Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart (5 page)

"We don't starve her," he said, "but the poor child was near starvation's edge when I found her in the wilds this past Horse Moon. She has yet to overcome her enthusiasm for a well-filled plate."

Lady Ceece replied somewhat grudgingly, hearing her own rudeness in the earl's courtesy, "Well, she certainly doesn't look overfed."

Sir Jared Surcliffe, Earl Kestrel's cousin, commented, "We only arrived today after several days' hard travel from Hope. I'm famished and the food is excellent. Cousin, would you cut me another slice from that roast?"

Even as the wolf-woman admired how the two men had clipped the barbs from Lady Ceece's words, Firekeeper considered the tensions evident in the large banquet hall. She was no stranger to social tension, having been brought into Hawk Haven as Earl Kestrel's piece in a play for the throne of that kingdom. The tension she sensed here was different. She slowed her attack on her plate of pork as she tried to sort out the reason for that difference.

Certainly, the strife over the throne of Hawk Haven had been bitter enough. There had been tears and screaming, bartering of lives for some imagined advantage, even hints that murder could be done if the prize was certain enough. Yet beneath it all there had been a sense that those who fought were all bound by a common interest.

It had been, Firekeeper thought, excited by the comparison, like wolves fighting over a kill. There had been no question who owned the kill. It belonged to the pack—or in this case, the kingdom. The question was who would get the best portions.

When the struggle had been resolved, almost everyone had settled back into their old patterns. A few bore wounds—Elise's disillusionment over Jet Shield was one such—but they were as no more than the routine slashes and cuts one wolf might give another. If trouble arose, the pack would rejoin, rivalry forgotten until the new crisis was past.

Here, though, the gathered nobility of Bright Bay and Hawk Haven were not yet a pack except by the commands of their kings. True, the nobles of Bright Bay had sworn oaths to uphold the new-made king, Allister of the Pledge, and his son and heir apparent, Shad Oyster. Part of that swearing was the understanding that Shad would someday reign not only in Bright Bay but in Hawk Haven side by side with his betrothed, Crown Princess Sapphire.

In Hawk Haven the change had been less apparent. King Tedric still ruled, though his white hair and wrinkled features made clear that he could not last many years longer. His heir apparent had been drawn from approved ranks and those who had been passed by in her choosing—most notably Elise and Firekeeper herself—were pleased with the selection.

However, though Hawk Haven's nobility had been willing to accept King Tedric's selection of his heir, many had been less than pleased at the truce he had made with his nephew Allister. Until just that past summer Bright Bay and Hawk Haven had been sworn enemies. Now they were allies, their union into one nation reigned over by Sapphire and Shad a thing many of those gathered there could anticipate living to see.

And not all of them
, Firekeeper thought,
are pleased at the thought of that seeing. Truly, this is not a pack gathered here to share a kill. It is a grouping of many packs, chancing on the same good hunting grounds and trying to decide whether or not to share the herds
.

The realization did nothing to quiet Firekeeper's soul, and she wondered whether Earl Kestrel was very brave, or only very foolish, to sit there and laugh.

T
he wedding was a grand affair. As it was also in some sense the wedding of their two kingdoms—though that part of the marriage would not be consummated until both King Tedric and King Allister were become ancestors—made it an even more important event. For any of the heads of Bright Bay's five Great Houses to refuse to attend would be tantamount to declaring that the oaths they had sworn to King Allister were so much air.

None made that choice, though House Lobster had a new head—Duchess Faelene, the younger sister of the previous duke, Marek.

Old Marek Lobster had chosen to ally himself with Queen Valora. Indeed, he hardly had a choice, since his son, Harwill, was married to the queen and had taken the new title of King of the Isles. The uproar in House Lobster had been quite fierce, a source of gossip in both court and streets, but it had been simply a more public version of the choices being made in each of the noble families.

Yet old Duke Lobster was present after a fashion. Newly retitled Marek, Duke of Half-Moon Island, he had come as the Isles' representative to the wedding. To refuse him would have been to threaten the tense neutrality between the two realms. Duke Half-Moon's retinue was small, almost humble. He had brought no guards, no more servants than were perfectly proper for himself alone. As he was a widower, he did not even have a wife accompanying him.

In addition to his sister, several formidable women of Duke Half-Moon's generation were present. Foremost among these was Grand Duchess Seastar Seagleam, the late Gustin III's sister, and King Allister's aunt. Lesser in rank but perhaps more interesting to the gossips was Lady Brina Dolphin. Smiling with gracious vindictiveness, Lady Brina made herself highly visible at every gathering.

Gustin HI had divorced her in order to marry Lady Viona Seal, who would bear him Valora. Valora's defeat was seen by many—including those of the Seals who had allied themselves with the Isles—as House Dolphin's vindication.

Although Shad and Sapphire would celebrate their marriage a second time before the nobles of Hawk Haven, several of Hawk Haven's noble houses had chosen to send representatives to this wedding as well. The Great Houses of Goshawk and Gyrfalcon were each represented by their Heads. Such would be expected of Goshawk and Gyrfalcon, for Sapphire was a granddaughter of those houses. Duke Peregrine, Queen Elexa's brother, had planned to attend, but illness—really nothing more than advanced age—had forced him to send his heir. Wellward's example, however, shamed the remaining houses into sending at least a token representative.

Earl Kestrel was present for his house, but also at the express invitation of Princess Sapphire, who had desired that Lady Blysse serve as a wedding attendant. The Barony of Archer was represented by the entire family, again because Princess Sapphire had wished Lady Archer to be a member of her wedding party.

Still, no one really expected any of Hawk Haven's Great Houses to challenge King Tedric's choice of heir. Their protest would be against the public promise that someday the two kingdoms, rivals these hundred years and more, would be united.

"
And so
," said Firekeeper to Blind Seer as she mused over these complexities while bathing the morning of the wedding, "
they sniff each other's backsides, trying to decide whether they are to be friends
."

"
And Lady Melina's absence and that of her children
," the wolf replied, "
becomes the raw wound in this great love-fest—a wound with dirt in it, for Duke Gyrfalcon, her own elder brother, is here
."

"
Here and howling to the moon about his sorrow that his younger brother Newell turned traitor
," Firekeeper agreed.

"
A loud howl does not mean a true hunter
," Blind Seer said pedantically, "
only an open mouth
."

Firekeeper's brow furrowed. She, too, had trouble trusting the head of a family that had whelped both Newell and Melina Shield.

"Elise says that after the wedding, everything will be all right."

"
Which wedding
?" the wolf asked.

"I don't know."

The gown Firekeeper was to wear as a wedding attendant featured two parts: an underdress with a gently scooped neckline and long full sleeves, covered by a floor-length surcoat. The ensemble's essential simplicity—necessitated by the short length of time which the hastily recruited corp of seamstresses had been given to do their work—was disguised by the richness of the New Kelvinese silk from which it was made. The underdress was snowy white shot with silver, while the surcoat was an elaborately patterned crimson brocade.

The wolf-woman struggled into the underdress without much difficulty, but was glad when Derian knocked at her door as she was trying to reach the lacings at the back.

"May I?" he asked, running the cords expertly to and fro.

"If you don't," Firekeeper said practically, "I don't know who will."

"You're welcome, too," Derian said, thumping her gently on top of the head with his knuckles. "Today of all days, mind your manners."

Firekeeper sighed. "Must I wear these?"

She held up two dainty slippers, sewn from the finest dyed leather and decorated with scarlet tassels.

"You must," Derian replied without hesitation.

"And the hat?" Firekeeper said hopelessly, pulling on over her tousled hair a sweet little conical headdress bordered with a modest padded circlet.

Derian looked up from tying a bow at the top of her lacing and laughed heartily.

"Yes," he said when he had his breath, "you must wear the hat, but not like that. You look ridiculous."

"I feel," Firekeeper retorted, a trace sulkily, "ridiculous."

"Here," Derian said. "I'll show you how to do it right. Thank the Horse that I have a sister!"

He plucked off the offending headgear and took a brush to Firekeeper's hair. The thick, brown mass had grown a great deal since the early spring when she had stopped chopping it short with a minting knife, long enough to be pulled back into a short queue—if she pinned back the stray ends that tended to tumble into her face.

"Today," Derian said, "a queue won't do. Not only is that a man's style, but you can't have a little bush sticking out from under the hat. We'll fan your curls out so…" He arranged her hair to his satisfaction, "then put the hat on, tilted slightly to the back so the circlet frames your face and the cap covers the dome of your head. There! Now that's pretty."

He showed Firekeeper her reflection in the mirror. She studied herself for a moment, then nodded reluctantly.

"That
does
look better," she admitted. "But why wear a hat? We'll be inside the castle. It won't rain."

"Because," Derian said cheerfully, "the crown princess wants you to wear it, the earl wants you to wear it, and you don't want to cause trouble over such a little thing—not since you agreed to be an attendant."

"I didn't know I'd need to wear a hat and
shoes
." The latter were a particular sore point and she glowered at the inoffensive slippers.

"You'll be happy enough for boots when winter comes," Derian predicted. "Consider this a rehearsal."

"Never needed boots before," the wolf-woman growled.

"Correction," Derian said. "You never had them. I assure you, you'll find them a great improvement over wrapping rabbit skins around your feet."

From where he had been dozing in the sunlight, Blind Seer yawned and chuckled.

"
Derian is right
," he said. "
You'll take boots when winter comes. Consider this dressing fancy protection against a different kind of cold
."

"Now look at yourself," Derian said, turning her before a full-length panel of polished silver, "and tell me you don't look quite the lovely lady."

Firekeeper again studied her image in the mirror. She still had difficulty with the idea that reflected images bore any relation to reality. Still, she had to admit that the person in the mirror looked rather like the other ladies she had seen bustling about the castle. She nodded grudging acceptance and let Derian fasten a pearl and ruby choker about her throat.

"Thank you," she said.

"And now for the crowning glory," Derian said with a chuckle. He extended her Fang, the hunting knife that had once belonged to Prince Barden. "I'm told you have permission to wear this strapped around your waist beneath, the surcoat."

"That's right," Firekeeper replied smugly. "My Fang does not leave me. Princess Sapphire agreed and even had a new belt made for it."

"Wise," Derian said, casting a critical glance at the weather-stained leather of Firekeeper's more usual gear. "Really we're going to have to teach you how to maintain leather."

Once the new belt was strapped loosely about Firekeeper's hips, the knife was not very visible. The part that was most so—the hilt with a large cabochon-cut garnet in the pommel—might be mistaken for a peculiar piece of jewelry.

Now that her own costume was complete, Firekeeper examined her friend's attire. Derian was dressed in knee breeches, waistcoat, and frock coat, all of a deep forest green. The color set off his red hair nicely. His stockings and shirt were off-white, and the silver buckles on his brown shoes shone with polish.

"You look a gentleman," she said approvingly.

"My mother helped me select this outfit along with several others when I went home after the war," Derian said. "She has a good eye for expensive clothing."

"
And ambitions for her pup
," Blind Seer added. The wolf was in a rather sour mood because, despite Firekeeper's repeated requests and Princess Sapphire's approval, he had been barred from the wedding.

Firekeeper knelt next to him and rubbed his head, ignoring the coating of fine silvery-grey hairs this left on the red brocade of her surcoat.

Derian forbore from commenting on this sartorial offense, only sighed.

A rap at the door summoned them. Elise, attended by Ninette, waited in the corridor. She was dressed identically to Firekeeper. The combination of strong red and silvery white went well with her fair complexion and made her golden hair seem to glow. Ninette was clad in a neat gown of salmon pink. Ironically, it was more elaborately embroidered than the one worn by her mistress, since it had come from her existing wardrobe, rather than having been hastily pieced together for the occasion.

Firekeeper gave Blind Seer a parting hug and hurried to join Elise.

"You look lovely," Elise said, reaching out to brush the worst of the wolf hair from Firekeeper's surcoat. "Now, remember, take small steps."