Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart (49 page)

With no thought for the dirt or gnaw marks on the bread, Waln scooped up the bread and shoved it into his mouth. As he chewed, feeling the grit against his teeth, he squatted down on the floor, blotting up loose crumbs with the tip of one finger. These he stuffed in after the bread, disregarding the fact that he shoved in more dirt than bread. He wished he'd not scared the mouse away, his mouth watering at the image of that warm mouthful.

Clarity of thought returned just enough to make Waln feel revolted at this descent into bestiality, and with that revulsion came an awareness of his predicament.

The bread—while not precisely fresh—had not been completely stale. Nor was it the heavy black bread one would expect a goatherd to drop. This bread had been a pale honey-brown in color, the color of the rolls that had graced the dinner table he had shared the night before with Lady Melina.

Therefore, the person who had dropped it had quite possibly been hunting for Waln. Perhaps the searcher had overlooked the haystack because both the hut and goat shed were nearer and were so much more obvious hiding places. The same late snow that had frozen the top of the haystack would have disguised any prints Waln would have left—especially if the searcher had come by when the light was poor.

Waln realized with a sudden thrill of fear how fortunate he had been—and that he dare not stay here a moment longer. The haystack might not escape a second inspection.

He did remain long enough to thoroughly search the hut, hoping to find some provision hidden away against need. However, though he searched with all the cunning he'd gained in his streetwise youth, he went unrewarded.

Satisfying his belly with great handfuls of the cleanest snow he could find, Baron Waln Endbrook trudged out into the darkness. When the wind began to blow and snow to fall, all he felt was gratitude at the certainty that his trail would be covered.

His mind centered itself on a dream of fire, a reddish-orange glow that gradually resolved itself into the memory of a gem-stone glimmering with citrine fire upon the forehead of a little girl.

E
arl Kestrel listened with very few interruptions while Doc presented their case. Firekeeper wondered if this was because Doc was his cousin.

Perhaps the fact that Derian wore his counselor's ring, the ruby in it glinting in the morning sunlight, had also reminded the earl that one of them had been considered wise enough to advise a king. Then again, perhaps Norvin Norwood had merely grown so accustomed to strange happenings that he no longer questioned them.

Firekeeper didn't know which was true, but she enjoyed trying to puzzle out the intricacies of human motivations as she might a game trail.

The earl had agreed to see them in his private study, a dark-paneled, thickly carpeted room that might have been oppressive but for the huge, multipaned window that dominated one wall. Firekeeper liked this window almost as much as the one in her favorite refuge. It was constructed in three sections that jutted out from the room in the style she had been told to call a "bay"—though as far as she could tell it bore no resemblance either to a body of water or the cry of a hound.

The individual panes were diamond-shaped and leaded into the three component panels. The beveled edges of the diamond-shaped panes caught the light in a fascinating fashion, creating random sparkles that transformed the entire construction into the heart of a gigantic crystalline gemstone.

The wolf-woman had been watching the dancing sparkles as Doc spoke, allowing her thoughts to drift. If she listened too closely she became all the more impatient to be off. She had just arrived at the conclusion that perhaps the sparkles more resembled the dancing of light on water than the cold glittering of gemstones when she heard the earl speak her name.

"So, Firekeeper," Norvin Norwood said, and his use of her wolf name seemed a good sign, "as I understand Cousin Jared, you will go after these stolen objects whether or not I give my permission."

Firekeeper met the earl's pale grey eyes.

"Yes. I give my word to a mother who is my mother before you is…"

"Are," Derian muttered automatically.

"Before you are my father."

Earl Kestrel stroked his beard.

"This once," he said at last, "your desire and my own run together."

Firekeeper blinked in surprise. She had expected—as had Derian and Doc—a long argument with the earl. With a slight twitching of his lips beneath his mustache that might have been a smile, the earl continued:

"Cousin Jared has presented your case very well—so well that had he not been gifted with the healing talent I might be tempted to have him train as a courtier."

"Eagle's broad wings forfend!" Doc protested, seeming honestly dismayed.

"We are faced," the earl continued without commenting on Doc's minor interruption, "with—if your report is correct, and I chose to believe that it is…"

"
Gracious of him
," Blind Seer commented dryly.

"… the potential releasing of forces that we had all hoped were banished from our land."

Firekeeper tilted her head to one side in inquiry.

"You mean these magic things?" she asked, adding a quick "sir" at the end of her sentence when Derian gently booted her—a thing that was fairly easy to do undetected because of where she sat on the floor.

"That is so."

As the earl continued, Firekeeper could tell he was making an effort to cast his thoughts into simple words and phrases rather than the embroidered bardic turns that came so easily to him. Even had he not been the heir to the Norwood Grant, Earl Kestrel would have been in demand as a storyteller—a tendency that made him lean toward elaborate phrasing whenever he felt a great moment was upon him.

"That is so," the earl repeated. "If these objects have been brought to the mainland, it is our duty to recover them."

"My duty," Firekeeper stated bluntly, feeling it was not too early to remind him, "is to take them home."

Earl Kestrel looked momentarily uneasy, but some thought smoothed the unease from his features.

"Before they can be taken anywhere," he said, "first we must have them. We agree on that."

"Yes." The wolf-woman gave a sharp nod.

"And I will give you what aid I can," the earl said. "Cousin Jared's presentation of events has convinced me that sending out an armed body of our local militia would be counterproductive. Their authority would end at the borders of my grant. My neighbors might rightly protest to the king and then there would be awkward questions to answer. Worse, rumors that we know what we know might get back to Queen Valora or to her agents. That, above all things, we cannot risk."

Firekeeper wrapped her arms around her bent knees, content to listen since the earl was saying what she wanted to hear.

"I will make excuses to cover your departure. Cousin Jared has suggested a complication in your old wounds. I think that, given his fame as a healer, that excuse would be seen through too easily. Rather, I suggest that I say that it is Sir Jared who has been called away. You had been feeling housebound, so I agreed to let you go with him. Counselor Derian will accompany you to deal with the mounts—after all, working with my stables was one of the reasons he came here."

The earl permitted himself a small smile. "And it can go unspoken that he is also known for his ability to work with you, my dear."

The affection in that last seemed genuine so Firekeeper gave an answering smile.

"Wendee Jay, if she agrees, will be sent as your chaperon. If not, I will find some other suitable woman to accompany you so that your honor will not be besmirched."

Firekeeper wondered idly what sort of man anyone thought could take advantage of her. Judging from Blind Seer's puffs of laughter, the wolf was having similar thoughts.

"This is good," Firekeeper said, when the earl leaned back in his chair, signaling the completion of his speech. "Thank you."

They left the earl's office well satisfied. Derian went to select appropriate horses. Each of them already had their own mount, of course, but they would still need a couple of pack mules. Sir Jared went to confer with Wendee Jay. Firekeeper returned to her room to inform Elation of the results of the conference.

The falcon could have attended, but the earl had seemed reluctant to have her decorate his study's carpets with hawk chalk. In the interest of gaining Norvin Norwood's goodwill Elation had agreed to stay in Firekeeper's room, where a canvas cover had been spread beneath her perch to facilitate cleaning.

Bursting into her room filled with good news, Firekeeper was surprised to find that the peregrine was not alone. Elise sat in a chair near the window, the book spread open on her lap illuminated by the morning light as it filtered through the loose curtain of her golden blonde hair.

"So the meeting went well?" Elise asked.

"It did," Firekeeper said.

She knew that Doc—and to a lesser extent Derian—were worried about potential complications if Elise insisted on accompanying them. Not only was Elise the heir to a barony, but she was not an outdoorswoman. Riding long hours in cold weather would test her in a fashion that it would not the others.

Firekeeper, with a wolf's cruel view of survival, felt that if Elise wanted to test herself she should be permitted. If she failed, they would leave her at the nearest town or village. If she succeeded, their pack would be stronger by one.

Briefly, the wolf-woman told Elise about the meeting.

"But Sir Jared didn't mention my going," Elise replied when Firekeeper had finished. "Nor did Derian Carter."

Firekeeper shook her head.

"Do you mind if I go with you?" Elise asked.

Firekeeper hesitated. "Winter is hard even on those who are winter-hard," she replied. "Many who are summer-strong die in winter."

Elise puffed indignantly, reminding Firekeeper of a squirrel preparing to scold.

"I know that," she said fiercely, "and I still think I can handle it. There will be villages along the way."

"I not stay in villages," Firekeeper reminded her. "Blind Seer not welcome there. Also, if we are to go fast, we may need camp when we can, not stop when a nice inn is shown."

Elise frowned. "So you don't want me."

"I not say," Firekeeper replied evenly. "Only want you to know truth. Truth is sometimes cold as winter."

"And if I am willing to try that cold?"

"Then you must do as we do and tell the earl where you go," Firekeeper said. "He look for you just as he look for us if we leave without saying."

"True."

Elise stood, looking out into the gardens as she considered what Firekeeper had said. The snow from, the day before still clung here and there, evidence enough that the sun's light was not even as warming as a candle flame. Firekeeper watched the young woman, unwilling to either persuade or dissuade.

At last Elise turned away from the window.

"You said Earl Kestrel was in his study?" she asked.

"When we left," Firekeeper agreed.

"I must go see if he can give me an audience," and in a swirl of skirts, Elise was gone.

D
erian Carter wondered if he would ever learn just what Elise had said to Norvin Norwood to persuade the earl to permit his honored guest to join their insane venture.

Had Elise reminded him that she was the daughter of a baron and that someday either he or his son would need to deal with her as a near equal? Had she hinted that she might be persuaded to ally her house with his own? Or had she simply stated that she would go where she would go and that if he thought wolves were willful, he would soon learn that they were nothing to highly born ladies?

Or maybe she had argued logically, presenting to the earl as she had to Doc the advantages to the venture if she were permitted to join the company.

Derian doubted that he would ever know, but whatever tactic Elise had employed, she had employed it well, for there was no doubting that she rode in their midst. Her coat was of winter-fox fur, silvery white and lined with lamb's wool. Her gloves and boots were lined with rabbit fur, and her hat was fur both within and without. Despite these trappings, she huddled in Cream Delight's saddle, only her eyes visible above the silk scarf she had wrapped around her face, and whenever the wind blew with particular fury she shivered.

That wind had blown up from the north on the morning of their departure, on the day following their conference with Earl Kestrel. It had carried the scent of snow on its breath. As Derian had moved about the stables readying their mounts, he couldn't help but remember old Toad's predictions when Derian had announced he was going to the Norwood Grant, that winter would be early and bitter this year.

Hunching his head against the cold, Derian tried to remember the proofs: something about how many nuts the trees had borne that autumn and something else about how early the wild grape leaves had turned. The final proof had been how thickly the horses' winter coats were coming in.

Derian couldn't deny that Roanne's coat had lost some of its summertime sheen, but he couldn't swear that it was any thicker than usual. Still, he wished that Firekeeper hadn't been so determined to set out before the storm sealed them in.

She
didn't seem to mind the cold. Maybe it was because she was pacing them on foot rather than riding. Certainly the exercise would be warming and the bulk of the horses acted as a windbreak, but slogging through drifts that sometimes topped her boots couldn't be precisely comfortable.

Boot tops.

Derian grinned. Those at least had been a victory. When Firekeeper had tromped down the stairs that morning she had looked frustrated but not in the least sullen. At first Derian had credited Wendee Jay with the victory in this often-fought battle. He'd been surprised to learn that Firekeeper credited him with—or blamed him for—convincing her.

"You talk of bare feetprints in the snow," she had said, holding out a foot in front of her, and glowering at the elegant work of the cobbler's art that adorned it as if it were a disfiguring boil. "I no can leave feetprints in boots. Just boot prints and everyone have those."