Through Wolf's Eyes (42 page)

Vernita's green eyes widened in shock. "As well she should!"

"No, Mother." Derian could hardly keep from laughing
further at the memory. "You don't understand. Firekeeper then went on
to explain that she would have punched the man in the gut but she
didn't want to hurt her hand on his dress corselet and she had to take
him out quickly because Blind Seer was heading for his throat."

"She brought that wolf to a duke's manse?"

"Blind Seer goes everywhere with her: bodyguard and
companion both. I spoke out of line when I said that I was the one
person she trusted. She trusts me to guide her actions, but Blind Seer
she trusts with both body and heart."

"You speak as if the wolf is a person," Vernita said.
"You've spent your entire life around animals. I don't think you would
do this lightly."

"Never, Mother." Derian shrugged and bit into another
cookie. "Blind Seer is as much a person as I am—and not just in
Firekeeper's opinion. I've watched him since Bear Moon when Firekeeper
first introduced him to me and Race. Blind Seer is as clever as any
human—and more so than many I've known."

"Oh."

The monosyllable was noncommittal, but Derian grew defensive.

"Mother, she talks to him and he to her—I am certain
of it! Queen Zorana's edicts encouraged us to forget everything that
came before the Civil War. Mostly I agree with her wisdom. Our nation
started fresh, without all the deadwood of Old Country traditions that
would have weighed us down. I doubt her wisdom where it applies to the
history of our own lands since the earliest days of colonization.

"Lord Aksel Trueheart gives regular lectures to those
who wish to listen—much to Lady Zorana's embarrassment. Perhaps
Firekeeper's arrival spurred Lord Aksel in that direction, but of late
the topic has been what the New World was like when the earliest
settlers arrived. Their records to a one
agree
that in those days there were animals far larger and far wiser than any
we know today. Then, some fifty years after colonization began, almost
to a one they vanished. Where did they go?"

Vernita humored him. "Across the Iron Mountains?"

"That's what I think," Derian replied, flushing
slightly as he realized he'd been ranting. "That's exactly what I
think. I think they figured out that they couldn't compete with our
bows and arrows, our swords and armor, with the magics of the Old World
wizards. Those who admitted it left. The rest were slain."

Footsteps on the wooden floor announced Colby's arrival.

"I heard similar stories when I was a boy," he said,
joining them at the table and pouring himself a mug of beer, "from an
old, old woman who belonged to my society. She claimed to have them
from her own mother, who had lived in the foothills of the Iron
Mountains and seen some of the wise beasts herself. Human life is short
and memory a chancy thing, but I believed her. She had a relic, a bear
claw long as a scythe blade. It was an impressive thing."

Vernita grinned at husband and son. "I consider myself cautioned to keep an open mind. Colby, you're home early."

"Brock came and told me Derian was here. We've heard
enough at the stables of the king's planned departure for me to guess
that this might be Derian's last visit for a while, so I turned the
day's work over to the journeymen with promises that you would review
their books yourself."

"Thanks," Vernita said dryly.

"In any case, I want to go hear King Tedric's farewell speech."

"Is that today?" Derian asked, surprised. "The word I had is that he doesn't depart for another few days yet."

"He doesn't," Colby replied, "but apparently he has
decided to scotch rumors by speaking with the people himself now,
rather than later."

"Wise," Derian said. "Just this morning in the market
I heard some remarkable tales, including one that he was dead and this
journey was simply an attempt to conceal the fact until the nobility
could fight out who would be his heir."

"That one will be easily ended," Colby agreed, "but I wonder what new ones this will begin?"

"I can't say," Derian grinned, remembering.
"Actually, I'm curious about what the king will say myself. Firekeeper
met with him yesterday, but she refused to say anything of what passed
between them. The earl was nearly mad with rage and frustration."

Both Vernita and Colby looked as if they wished to
ask more, but they respected Derian's professed ignorance. After all,
hadn't he just finished boasting that he was the only person Firekeeper
trusted?

Derian sighed inwardly. Let them keep their illusions. On this matter, Firekeeper had been as persistently mute as a stone.

"Let me close the office," Vernita said, "and call
Damita and Brock in. We may as well go as a family. The younger ones
don't seem at all aware that they're living in important times for the
history of Hawk Haven."

T
HE PAVED ASSEMBLY AREA
outside the speaker's tower of Eagle's Nest Castle was normally more
than large enough to hold those who came to hear news from the royal
court. Here, once early in the morning and again at sunset, a herald
stood on a platform within the tower and made announcements. Most of
the time these were routine, hardly more important than the crying of
the hours. Other times they included some interesting tidbit: the
resolution of a crucial court case, the passage of a law, the birth of
a child into the nobility. Each week a post-rider carried the same news
to every surrounding township.

The assembly area was usually strained to capacity
when at midday on each full moon, King Tedric himself came to the
speaker's tower. From this lofty perch, but full in view of his
subjects, he reassured his people that all was well and gave the
blessings of the royal ancestors.

Today, the usual idlers and newsmongers could hardly
find a place to stand. It seemed as if most of the town and a fair
portion of the surrounding countryside had come to hear the
king's
speech. Pressed into the throng, craning his neck to get a good look,
Derian was once again made aware of how much more—well—noble the
nobility looked from a distance.

At this distance, most of the lines on King Tedric's
face vanished. Those that remained gave his features a look of regal
dignity. No one could tell that the snow white hair was a wig or that
his eyes were yellowed with age. Crowned in gold and diamonds, Tedric
looked the storybook picture of a king, and Derian was aware of the
covert glances of respect directed at he himself from neighbors and
friends who knew of his employment in the castle.

It's as if,
he thought wryly,
I'm
somehow improved by having been close to that old man once or twice. I
doubt their opinion would change if they knew the king doesn't even
know me from the other servants.

Standing a few steps back from the king were several
members of the court. Derian recognized Queen Elexa, attended by Lady
Aurella, Steward Silver, and Sir Dirkin East-branch. He knew that the
rest of the court would be standing in the interior courtyard, unable
to stay away from this important speech, although doubtless court
gossip and rumor had revealed everything that would be said.

Indeed, initially there were no surprises for Derian.
As he had in private conference the day before, the king informed his
people of his proposed journey to Hope in order to confer with
diplomats from Bright Bay.

A soft murmur swept the crowd at this news. Not
everyone was, like Derian's family, in a position to hear the earliest
hints of travel. Except for occasional journeys to family estates or to
the seats of his Great Houses, the elderly monarch had not left Eagle's
Nest for years.

The king continued, informing his people that Queen
Elexa would administer daily business in his absence, but that he would
be in regular contact with her through carrier pigeons.

"My heir," he said, his still powerful voice carrying
easily over hushed throng, hardly needing the amplified repetition from
the heralds to be heard at the farthest reaches, "has been
named
in my will, a copy of which remains here in Eagle's Nest, a copy of
which goes with me. I shall not reveal who I have selected in any other
fashion at this time."

From this astonishing announcement, he moved onto the
formal blessing from the ancestors, but Derian hardly listened.
Although most around him stood with their faces upraised to accept the
power of the blessing, a few could not resist whispering.

He goes to meet with the Pledge Child!

Allister Seagleam will be our next king! Why else wouldn't the king name his heir publicly?

There'll be unhappiness in the court tonight!

Pledge Child
. . .

Over and over those two words were repeated, rustling
like dry leaves in the hush, practically taking on the force of an
incantation from an Old Country tale.

Moving through the crowd after the king had retired,
Derian listened to the gossip and conjecture, wondering at the fidelity
of an image. Allister Seagleam was hardly a child any longer. Indeed he
was a man grown with grown sons, but the image of a child born to
fulfill a promise of peace persisted. Even if King Tedric named
Allister Seagleam heir, could any man live up to such a legend?

A
S KING TEDRIC HAD PREDICTED
,
immediately after the announcement that his choice of an heir was to be
known only upon the reading of his will, rapid arrangements were made
so that many of the candidates could join the royal train.

Grand Duchess Rosene's fury when she learned how her
brother had resolved the matter was magnificent to behold. When she
finished raging, she began issuing orders.

"Although I wish to go, it would be an undue risk at my age. Tedric should have more respect for his own aging
bones. If Bright Bay wishes to negotiate, he should insist that their emissaries come here."

Rosene had made the same argument to her brother to
no effect. Tedric had refused to even admit that there was sense to her
position, thus increasing her pique. Now, Rosene shored up her
diminished sense of self-importance by assigning positions to her
family members as a general might order troops.

"Aurella, of course, must remain here with Queen Elexa. To have her do otherwise would be to our own detriment."

Elise thought that it was a good thing that her
grandmother could not read minds, for Elise knew that there was no way,
commanded or not, that Aurella Wellward would leave the queen at such a
time. Aurella's loyalty to her Wellward aunt might even exceed that to
her husband's family—Ivon and Elise herself excepted.

"Ivon, of course," the elderly matriarch continued,
"must be with his troops. If Ivon's name is the one on that sealed
document Tedric was waving about so arrogantly, he was most certainly
chosen at least in part for his martial prowess. No need to undermine
that reputation at this critical moment."

"Thank you, Mother," Ivon said dryly. To his credit,
much of his attention had been given to reviewing the roster that had
been delivered to him soon after the king's announcement.

"Purcel will also be with his company," the matriarch
continued. "Therefore, upon Zorana and Elise falls the responsibility
of keeping an eye on my brother. You must make certain that Tedric
makes no unwise decisions, that he does not overlook the value of his
own kinfolk in favor of a glamorous newcomer."

"Your wish is as my own, Mother," said this newly
mild Zorana. "Aksel can remain here to guard our interests and watch
the smaller children."

"Fine. He is useless on a campaign—nothing like the
Truehearts who bore him. Your son's talents clearly come from the
Archer side of the family."

Zorana nodded, not even bristling at this dismissal of the father of her children.

"I don't think any of your other children need to be
taken along," Grand Duchess Rosene continued to her daughter. "They are
young and almost certainly out of the running."

"I am bringing," said Zorana with a flash of her old
fire, "my daughter Nydia. If I am King Tedric's heir—as is still
possible despite your recent dismissal of my chances—Purcel as my heir
will need to shift his focus to national matters. Nydia will then
become heir to our family properties. It is time her education is
expanded."

"Nydia is," protested the Grand Duchess, "but
thirteen. Until this point you have not cared overmuch about her
education, even though she would follow if Purcel was killed on one of
his military ventures."

"I care now," Zorana said firmly.

The tension in the air between mother and daughter
was a palpable thing. Elise imagined that she could pull it, tug it,
twist it like taffy until it grew white, hard, and immobile.

Grand Duchess Rosene was the one to relent. "If you
wish to expose your thirteen-year-old daughter to the risks of a
traveling military encampment, so be it. Perhaps," she added sourly,
"we should also include Deste and little Kenre. Are you certain that
you are not ignoring their education?"