Through Wolf's Eyes (41 page)

"Queen," King Tedric repeated steadily. "The one who will rule here after I join the ancestors."

And Firekeeper thought of power with a greater reach
than her single Fang. Of humans groveling before her as a wolf did
before the Ones, of the power to command, of that power turned to find
the answer to the question that had nipped the edges of her mind as the
pack nipped at the heels of an elk, and from that last image came her
answer.

"No," she said. "A queen should be to her people as
the Ones are to the pack: the greatest strength to guide and preserve
through winter. I could not be a queen. I do not yet have the wisdom."

She looked squarely at the king, awaiting his anger,
for she knew that he had offered her a great honor and she had cast it
away like a too small fish into the stream. Tedric, however, was
nodding agreement. Queen Elexa looked hesitant, but Firekeeper thought
she was pleased. Only Sir Dirkin maintained a face of wooden
impassivity.

Feeling as if she was stalking some elusive prey, Firekeeper curled her fingers in Blind Seer's ruff, awaiting developments.

King Tedric asked, "Are you certain about this,
Firekeeper? Your young wisdom could be guided by advisors until it
grew. I would appoint such and many others would offer their wisdom
unasked."

This was Earl Kestrel's vision voiced. Still Firekeeper must shake her head.

"I am a wolf. Perhaps two-legged kind take leadership
before they can lead, but for a wolf that is folly and such folly is death—not just for the wolf but often for all the pack."

Now King Tedric smiled a sour smile. "Would that all
my nieces and nephews were raised wolves, Firekeeper. All they think of
is the honor and the power, not the responsibility. That is why I must
meet this Allister Seagleam. My father laid the foundation for his
birth. I must see the structure that has risen on that foundation
before I reject it entirely."

As Firekeeper struggled to follow the king's imagery,
she realized that her afternoons in the gardens with Holly had taught
her a great deal. Through them, she had come to understand the hidden
preparation that rested beneath so many human endeavors. It was a
different way of living from the season-structured roaming of the pack,
yet a valid one for frail humankind.

King Tedric continued, "Yet even as I follow this
course, I must be faithful to my own responsibilities. Queen Elexa can
reign in my absence, but even with her firmly in charge I cannot leave
the relative safety of this castle without naming my heir."

"Who?" Firekeeper asked, wondering which of the many will finally become the One.

The old man bared yellow teeth in an expression that reminded her very much of a wolf and answered with a question:

"Can you read, Firekeeper?"

"No." She shrugged. "Derian tries, but the black marks on the page won't talk to me."

"Or," laughed Queen Elexa, her thin elderly voice
heard for the first time in a great while, "you will not speak with
them. That is closer to the truth as I have heard it from Aurella
Wellward."

Firekeeper stared at the queen, her eyes round with
indignant astonishment. "How she speak of me? I have not spoken three
words with her!"

"But her daughter is your friend," the queen replied.
"Every scrap of information about you, my dear, has been gathered and
traded, shared and twisted every which way.
You do not think we have left you to go your way unnoticed, do you?"

Actually, this was what Firekeeper
had
believed, for ever since the king had granted her freedom of the castle
she had felt herself unimpeded but for the ever-watchful presence of
Derian. If anything, outside of the small circle of friends she had
been able to cultivate, she had felt herself slighted. Queen Elexa's
words revealed a spiderweb of human chatter as complex and useful as
birdsong in a spring woodland.

Before she had time to contemplate this further, King Tedric was speaking:

"Although you do not read, you seem to understand the
idea of reading—that the black marks on the page talk with the voice of
the writer."

"I do."

"Then this is my intention. Before I leave, I will
write the name of my heir on a special document called a will. Two
copies shall be made. One will travel with me. The other will be sealed
and locked away, to be opened only if I die. If I do not, then I am
free to change what is written. If not, I have fulfilled my
responsibility."

"How," Firekeeper asked, tentative before these mysteries, "will they know one piece of paper from another?"

"The marks of writing are distinct from person to person," Tedric said.

Like scents on a trail
, Firekeeper thought.
All deer smell like deer, but one deer smells more like itself than it does like all others.

"Furthermore, both copies of my will and the boxes
into which they shall be locked will be impressed with my personal
seal. No other will be able to forge those marks."

"I understand," Firekeeper said, having seen similar
arrangements on the documents that Duchess Kestrel sent to her son.
"Why not just tell before you go?"

"For two reasons," the king replied. "One is that I
may decide that Allister Seagleam is the best person to be king after
me. If I publicly designate one person as my heir, then renounce him or
her for no reason other than I have found
another I think would be better, I may create a feud between factions."

"But better is better!"

"Not all see this as simply as you do," the king said
sadly. "And they are more correct than you are. Rulership of humans
takes more than strength and wisdom. Sometimes it takes more uncertain
qualities like charisma or political allies."

"If you say," she agreed.

"I do."

Momentarily, the king looked so stern that Firekeeper
had to resist the impulse to lick the underside of his jaw and beg
forgiveness. Then he continued:

"The other reason for not naming my heir openly is that I will create a danger for myself."

"Why?"

"Once I name my heir, I become a danger to that heir
because I could change my mind and name another. The heir personally
might not fear my changing my mind, but there would be others who would
think it wisest to end my life before I could select a rival. Needless
to say, I hope that whoever I choose would not countenance such
behavior, but the heir might not even know what was done for his or her
benefit."

Firekeeper shook her head, feeling it buzz with
undesired complexities. She could not believe Elise—for example— would
wish her great-uncle dead, but eager, watchful Ivon Archer was another
matter and he was nothing beside sour, spiteful Zorana.

Sir Dirkin broke his own silence to add, "There are
too many plausible ways that an elderly monarch could die while
traveling or in an unexpected spate of battle. I have vowed to protect
King Tedric from these, but that restricts my own freedom greatly."

"Therefore," King Tedric said, "I have a request to ask of you."

Firekeeper was surprised. She had thought that once
she refused the king's offer to make her queen he would be finished
with her. She had not realized that all the talk that had
followed was anything more than the tongue wagging of the type Earl Kestrel was so fond.

"Ask," she said, remembering the courtesies offered
from Royal Wolf to Royal Wolf. "You have fed me and I have grown fat in
your keeping. If I can feed you in turn, I will."

A small smile flitted across King Tedric's face, but instantly vanished and he replied with equal formality:

"Come with me to Hope. Be ears and eyes for Dirkin
and myself. Those skills your upbringing granted you have not escaped
my notice. One of the difficulties I suspect will result from my naming
my heir only in my will is that many of those who believe themselves
potential heirs will choose to join my train. Those who believe
themselves the chosen one will wish to stay close so as not to lose in
comparison to Allister Seagleam. Those who are less certain will still
wish to be nearby in case some valorous deed or great service to me
might bring them into my favor.

"I cannot refuse any of them without causing more
speculation. Those who were refused would plot behind me— wondering if
they were left behind to preserve them from danger or merely because
they were no longer of use to me. They would envy those who went in my
train. I wish I could refuse them all, but to do the latter would rob
my forces of three able commanders—Norvin Norwood, Ivon Archer, and
Purcel Trueheart—and in my heart I dread that these negotiations cannot
end without bloodshed."

Firekeeper nodded solemnly. "I will go with you."

Sir Dirkin reminded her, "You will be placing
yourself in danger. There are those who will hate you for this meeting,
believing that the king has selected you his heir. Those who would
resort to assassinating a king would think still less of assassinating
a rival."

"Let them try!" Firekeeper said, hand falling to the knife at her waist.

Blind Seer—who had learned enough of human speech to
follow this talk, though the shape of his mouth would not let him speak
it as well—growled fierce agreement. If the falcon in the tree outside
flapped her wings in agreement, only Dirkin, silent and watchful,
noticed.

"I will watch my Firekeeper!"
Blind Seer said in wolf-speech and it almost seemed that the king and his advisors agreed.

"I know you will take care," Tedric said, "and that
your companions, human and otherwise, will guard you. Still, the danger
is real and must be accepted."

"I accept it then," Firekeeper said with a shrug, "but I will still come with you and help Sir Dirkin watch."

"And I would have you watch my kinfolk as well," King
Tedric said, "for the death of even one under suspicious circumstances
could create the very feuding I am hoping to avoid."

Firekeeper nodded agreement, but she could not resist saying:

"Wolves solve these matters more simply."

"But wolves are not humans," King Tedric replied, "and I am hoping that my humans are not wolves."

E
ARLY ON THE MORNING
following Firekeeper's meeting with King Tedric, Derian Carter was sent
into the city by Earl Kestrel. Although he had a list of errands to
run, he was also at leave to visit his family.

"The earl is a fair master," he explained to his
mother around a mouthful of freshly baked oatmeal cookies, the fat,
round cookies lavishly supplied with raisin. "As he plans for us all to
depart along with the king's train, he has given those of us who will
attend him leave."

"Does Earl Kestrel simply continue trailing in the king's wake, hoping for him to select your Firekeeper as his heir?"

Derian shook his head. "Some perhaps, but he has also
volunteered his services as a commander of cavalry and the king has
accepted them."

"And you?" Vernita asked eagerly. "You ride as lightly as
foam on the crest of a wave—are you going as a member of Earl Kestrel's unit?"

"No," Derian replied. "I continue as attendant upon the Lady Blysse."

A mixture of disappointment and relief flitted across Vernita's pretty face. She asked carefully:

"And are you content with this?"

"Perfectly, Mother," Derian assured her, although at
first he had been hurt and angry, knowing from his moon-span of
residence in the castle that he rode as well or better than most of the
King's Horse. He could even shoot a bow from the saddle, though his
skill with a lance was less expert.

Patting his mother's hand, he repeated to her what Earl Kestrel himself had said when Derian dared protest:

"Earl Kestrel says that I am the only person
Firekeeper truly trusts. The earl hates admitting this, but it's true.
She has made a few friends, but I am the one she returns to again and
again for explanations."

"Is it not perhaps time for her to learn to trust others?" Vernita hazarded.

Derian shook his head ruefully. "Mother, three and a
half moon-spans ago she was a wild animal, eating raw meat, sleeping in
the open, drinking blood as readily as water. We have succeeded in
putting a veneer of civilization over that animal, but the animal is
there, ready to burst free."

"I have seen her," Vernita said doubtfully, "just
once and that from a distance as she rode in an open carriage with the
Lady Archer. One seemed as much the lady as the other."

A full-throated laugh burst from Derian at the comparison between delicate Elise and Firekeeper.

"Oh, Mother, appearances are deceptive. I remember
that day. Firekeeper had been invited to dine with Duke Peregrine and
his family at their city manse. A house guard, improperly prepared for
her or perhaps merely determined to show how he would dare what the
King's Own Guard would not, tried to take her knife. Quick as breath
Firekeeper punched him squarely in the nose, then followed through with
a kick that nearly shattered one of the man's knees. Then, pretty as
could be, she curtsied to the shocked duke, apologizing for spilling blood on his carpet."