolf anymore, am I? You signed me over to the school. But the school released me from classes to work in the field. Am I neither, then? To which of you do I answer?”
Clearly, neither of them had considered the question at all. After a glance at Saxe, Farren said, “Certainly, you should stay and learn what you can — as well as share your field experience. I can see the time has passed for us to consider your exact status, and I’ll see to that.”
Slowly, Teya nodded. “Thank you, meir.”
Just as slowly, she returned to her room, considering the things they’d said... and the things they hadn’t.
Students came to this school of their own free will; they vied for the available slots, which as of yet were seriously limited. Some failed; some decided it wasn’t the life they wanted. But no one, not even the successes, was forced to stay.
When she’d signed on with the Wolves, she’d agreed to stay for the years of her training and three years beyond. But they’d gladly released her to the school when she’d shown such obvious signs of talent. But they’d taken her back without a new enlistment, due to her unique situation. Now they’d as much as said it — she was no longer a Wolf.
And, she thought, they were making far too many assumptions about her malleability — her willingness to let them guide her. Or use her.
The thought rocked her. Here she’d just been waiting to hear what would happen next, when in truth she was able to make some of her own choices.
But the first option that occurred to her also scared the wits out of her.
Teya paced the room, shoving the chamberpot under her bed with a foot when she reached it. But pacing got her nowhere and abruptly seemed borderline on stupid, so she put herself cross-legged on the middle of her bed and closed her eyes.
After all, she was swamp-bred. And no one did standing in front of a decision and looking it up and down better than those from the swamplands.
She drew Rethia’s visit to mind. She was an odd one, all right, but Teya had the feeling that nothing she said or did was without purpose, no matter how obscure it might seem to someone else.
Does Danny make you angry? Rethia had asked. And of course the answer was yes, all too often. Because he was hard-headed, and stubborn, and sometimes talking to him felt like running face-first into a stone wall. He did things his own way.
He’d handled Arval his own way, and look where it’d gotten him. Yes, and he did things his own way to help that little girl. Teya grew absolutely still on the bed, circling in on the thought. He did things his own way to help... Except hitting Arval hadn’t done anyone any good
.
It stopped Arval from pushing you around.
Swiftly, she searched her memory, going past her sense of who and what her patrol leader was — intractable, stubborn, full of temper — to the incidents that created that image.
... Her first patrol under his command, when he refused her offer to subdue several ruffians the patrol had cornered. “Not yet,” he’d said. “Not until I know you can do it.” Humiliated, Teya instantly assumed he didn’t trust her, simply because he didn’t trust magic. Now she thought again — pretending to be him, looking at the situation all over again. Two burly outlaws tightly hemmed by Wolves, untested fledgling wizard...
Her eyes flew open. What if she’d mis-aimed that spell? She’d never even considered the possibility, but then, she knew the procedure behind it. He hadn’t.
And how many times have you used that spell since you proved your aim was precise?
Plenty.
She sorted through similar incidents — the ones she was part of, the ones she had heard of — the times his notorious temper was quick to rise, and the times he’d dug his heels in against Highborn orders.
“Let the burning minor have the thief,” she remembered muttering under her breath on one brittle-cold day that past winter, as Reandn and the minor argued authority and everyone thought it a stupid territorial spat, the minor and the Wolf First of humble origins.
In the end, since the Wolves had the thief held in the midst of them, they’d also walked away with him. Teya had rolled her eyes while her teeth chattered, knowing the Keep would chide them for the incident.
But since then, she’d heard bits and pieces about how harshly that minor treated lawbreakers. And she remembered that the thief was young and cold and scared to death. In the end he’d spent his time in jail, but in another minor’s area, and under the King’s Justice. As far as Teya knew he still had all his fingers, and could still make an honest living if he cared to.
Reandn wouldn’t have let this happen. That’s what she’d wailed to herself that day on the hill, the bloodbath of the Remote. She hadn’t doubted it then; she didn’t doubt it now.
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