Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart (65 page)

No more than a half-dozen people, their young guide told Derian and Firekeeper with peculiar pride, knew their way through the entire complex.

Derian had commented that this seemed a highly inconvenient way to run a center of government, to which the innkeeper's son had replied with that peculiarly New Kelvinese air of superiority that not everyone could learn the mazes that connected the Earth Spires, for they were deliberately kept confusing through the use of magic.

Firekeeper wondered whether this was true. By means of magic—or sometimes by means of
ancient
magic—seemed to be the boy's most common explanation for anything complicated or confusing. One rather messy night, she'd learned herself about the existence of underground sewers of which the boy was apparently ignorant.
He'd
bragged that the city's waste was carried away by magic.

Magic or not, the area surrounding Thendulla Lypella did seem the best guarded of any point in the city. As of yet, the wolf-woman hadn't found a way inside. The walls were inconveniently high for climbing. Even if she had managed to find foot- and toeholds on their smoothly finished sides, their tops sloped to a gradual peak that discouraged gripping fingers.

Each of the five gates was constantly guarded, even the broad one nearest to the kitchens where boring things like food supplies and clean laundry were delivered. Firekeeper supposed she could hide herself in one of the supply carts if necessary, but that would mean leaving Blind Seer behind. A slim young woman might hide amid bags of clean sheets; a huge wolf could not.

Firekeeper was beginning to hope that she would not need to penetrate Thendulla Lypella at all when Bold located the artifacts.

The crow had spent much of each day patiently soaring around each of Thendulla Lypella's polished stone spires, inspecting each of the buildings below, which—though small in comparison with the spires themselves—sometimes rose to as many as five stories. With a patience and determination for which his kind was not widely celebrated, Bold landed on windowsills or perched on the edges of parapets—anything to get a glimpse inside.

The peregrine Elation acted as the crow's guardian, and kept him on course when the maze of walls confused him and threatened to send him back over terrain already covered. Elation longed to join the search herself, but knew that she was a showy bird of a type coveted by humans. Moreover, she did not understand the language of New Kelvin and lacked the crow's facility for learning.

In the end, that knowledge of language proved to be the key, though as Derian later commented, no one without wings could have hoped to overhear the conversation that had cinched the crow's suspicions.

Bold had perched on one of the crenellated battlements of a certain tower that for some days had attracted his attention. What had first drawn his attention had been the interesting smells eddying from its vicinity.

First, there was burning, as of many braziers and warming pans. Nearly to a one—Firekeeper did not feel herself a fit judge—the humans felt that even New Kelvinese, mad as they were about tradition, would not choose to winter in tower rooms when, as observation showed, there were plenty of empty rooms equipped with chimneys and other such modern conveniences. So Bold had begun to center his search around this tower.

What was being burned was even more interesting. Bold and Elation scented not just wood and charcoal, as one might expect if a sudden influx of visitors had necessitated these towers being turned into living quarters. They smelled herbs and spices, bone and blood, even melted metals. Had the reek been in the vicinity of the Alchemists' Hall—they were too wise to the dangers of their craft to maintain anything as lofty as a palace—the birds might not have questioned it, but here among the Earth Spires it was an unusual combination.

The spire's windows were opened from time to time, as if a cross draft was welcome despite the chill it brought. Unfortunately, the smooth facade of the structure as a whole had not included jutting exterior windowsills in its design. When the winds whipped about the structures, Bold was often beaten away from his precarious perch and had to make his laborious return on wings that ached increasingly with the passage of days.

He took to perching on the parapets to rest, protecting himself from the winds by huddling between the crenellated battlements. Taking pity on him, Elation dropped the crow things to eat, including things a falcon found rather nasty, like bread soaked in bacon fat. She knew, however, what such flying took out of even her and admired the smaller bird's persistence.

Had it not been for his jealous refusal to abandon one such morsel, Bold would probably have flown away when the two humans emerged onto the parapets. This would not have been cowardice, but reflex. A wild bird, even a Royal Crow, did not linger near humans willingly.

The two humans were apparently seeking a breath of air untainted by smoke and other foul odors, for they reeked of burnt bone and hot metal. They were clad alike in serviceable robes of pale grey, their sleeves tied back from their hands. Their faces were uniformly scarlet, though tattooing showed through the paint. The whites of their eyes were nearly as red as the smeared paints on their faces. Yet for all this, they were cheerful.

"That last may have done it," said one. "I swear I saw an image move within the glass."

"As did I," his companion agreed. "A faint figure but sure. It was deep blue, like a midsummer sky at evening. There was nothing of that color in the room for the mirror to reflect back to us."

"I concur," the first said. "All of us wear working paint and robes: red and dirty white. The walls are grey stone, the carpets old and their colors muddy. Nothing could have given back that hue."

The two men went on in this fashion for some time, repeating as excited people will the details of their victory, embellishing with some small anecdote or flourish until Bold felt as if he had been within the room.

Piece of bread now swallowed, the crow hopped from foot to foot, wondering if he should fly away to spread the news he had or wait to hear more.

"That makes one of the three," the first continued, stilling the crow in his impatience. "The ring and the comb have yet to yield their secrets."

"And even the mirror only begins," blinking his bloodshot eyes. "We are at the beginning of a long road."

"But now," the first encouraged him, "we know this is a road worth traveling. We know for certain that the foreign woman has not led us astray for some odd purpose of her own."

"True," the second replied, then added with some haste, "but then I never doubted her veracity and trustworthiness."

"Never!" the first agreed.

It seemed to Bold that they glanced around uncomfortably, especially at the door they had left blocked open behind them.

"We should be going in now," the first continued. "The thaumaturges will be eager to make another attempt."

"Indeed."

"Leave the door open or closed?"

"Close it for now. We could use the ventilation, but I'm not taking initiative. Tempers are too short."

The sealing of the heavy door closed off any further sound, but Bold had already leapt into the air. A black arrow with glinting eyes, he swept from the heights, plummeting down with all possible speed.

Elation's dive was swifter still, and the peregrine banked at the crow's side.

"News?" she shrieked.

"Find the wolf-child!" Bold replied. "I'll be at the stables. How my wings hurt!"

But the falcon was already gone, and so the crow preserved his pride.

When Firekeeper heard Bold's report she didn't know whether to be elated or dismayed. True, the artifacts were found, but how was she to get to them? The spire in which the New Kelvinese were working was at the heart of the cluster.

Praising Bold, she went to find her comrades. Maybe they would have some solution to what seemed to her an insoluble puzzle.

W
hen Firekeeper came panting up to him with her news, Derian arranged a meeting in Doc's consulting room. Hasamemorri had already shown herself vastly curious about the peculiar activities of her foreign tenants, hauling her tremendous bulk down the stairs on any excuse.

Usually Hasamemorri restricted her visits to the shared kitchen or to offering comfort to the patients in the infirmary. She was far too much in awe of Sir Jared to invade his consulting room without invitation or appointment.

Business was over for the day—barring an accident like the one that had done so much to spread the word of Doc's talent. The evening meal had also been finished—Wendee's preparations being of the sort that could not wait without being rained.

Happily
, Derian thought,
Firekeeper still has that wolfish reverence for food. Even though she's nearly out of her skin with worry, she won't let food go to waste. I don't think she thought much of the mushroom omelet, though
.

Now, however, both meal and washing up completed, the household gathered in the consulting room. Wendee handed around mugs of tea—some exotic blend that Oculios the alchemist had given to Doc. It smelled like the spices Derian's mother hoarded for special baking projects, carrying within the warm scent an unexpected surge of longing for home.

Stirring a dripping spoonful of honey into his cup, Derian looked over to where Firekeeper sat on the floor, her hand resting on Blind Seer's head. The wolf was apparently asleep. Bold and Elation sat rather more alertly on the perches that Lord Edlin had made for them, Bold turning a piece of bread over and over in his claw as if looking for the best place to begin eating it.

Both Elise and Doc looked as if they would welcome a good night's sleep rather than a tactical counsel. Although their medical practice didn't quite have customers lining along the street, they had attracted an unprecedented amount of business in a mere handful of days.

Last night, both had been up late helping deliver a baby. Mother and child had survived, much to the astonishment of the midwife, who had loudly protested against the father's bringing in not only a foreigner but a
male
. Elise's fluency and tact had both been tested on that call.

Turning to Firekeeper, Derian asked, "Do you want me to summarize what you told me earlier?"

The wolf-woman nodded gratefully. As was often the case when she was excited, she had lost a good deal of her command of the language.

Derian noted Wendee's slightly disapproving frown. She felt that Firekeeper needed to overcome her tendency to depend on others to smooth the way through awkward human interactions. This time, Derian chose to ignore Wendee's advice—though largely he agreed.

"The big news first," he said. "Firekeeper has located the missing artifacts."

An indignant caw that needed no translation interrupted him before he could go further.

"Excuse me," Derian corrected himself. "Bold located the missing artifacts—or thinks he has. Elation, however, is inclined to agree. She went back for a second look after she found Firekeeper and told her to wait for Bold at the stables."

No one interrupted as Derian summarized the account Firekeeper had given him earlier, not even Lord Edlin, who had shown a disconcerting tendency to verbal ejaculations along the lines of "What?" and "Astonishing!" This time the young heir apparent to the Kestrel Duchy simply sat grinning foolishly, as if he was listening to some bardic lay rather than being intimate to an unfolding crisis.

I suppose we're all somewhat to blame for that
, Derian thought.
We've kept Lord Edlin in the background ever since he joined us, even though the very manner of his joining us should have made us see his value. I suppose it's that grin of his and the way he makes calf-eyes at Firekeeper. He seems like such a boy
.

When Derian finished, however, it was Edlin who spoke first.

"Well, that's really wonderful," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Wonderful! Wonderful! But, I say, what are we going to do next? I don't imagine that Elation and Bold can just nip in there and fetch out these artifacts? They don't sound too big, not if what Bold heard is right—a ring, a comb, and a mirror, what?"

Derian found himself turning to the birds, as if they could speak, but of course it was Firekeeper who replied. Her expression said quite clearly that though she hadn't understood half of Edlin's babbling, she had caught the gist.

"Bold no think they can," she said seriously, something in her manner making clear that the matter had been discussed at length. "He say the door to the top close from down."

"Do you mean the door from the roof closes from below?" Wendee asked.

"That right," Firekeeper said impatiently. "So I say."

Wendee didn't say anything further, but her expression commented eloquently, "
Not quite, Lady Firekeeper
."

Edlin went on cheerfully. "Well, if it closes from below, I guess it opens from there too, what?"

Firekeeper blinked at him, then nodded.

"Windows," she continued, "there are, on each—" She frowned, hunting for a word. "—level of tower. Windows are closed most of time and when open windows have—" She waved her hand in the air, miming some obstruction.

"Bars?" Edlin guessed brightly, as if this was some party game.

Firekeeper frowned at him.

"Not just bars, I think." She glanced around the room, her gaze coming to rest on the patterned wooden screen that Doc used to grant privacy when a patient was too shy to undress before him.

"More like that, I think," she said.

Elation made a staccato cacking sound. Firekeeper nodded and corrected herself.

"Like that but with bigger holes," she said. "Still, holes too small for even Royal Crow."

Now it was Bold's turn to interrupt. His caw was accompanied by a rippling of his feathers that Derian felt certain carried as much meaning as the sounds he made.

"Bold say," Firekeeper translated patiently, "that he could get through and maybe out with something small—like a ring is small—but not with mirror or comb if they any size. Crows," she added, "are great thieves."