Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart (19 page)

Her preference, however, was to course ahead while there was light—either early in the morning or as evening drew near—to map out their course, and then sleep through a few of the dark hours. In this way, Firekeeper and Blind Seer were spared at least some of her sardonic commentary on the sluggish pace of the wingless.

They timed their arrival at the edge of the Barren Lands with hours of darkness to spare. The thriving towns of Hope and Good Crossing were just east of the foothills, and had they come in daylight there was a chance that they might have encountered people.

None of them had reason to fear humans. Indeed, Firekeeper would probably have been known to most—at least by reputation. However, since their destination was a secret—Firekeeper still felt a little bad about having misled Derian—they had no wish to be seen.

"Wisest," Elation said as they rested before beginning the climb, "if you follow the canyon cut by the Barren River. As I told you, the river has its birthplace in the mountain lake and so you will not be taken too far astray."

Firekeeper frowned. She had seen something of river canyons during her migrations with the wolves and knew that sometimes even the cleverest pair of feet could not find purchase. Sometimes the water had risen to cover footholds; other times it had worn everything smooth.

She expressed her concern to Elation, but the peregrine was confident.

"Surely if you have trouble you can take to the waters for a spell. The great wolves don't fear getting wet, do they?"

Firekeeper still had her doubts, but permitted herself to be convinced. Blind Seer, confident in his young strength—he was only rising four and despite his inborn wisdom had seen much less than had Firekeeper—was unconcerned.

"We ground travelers must try to gain height as we travel," Firekeeper reminded bird and wolf. "Or else we may find ourselves at the foot of some great fall with a sheer cliff blocking our way."

They entered the canyon and moved west for the remainder of that night's hours of darkness. However, after only a few hours' sleep Firekeeper punched Blind Seer awake.

"I've been thinking," she said, speaking into his ear so as not to wake the peregrine. "Elation cannot be our scout in this place. She thinks too little of obstacles that would halt us, even force us to double back. From this point until we reach the top of the Barren Lands, we travel when there is light. If the traveling is good, we can continue after dark."

The wolf grumbled some but was convinced by the mere fact that Firekeeper would go on without him. Moreover, he had already seen how the waters had sliced the sides of the canyon so that at times they had needed to jump from miniature island to miniature island rather than walking or running.

Elation, when informed of Firekeeper's decision, merely shrugged her head into her feathered shoulders in a gesture of dismissal.

"You know your limitations better than I," she said, and leapt into the air in a burst of wings to avoid Blind Seer's snap.

By the end of that day, it was apparent that Firekeeper had chosen wisely. Her keen eyes, which she relied on as the wolf did his nose, found at a distance the trails that animals had used to come down to the river for water. These provided stretches of easier going, but as most of the animals who lived in the Barren Lands were small creatures—rodents and those who preyed on them, with the occasional goat or sheep—these trails were hardly broad highways.

Moreover, the mountain wind liked the channel cut for it by the river and howled down it like some spring-maddened wolf. When the sun shone, the wind's game only made the travelers uncomfortable, but in the shadowed places ice formed wherever water had splashed, making the footing slick and treacherous.

These difficulties slowed their progress. Indeed, sometimes Firekeeper imagined that by day's end they had progressed only a little distance farther west but had instead climbed endlessly upward. Other times she could not even fancy that much progress, for they were forced to leave the river entirely, taking long detours through sharp broken rock that made Firekeeper reconsider—if only in the privacy of her thoughts—the wisdom of boots.

But after day and night, day and night, and day again, they made camp to the sound of unbroken thunder and knew that they were nearing the source of the Barren River, the lake that humans called the Rimed Lake.

The next dawn they began their final ascent and found themselves with some unexpected company. A kestrel as vibrantly blue and red as Norvin Norwood's favorite waistcoat—indeed far more brilliantly colored than any other representative of that type that Firekeeper had ever seen—fluttered down to meet them.

Even though, as with most of the Royal Beasts, this kestrel was larger than usual, he was still diminutive when compared with Elation. Indeed, Firekeeper found herself doubting that this little hawk could best even a prime sparrow—but, then, the Cousin kestrel hunted mostly insects.

"Bee Biter," Elation said, "what brings you here?"

The tiny falcon darted down and perched on a twig slightly above them. Firekeeper was reminded of a songbird rather than a hawk—but Bee Biter's hooked beak and curving talons gave lie to that fancy. Still, she supposed that the protective coloration served the kestrel well.

"I come to guide you this last way up the rock," the kestrel cried in a high, shrill voice. "I have watched and studied and will share my knowledge freely."

Elation flapped her wings, clearly affronted that the other thought his guidance superior, but Firekeeper cut in before the peregrine could speak.

"Thank you, fleet Bee Biter. We are grateful. My naked hands freeze to the rock and the spray from the waterfall chills my skin."

"Follow then!" Bee Biter shrieked, bounding into the air. "Follow!"

Unlike Elation, who must fly or soar, Bee Biter proved dexterous enough to nearly hover over them. His eye for detail was considerable and Firekeeper suspected that either he had been watching them and considering their limitations or he had watched other humans make this climb.

Time and again, the kestrel steered them away from the obvious path to one that—though more difficult—proved a better choice. Eventually, they climbed to where they could see the waterfall, and Firekeeper was amazed.

"From the sound and the mist, I had thought it close enough to touch," she exclaimed, "yet we are so far away!"

"It is like a wolf pack," Bee Biter said, fluttering a safe distance from Blind Seer, "noisy enough that one cannot judge the size."

Blind Seer, however, was too weary to take offense at this comment. Whereas the climb had been rough on Firekeeper, at least the human had hands with which to grasp. The wolf must leap from rock to rock or scrabble up paths that showered down gravel as he struggled for a foothold. Even the paws of a wolf—surprisingly skillful at bracing and balancing—were challenged by this climb. Had Firekeeper not shoved him over some blockades and dragged him over others, Blind Seer could not have come this far.

Firekeeper stroked him, rubbing beneath his chin and along his throat. She fancied he had lost some weight during these past several days, but then he'd had weight to spare. Now he was firm and strong, as a wolf in pre-snowfall form should be if he expected to survive the winter.

They resumed their climb. The sound from the great torrent of water never diminished, but the time came when they looked down at it, to where its base vanished in mist. By evening, they were on level ground, but another surprise awaited Firekeeper and Blind Seer.

"You said we were coming to a lake!" Firekeeper said accusingly to Elation. "This is no lake. It is the ocean held in the breast of the mountain!"

Elation laughed. "If you could take to the skies at midday, little wolfling, you could see the far side of the lake. Still, I admit it is a grand stretch of water and what you see before you is only one section. The waters fill two lobes of almost equal size. One spills, as you have seen, into the Barren River. There is enough left to birth the Fox and yet even when midsummer is driest the waters recede only a little."

"I am," Firekeeper admitted, "awed and no little bit terrified. I am also exhausted. Will the Mothers forgive us if we sleep? As I recall, we are to meet them to the west of this ocean lake."

"They will forgive," Bee Biter said promptly. "Indeed, it would be best if you had light for the next challenge."

"Next?" growled Blind Seer.

"Think, wolf," the kestrel said teasingly. "Have you yet crossed the Barren River? You began your climb on her more southern bank. To go around the lake you must first cross to the northern bank."

Blind Seer shook, more in dismay than because he was wet, though droplets did scatter from his thick coat.

"True enough, bug-eater. At least the ground is softer here than below."

Elation shrieked laughter, perhaps pleased that the wolf had offered the insult she had not dared. Then she spoke:

"I will hunt for you land-bound: Lick your paws and soak your feet. Build a fire and rest. You have done a great thing for two who have no wings and only six legs between you."

Wolf and woman were too weary to answer to whatever insults might be implied. Glad of a chance to rest where the ground was level and dry, they stretched out on the carpet of dried grass for a brief nap.

Eventually, Firekeeper rose and found kindling among the driftwood washed along the pebbly shore. Blind Seer had eaten two rabbits—head, hide, and entrails—by the time her fire was ready for cooking her own meal, but she was glad of the blaze's warmth as much as its use in preparing food. With full darkness, the lakeside had grown cold.

When she slept, she curled between the fire and Blind Seer. As the wolf had predicted, she tucked her bare feet beneath his belly fur for warmth.

E
ven when they did so, Allister had known that he and Uncle Tedric had been pushing the limits of probability when they had set the date for the second wedding for a mere fifteen days after the first. Still, there had been little choice in the matter.

Boar Moon shone down on late autumn, a time when the early harvest had already been gathered and most farmers were turning their energies to preparing for the first snowfalls. In the northern parts of Hawk Haven, he had heard, there would be snow before the moon finished waning. Bright Bay was enough farther south and her climate was so influenced by the great bay at her heart that winter took a bit longer growing severe, but once the cold set in it always seemed reluctant to let go.

The first wedding had taken place on the twenty-second day of Lynx Moon, about as soon after King Allister's coronation as was reasonable, given the distances some of the guests were required to travel. The second wedding, therefore, could not be scheduled any sooner than the ninth day of Boar Moon.

After the assassination attempt, Allister and King Tedric had discussed delaying the wedding a few more days, but they had decided against it. Already they were tempting the forces that ruled wind and rain; to delay further would tempt cold as well. Moreover, Hawk Haven was farther north. The capital, at Eagle's Nest, lay somewhat closer to the mountains.

Yet if they did not hold the wedding in early Boar Moon, it must be delayed until winter had released its grip on the land and the worst of spring's rains were past—late Horse Moon or even Puma Moon.

True, a hardy group might actually travel more swiftly once the snow was on the ground and wheels could be exchanged for sled runners, but it would take a deep freeze indeed to ice over the Barren, and King Allister had no wish to trust his loved ones to a semifrozen river rife with ice floes.

Moreover, much as he loved her, he was the first to admit—perhaps second after Pearl herself—that his wife was not a hardy traveler. Women Pearl's age still commanded ships or rode to battle—she was just past forty, after all—but Pearl Oyster was not of that type. She was a settled noblewoman who never rode if there was a carriage to hand, had never sailed for herself since her sons had grown eager to take the lines, and rejoiced in a well-managed household.

The twins were still slim girl-children, as light and delicate as the fish and flower for which they were named. Minnow and Anemone might start out finding a multiday sleigh trip exciting. (Even with perfect conditions, they couldn't hope to cover the necessary distance in less than four days.) By the end they would be shivering and miserable, their noses bright red and running, hardly the perfect appearance for maiden wedding attendants.

But as much as King Allister loved his family—and he did so with the open heart of an unambitious man who had never needed to dream his children into anything more than the people they were—it had not been consideration for them or their needs that had made him urge King Tedric to let the wedding remain on its scheduled day.

It had been politics.

A delay until even Horse Moon—if the roads were not sodden with mud—would give the schemers half a year to plan and plot. Rumors would be spread that the wedding had been delayed because the truce was weakening, because Shad and Sapphire had grown to hate each other, because one or both were ill.

In winter, rumors spread with the speed of a skater across the ice and grew around firesides like exotic plants in a New Kelvinese hothouse. Half a year of rumors could destroy his reign more neatly than an assassin's dagger. Best instead that they go ahead and finish the formalities.

Shad and Sapphire would winter in Hawk Haven as planned—King Tedric's age and health made it unwise for his heirs to be too far away when they might be needed. In return, several of the younger members of Hawk Haven's court would winter in Bright Bay. Allister knew that Sapphire was hoping that one or more of her younger sisters would be among that number, but Lady Melina's recent behavior made that uncertain.

Our young guests won't be hostages
, Allister thought with grim humor,
not really, not quite, but that won't stop those who think the worst of rulers from seeing them as such
.

So it was that on the second day of Boar Moon, King Al•lister and a fairly sizable entourage prepared to depart from Revelation Point Castle. In the back of his mind, Allister was aware that King Tedric and his party would not yet have arrived home—and that they would not until just a few days before their guests.