Through Wolf's Eyes (40 page)

Only Lady Elise walked by the Kestrel contingent with
something like a friendliness in her bearing. She even reached out a
hand to pat Blind Seer's grey fur.

"You look very elegant and graceful," she said to Fire-keeper as they passed. "Quite the lady."

Derian wondered why Firekeeper seemed so very pleased.

F
IREKEEPER HAD FEARED
that Earl Kestrel would try to inveigle himself into her meeting with
King Tedric. Frequently the earl reminded her of a lesser wolf in a
large pack, always trying to cut into the head wolf's share of the
kill, always testing to see if this was the moment to challenge for
primacy.

She was pleasantly surprised when he motioned her
entourage to a halt in the hall and did not even try to press into the
waiting room.

"Lady Blysse Norwood," he announced to the officer of the King's Own standing to one side of the door, "to see His Majesty."

"She is expected," the officer said. "Pass through, Lady Blysse."

No mention was made of Blind Seer and Firekeeper did
not bother to ask permission. She nodded to her escort, adding a
reassuring smile for Derian, who looked quite worried.

"Thank you for bringing me."

Earl Kestrel replied, "We will wait here to escort you back when His Majesty has concluded his business."

For all the calm formality of his words, the earl's eyes shone with anticipated glory.

Let through without question or search into a luxuriously furnished waiting area, Firekeeper went into the king's parlor.

Unlike the waiting room, it was simply furnished. A
cluster of fine chairs upholstered for comfort, not for ostentation,
rested on a thick rug. In the center of this loose circle was a low
table set with light refreshments. Light shone in from open windows
curtained with gauze against glare and insects.

From outside of one of these windows came a brief squawk that told Firekeeper that Elation was watching.

Three people awaited her: King Tedric, Queen Elexa, and
a
man Firekeeper recognized as someone important in the King's Own Guard.
All three rose to greet her, a courtesy Firekeeper appreciated since
she knew that it was not her due—would not even be her due if she were
the king's heir. She accepted the gesture as it was meant, a welcome
meant to put her at her ease. When bows and curtsies had been
exchanged, King Tedric motioned her to a chair.

"Be comfortable, Lady Blysse, or would you prefer that I call you Firekeeper?"

"Firekeeper is what wolf call me," she replied with
singular tact—for her. "Blysse what Earl Kestrel call me. Please take
your comfort."

Queen Elexa smiled. "Then we shall call you
Firekeeper here in private, but in public, so as not to hurt Earl
Kestrel's feelings, we shall refer to you as Blysse."

In this, Firekeeper recognized the elaborate
etiquette that established rank, so like and yet so unlike the
groveling and playful biting used for the same purpose by a wolf pack.

"Let me present to you," King Tedric continued, "one
of my most trusted advisors, Sir Dirkin Eastbranch. By rights, Sir
Dirkin should be commander of the King's Own, but his own choice has
been to accept lower rank so that he will be free to follow my most
frivolous command."

"Rarely," Sir Dirkin said in a voice that came from deep in his chest, "have Your Majesty's orders been frivolous."

King Tedric laughed and Firekeeper sensed a
longstanding joke. Dirkin Eastbranch was a tall man with chiseled
features that included the squarest chin Firekeeper had ever seen.
Something about his upright posture reminded Fire-keeper of a tree, a
resemblance enhanced by the weathered texture of his skin. Like many
soldiers, he was clean-shaven, but his brown hair was long and thick.
She still had difficulty guessing human ages, but she suspected that
Dirkin was older than Doc, maybe even as old as the earl.

"By now," King Tedric said as Queen Elexa leaned
forward to pour early-pressed cider into elegant glass goblets, "you
will have heard that I plan to travel south to the border of our
kingdom and Bright Bay."

King Tedric paused to let his guest reply. Firekeeper didn't
say
anything, but sat looking alert and interested. She knew that Earl
Kestrel was to have said nothing of the king's plans to anyone and
refused, for all her occasional annoyance with her guardian, to betray
his indiscretion.

After a moment, King Tedric continued, a slight smile that she might have imagined just touching his lips.

"To tell you something that I did not mention during
this morning's conference—and that I would prefer did not leave this
room—Allister Seagleam, my sister Caryl's only child, has requested a
meeting with me."

By now Firekeeper had memorized the complete list of
competitors for the throne and heard their various merits argued so
many times that she had no trouble placing this one.

"The Pledge Child," she said, remembering what Derian had told her, "some say the favorite of the common folk."

This time she was certain that the king was pleased. Queen Elexa also nodded approval, saying:

"Not all our nieces and nephews would speak so openly
of Duke Allister. Most seem to feel that we should deny him. What do
you think?"

Firekeeper shrugged, remembered this was not an elegant reply, then shrugged again. "How can I say until I have met him?"

This won a small, quickly swallowed, chuckle from Sir Dirkin.

"That is precisely what we think," King Tedric said.
"I have prayed long and hard at the shrine to my ancestors and I have
come to the conclusion that I would be betraying my father's dream if I
did not at least meet with the man whose very birth is the result of my
father's hopes for peace.

"However, in order to assuage my Great Houses, I have
had to promise that I will not leave for such dangerous territories
without first assuring that the succession is safe. They believe that
in this way they will make it impossible for me to name Allister
Seagleam my heir, for how can I name one heir and then denounce him or
her without reason in favor of another?"

Firekeeper nodded to show that she had understood.

"So, Lady Blysse," the king continued, "would you like to be queen?"

P
RINCE NEWELL MIGHT HAVE KNOWN
even before King Tedric did what news was contained in the letter sent
by Queen Gustin. Whether or not this was the case, it was certainly
true that he was determined to be on the spot when the representatives
of the two monarchies met. This was quite critical to the fruition of
his plans.

Therefore, the prince made mysterious and cryptic comments to the captain of
Wings
. These comments made that faithful if unimaginative man quite certain
that once again the prince was placing his life at risk for the good of
the Crown. Since
Wings
's captain had repeatedly benefitted from the information that Prince Newell had brought to him, news that had made
Wings
the most successful ship in Hawk Haven's small navy, he was willing to do without his Commander of Marines for a time.

If it also crossed the captain's mind that the
reserve commander was a less willful man with far fewer highly placed
and important connections and thus far easier to overrule in matters of
tactics and suchlike, the captain was not likely to say this to Prince
Newell.

Instead, he assigned a couple of sailors to lower the
small cutter that was the prince's own property (although Newell was
generous to a fault in sharing it with other officers for their need
and entertainment), told the quartermaster to grant the prince anything
he needed within reason from ship's
stores, and bid Newell fair winds and fast sailing.

Racing before the wind toward his destination, Newell
was assisted in his tasks with sail and line only by Rook, his personal
manservant. Rook was a sandy-haired, quiet, forgettable fellow, as
efficient as Earl Kestrel's Valet, although somewhat quicker with a
knife in the back in a dark alley. Newell had caught him robbing the
bedchamber of Duchess Merlin during a house party at the Norwood
country manse. In return for not being turned over to Duchess Kestrel's
executioners, Rook had sworn Prince Newell his abiding loyalty.

Skin stinging with salt, eyes red with concentration,
Newell Shield distracted himself from discomfort by meditating on those
things that set him apart from his competitors for the throne. As these
were also the qualities he felt would make him a superior king, it was
a pleasant self-indulgence.

For one, he thought, tightening a line around a brace
and tacking slightly, they were sheep whereas he was a wolf. All one
had to do to be sure of this was observe the lot of them flocking
around King Tedric, baaing compliments and waiting for the monarch to
grace one of them—or one of their lambs—with title and kingdom. They
thought that blood was merit enough.

He admitted that a few of them, Ivon Archer, in
particular, had distinguished themselves for their own achievements.
Rolfston Redbriar, though, he was a real bleater—had been since they
were all children gathering with the rest of the extended nobility for
the Festival of the Eagle.

Little sister Melina had Rolfston neatly in line. Sometimes Newell was almost certain Melina
was
a sorceress—not that a woman would need to be one to direct Rolfston.
No matter the truth, the reputation had garnered her a certain measure
of respect. It was to Newell's own advantage that Melina had never
realized that respect based on fear can only go so far, especially for
a younger daughter of a Great House with no prospects for inheritance.

And then there was sweet Zorana. She was a lusty lady. It had been delightful to renew their intimacy. Yet in the
final
assessment, she had done nothing more to advance her position than
bleat and baa—and breed. Four living children! He wondered at Zorana's
lack of wisdom. It was not as if she had a great deal to offer her
brood in the way of prospects. Purcel would make a good career in the
military even before he inherited, but what did she plan to do with the
rest?

Newell laughed and salt spray splashed into his
mouth— make them little ladies and lords with a queen for a mama!
Doubtless when he was king Zorana would be making sheep's eyes at him
and hinting that she'd be quite happy to poison Aksel Trueheart and
become his queen—and provide him with a tidy little line of ready-made
heirs in the process. The idea would have its merits, but he was going
beyond Hawk Haven for his queen.

The thought of Gustin IV with her long sunset-gold
hair, laughing eyes, and breasts like a ship's figurehead stirred him,
soaked with cold seawater as he was. She would be somewhere in her late
twenties now, ripe but far from withering. There was no way a woman
with a body like that could be barren, no matter what rumors said. Her
lack of children had to be the rooted in that effete husband of hers.

Newell had heard that a woman became lustier in her
middle years, especially if she hadn't borne a child, as if her body
was telling her to hurry up and be about it. He looked forward to
finding out if that tale was true.

If everything went according to plan he'd be bedding
Gustin by this next summer—those Bright Bay folks would just need to be
reasonable regarding mourning periods for her late husband. After all,
a king shouldn't need to wait about getting an heir.

Prince Newell smiled into the sun, high and gold like
the one on the coat of arms of Bright Bay's royal house. He'd already
designed the arms for his new kingdom—a fresh design that eschewed both
eagles and suns. He'd already planned so much. Now, at last, he was
going to have a chance to make those plans reality.

"Q
UEEN
?"
FIREKEEPER REPLIED
,
thinking more rapidly than she could ever remember doing before.
Unknown to her, for the first time since soon after the fire that
destroyed her parents, her thoughts took shape in human words and
symbols. A bridge was built.