Through Wolf's Eyes (60 page)

"They say," Derian offered, "you can judge a man by his children or his dog."

"True. Pity his dog isn't here. His children are old
enough to have learned to act as they think they should rather than how
they are. Let's talk for a moment about those you
do
know. How about your charge? How about Firekeeper? Should I make her my heir?"

Derian swallowed hard. He knew what Earl Kestrel would want him to say. Knew, too, what he was going to say.

"I don't think so, sir. Not unless you can be sure
you'll be around to educate her. She's as honest as the day is long and
brave as a wolf, loyal, too, but those things aren't necessarily the
qualities a monarch needs."

King Tedric chuckled dryly. "Interesting. She didn't
think she was ready to be monarch either. I'm certain that Earl Kestrel
would think differently."

"He has hopes for her, sir. You can't blame him for that."

"I don't. I respect him for his ambition while
condemning him for it at the same time. I'm certain that he honestly
hoped to find Barden alive when he went out into the western lands.
Barden would have been able to make a case for himself or for Blysse.
Firekeeper with her odd habits and weird upbringing is a much less easy
piece to situate advantageously on the board."

The king's use of Firekeeper and Blysse as separate
names for seemingly separate individuals had not escaped Derian.
Knowing that he was out of line, but unable to resist, Derian asked:

"Sir, do you think that Firekeeper is your granddaughter?"

A smile that might be called mischievous curved the old man's lips.

"If I told you what I think would you swear to say
nothing of this matter—not even to Firekeeper herself? I have my
reasons at this time for withholding public admission one way or
another."

Derian's heart, which had slowed its panicked
thumping, now felt as if it was going to burst out of his chest with
excitement and fear.

"You have my word of honor, sir, sworn on my society patron, the Horse."

"Very good, then. I accept your word." The king bent
his head so that his lips nearly touched Derian's ear. "Firekeeper is
not my granddaughter, Blysse, but I know who she is."

Disappointment, relief, and curiosity warred for a moment, then Derian asked:

"Who?"

The king leaned back slightly. "Firekeeper is the
daughter of two members of my son's expedition. Her mother was the
daughter of a lady you have befriended: Holly Gardener. She was named
Sarena, after a maternal aunt who died young. Firekeeper's father was
Donal Hunter, a steady man with a gift for the bow and a love of the
wilds. They said of him that he understood animals so well it was as if
he could speak to them. Firekeeper's birth name was Tamara, after her
deceased paternal grandmother."

Hearing this, the world spun behind Derian's eyes
then righted itself. Once he had heard this, the truth seemed obvious.
It would explain so much about Firekeeper—he couldn't think of her as
Tamara. Another question burst forth before he could school his tongue.

"Sir, how did you know?"

"When I was a boy," King Tedric replied, unfazed by
Derian's effrontery, "Holly Gardener was one of my playmates. I knew
her and her sisters well. Firekeeper has the look of Holly's youngest
sister Pansy at that same age, though she takes after her father's
mother as well. I saw the resemblance nearly at once and confirmed that
Sarena had been among Barden's recruits. Tamara—like Blysse—is listed
among the records."

Catching Derian's surprised stare the old king chuckled.
"We
were not so grand then. The Great Houses were still learning to feel
their importance. My own mother, Rose, was not from a Great House.
Holly's family was related to my mother's—cousins, I think—and came
into castle service because they possessed the Green Thumb quite
reliably. Their relation to Queen Rose is one reason why they hold
their place in perpetuity, for as long as the Thumb continues to
manifest in their line. Thus far it has not failed them. Nor would I
banish them if it did. Their knowledge and wisdom means far more than a
chance talent."

"I wonder," Derian said, thinking aloud, "if Holly knows . . . knows, I mean, who Firekeeper is?"

King Tedric nodded. "I am certain that she suspects,
but, like me, she knows that Firekeeper is best preserved by doubt
about her origins. The Gardeners have little they could give Firekeeper
even if they did claim her. Best then that Fire-keeper keep to her
recent alliances. Earl Kestrel is ambitious, but he would never deny
basic support to one he has taken as his ward."

Thinking of a father who disowned his youngest son for disobedience, Derian's expression grew unhappily thoughtful.

"What are you thinking about, Derian Carter," the king asked sharply. "Have I misjudged Norvin Norwood?"

"No, Your Majesty," Derian fumbled, then forged
ahead. "I was wondering how you could . . . I mean why you . . . why
you disowned Prince Barden."

The king looked angry for a moment, then sad. "I was
hasty, infuriated that he would act so without my express permission,
angry, too, that he did not trust that I had a place planned for him in
the governing of Hawk Haven. I was younger then and maybe I believed
myself immortal. It has been so long—ten years or more are still ten
years, even to a man of my age—that I am a stranger to that sour, proud
man. I have lost both son and daughter. That changed me. Now, I would
give anything to not have driven Barden away, but it is too late and my
heir must come from among those."

He made a sweeping gesture at the dancers twisting through the latest intricate form.

"What do you think of Lady Elise? Would she make a good queen?"

"Please, Sire," Derian begged. "I'm just a carter's son. I'm not fit to advise kings."

"That you would say that at all makes you fit. And
you are not just a carter's son. Earl Kestrel does not hire dead
weight. If he has kept you on it is because he sees good in you—good
beyond your ability to coach Firekeeper. Now, will you disobey me? I
want your opinion!"

Derian chewed his lower lip before speaking. Despite
the wine, he felt dreadfully sober, so sober that he knew he was out of
his depth.

"I know Elise mostly as a friend . . ." he began.

"Good. Friends see sides of each other that elderly
and terrifying great-uncles do not. Speak up, Derian! Or are you in
love with her and afraid to admit it?"

"No." Derian straightened. "I'm not. I was taken with
her at first—she's kind and sweet when you get to know her and she was
the first noble lady I was close to, but now that I know her better I
realize we're not suited. She's much better for me as a friend."

"So, you didn't cease to love her because you found fault in her?"

"No, sir, not at all! What I loved was the idea of a
titled lady with golden hair. When I got to know Elise I found she was
much more than that—just a person."

King Tedric nodded. "And young men don't fall in love
with people. I believe I understand. Tell me what you think of her as a
potential queen."

It hadn't escaped Derian that the king was skipping
his nieces and nephews and moving directly to their offspring. Was this
because he had rejected the others or because he was asking Derian
about those Derian was most likely to know well?

"Elise," Derian began slowly, "is a good person. She knows her way around the castle and its people already."

"Castle Flower," the king murmured.

Rightly guessing that this cryptic comment didn't need a reply, Derian continued:

"That's already an advantage over Firekeeper. A few
days ago, I'd have said that Elise's greatest weakness was a lack of
courage, but now . . ."

He trailed off, realizing he shouldn't say exactly how he had learned of Elise's deeper reserves.

"Now I know differently. She may be a bit squeamish, but she's not lacking courage."

King Tedric didn't press Derian to clarify, but after
a thoughtful pause during which he studied the young woman below as she
whirled through the steps of a particularly fast dance, her face alight
with laughter, he said:

"So, you think Elise should be queen."

Derian blurted, "I don't think she
wants
to be queen, Sire. I think she might have once, but now I'm not so certain."

"And you don't think that someone who doesn't want to be monarch should be forced to do so."

Derian fumbled to explain, "Princess Caryl didn't
want to go to Bright Bay and marry Prince Tavis and so that didn't work
out too well. I was just thinking that this might be a bit the same."

"Hmm. And how about Jet Shield? Do you think he should be king?"

"Him?" Derian couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice, no matter how he tried to school it. "He's too ambitious. He wants it
too
much."

"So I should neither choose someone who doesn't want
the task nor someone who does. That is quite a conundrum, Mister
Carter. How shall I resolve it?"

Derian could feel himself turning bright red, but he
pressed on, determined that if he was going to have to go through this
peculiar interrogation he wouldn't flub it completely.

"Your Majesty, what I'm trying to say is that the
best candidate would be someone who wants to rule but for the good of
Hawk Haven, not solely for his or her own good. Someone, like Elise,
who doesn't want to rule is going to do a bad job because either she
isn't going to pay attention to the small details or she's going to
resent them."

King Tedric snorted. "Even I—and I wanted to be king— even I grow tired of those small details."

Derian persisted. "Someone who wants to rule because he'll have titles and honors . . ."

"And power, don't forget power."

"And power. That type of person is equally a bad
choice because he's going to make decisions based on how they'll affect
his own importance. He's not going to care about how they affect the
people who live under his rule. Eventually, they'll realize this.
Common folk aren't as innocent as some of your noble folk believe."

"Yes. I know. My mother never let me forget that. I
wish I had thought to drill that into my nieces and nephews, but then I
never thought that I would be forced to pick one of them or their
offspring to follow me. So, is Jet's only flaw his ambition?"

Shrugging, feeling himself already in so far that he could not get in much farther, Derian said:

"I think if he were made king no matter whose head wore the crown his mother would wield too great an influence."

"I saw you dancing with Melina earlier. So you don't like her?"

Derian shook his head. "I don't know her well enough
to say that, sir. I do know that her children respect her with a
respect that is akin to fear."

"So you're offering me a criticism that would apply
to any of Lord Rolfston's children—and perhaps to Rolfston himself. You
narrow my choices dramatically with that small statement."

Stubbornly Derian said, "One of the first to befriend
Firekeeper was little Citrine. She made no secret that her mother
commands more than a mother's respect. I don't know the others well,
but I think the same must apply."

"Interesting thought, young Carter, and one not altogether alien to my observations."

King Tedric added nothing more and Derian waited
quietly. The orchestra and dancers were taking another intermission. As
they milled about sipping their chilled wine or
punch, their gazes—surreptitious or not—often rested on the king's dais.

All at once, Derian's self-consciousness came back to
him. When he glanced at the king, however, Tedric seemed unaware of the
scrutiny from below. Perhaps a king must learn to live with such
continual observation. If so, Derian was suddenly glad that he had
betrayed Firekeeper's weakness to the monarch. His wild wolf-woman
could never live so.

"Well, Derian Carter," King Tedric said at last. "I
had a mind to question you further. It is refreshing to be counseled by
one who speaks only of individual merits and never of who is related to
whom except as that is related to those merits."

Derian colored. "Thank you, Sire."

"Don't think for a moment that those relationships
don't matter. They do. However, it is easy to forget that this one's
daughter or that one's son is also a person possessed of personal
weaknesses and strengths. Don't you forget that when you are older."

"No, Sire, I won't."

King Tedric stretched slightly and smiled benignly at
the young man. "Now, you have given me good counsel. What do you wish
for your reward? I offer you anything within reason."

"Nothing, Sire. I am honored, really."

"Tosh, of course you are, but still I wish to give you a gift."

An idea slipped into Derian's mind, as wild and
insane as any he had ever had. Even as he tried to dismiss it, he knew
he would ask and accept the consequences.

"Then, sir, I ask for the necklace that Lady Melina Shield is wearing this very moment, the one she always wears."

The expression in King Tedric's pale eyes was shrewd,
not startled, and Derian wondered how much the old man knew, how much
he merely suspected. All the king said, however, was:

"I fear I cannot give you something that does not belong to me. If you so covet the necklace, why not have one made?
Despite the pride with which Lady Melina wears it, it is not so impossibly unique."

Derian drew in a deep breath. It had been too much to
hope that he and his friends' problem would be so easily solved, but
even as he nodded his acceptance of what the king had said Derian
wondered if Tedric had just shown him a way out of at least part of
their problem.

Tedric continued, "Since you cannot think of something yourself, let me choose. Dirkin, come here."

Sir Dirkin Eastbranch, who had been standing such
silent witness to all their conversation that Derian had never noticed
his presence, stepped forth.