Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart (52 page)

She couldn't read words painted on the sign over the door, but the picture—glimpsed whenever the wind swung the sign back into a somewhat vertical position—seemed to be of a mouse sitting on its haunches, an extraordinarily long tail twisting out behind it.

The warm orange glow through the opaque glass of a front window immediately conjured up images of firelight and comfort. As they stopped and Derian was stiffly swinging down from Roanne's saddle, the orange light was blocked by a form about the size of a human head. Moments later, the big front door was flung open.

A cloaked and hooded figure smelling of beef and roses burst forth.

"Welcome to the Long Trail Winding," it said in a contralto bellow that carried easily over the wind. "Come in out of the cold."

"The horses and mules…" Derian began.

"Send 'em round the side," the innkeeper interrupted, "to the left. I've already rung so the gate will be open. We've stabling enough. No one's out on a night like this and our last big group left two days ago."

Before the innkeeper had finished her speech, Firekeeper had already stepped onto the porch. The wolf-woman's immediate impulse was to rush to the comfort indoors, but she knew Derian would not come inside until the horses and mules were settled.

Elise would be useless in this matter. Doc and Wendee might be somewhat better, but Firekeeper had reached an accommodation with these particular animals. She moved over to where Wendee was mounted on Patience and helped her down. Wendee gave her a grateful smile.

"Thanks," Wendee said. "I'm a bit stiff."

Firekeeper, who had run most of the way rather than get chilled, nodded. She knew she'd be stiff, too, if she'd sat on a plodding horse in the cold and wind.

"Get into warm," she said. "I help Derian."

Then she turned to Patience.

Move
! she growled, slapping the horse on the rump.

The gelding was only too glad to move, even without its sometime rider's encouragement. Patience wasn't an equine genius, but it had scented the stables. If the mules had been inclined to argue—and Firekeeper wasn't certain that they actually were—Firekeeper's growl got them hurrying along at a brisk pace. A few even trotted.

At the stable they were met by two young men who stated that "Ma would have their heads for the soup pot" if they let guests of the inn remain uncomfortable any longer than absolutely necessary.

Derian took one look at the neat stable, grinned his thanks, and started unstrapping their baggage. Firekeeper helped him carry the few necessary bags inside.

"We can trust those fellows with the rest of the load," Derian said to her once they were outside again—the cold and damp seeming all the worse for the temporary respite in the stable. "I think the innkeeper's some sort of cousin of my mother's. My parents have an agreement with them, and I'll just make certain that the innkeeper knows who I am."

Whether whatever Derian said to the innkeeper was necessary, Firekeeper didn't know. The innkeeper—a distinctly fat woman with mouse-grey hair and a cheerful laugh—seemed delighted to have more guests. She sent hot wine to their rooms, plied them with bread and soft cheese as soon as they came down to the common room, and set before them not only the beef stew Firekeeper had scented, but a side of roast venison as well.

Some hours later when they were warm, dry, and well fed, sleet no longer rattled against the windowpanes. By the time Firekeeper had retired to the room she was to share with Elise and Wendee Jay, the stars were bright against a sky that looked like freshly brushed black velvet.

"No, you don't," Elise said, looking over from where she stood bent over, brushing her hair, the steadily repeated strokes making it look like a wheat field rippling in the wind.

"No, I don't what?" Firekeeper asked, astonished at the rebuke.

"No, you don't go running around outside of town howling for Blind Seer," Elise said. Her lips formed numbers as she counted the brush strokes.

Firekeeper, who had been thinking of doing precisely that, was offended.

"Why should I no?" she asked indignantly. "I no get lost."

"
Not
and
won't"
Elise corrected. "Because it is dark and cold out there, because you've been chilled to the bone and you need to rest before tomorrow."

"Think of this," Wendee added soothingly from where she was hanging their damp clothes on a line the accommodating innkeeper had strung before the fire. Her hair was already tightly plaited, her flannel gown tied close to her throat. "The wolf has probably got himself nice and warm. He doesn't need you to wake him up."

Wendee's argument convinced Firekeeper to stay in. Still, as she drifted off to sleep on the pallet before the fire, looking up at the shadows the dangling laundry cast in the flickering light, she wondered how she could feel so alone though crowded into a room with two other women.

T
he next morning they passed through customs without difficulty. Doc had gone ahead and presented the official with a letter from Earl Kestrel while Derian supervised the readying of the horses and mules. The earl's letter, combined with the fact that nothing in their baggage was worth notice, sped them along without even the payment of a bribe, allowing them to commandeer nearly all of the first ferry.

Firekeeper was amused to note that their shadow had also found a place on the same ferry. He stood to one side, leaning over the railing as if fascinated by the patterns the sunlight made on the water. The hood of his traveling cloak was pulled up around his head—a bit unusual since the weather had turned fair as if apologizing for its behavior the night before—but Firekeeper didn't think her companions noticed him. They were all occupied with keeping the horses and mules calm during the crossing.

While visiting Silver Whale Cove, Firekeeper had gone out once on a rowboat, but this river crossing was quite a different matter. The ferry jolted and bounced on the rough water, making her stomach uneasy and causing her to wish that she'd elected to cross via the dam with Blind Seer.

The town on the other side of the White Water was named, in ornate New Kelvinese phrasing, the Gateway to Enchantment—typically shortened to Gateway. At the customs house, the official glanced through their gear, accepted the border tax Derian had ready, and otherwise ignored them.

In early winter, many visitors crossed into Gateway from Hawk Haven, each hoping to buy something unique, valuable, and possibly antique. Their party looked little different.

Wendee Jay had frequently visited Gateway during her days as a traveling actress and she became their guide.

"You'll find that most of the people here in Gateway will speak some of our language," she said. "In fact, most of them will speak more than they'll admit. It's to their benefit to pretend ignorance—especially when the bartering gets stiff."

As they rode from the riverside toward the town square, Firekeeper looked around the town with disinterest. The square stone buildings seemed little different than, those on the other side of the river. The streets were marginally cleaner perhaps, but that was all. Elise apparently saw things differently.

"Look at the stone carvings!" she marveled aloud, reining in Cream Delight so she could study the archway that spanned the road into the square. "The work that went into this one dragon-thing alone must have taken months."

Firekeeper looked where Elise pointed. On the polished side of the arch a twisting figure had been incised into the stone. Having never seen a dragon, she had to take Elise's word for what it represented, but to her eyes it looked like nothing so much as a nest of hibernating snakes with only one head—and that head merged the characteristics of wolf, horse, and snake in what the feral woman privately thought was an improbable fashion.

"We not here to look at rocks," Firekeeper said impatiently. "Day is clear but sun not shine forever. We should move."

She knew she was being rude, but a sense of urgency was rising within her. Stormy weather the past two days- had made a report from the wingéd folk impossible. Elation had gone out with the dawn to see if she could intercept a messenger.

Despite lacking a precise destination, Firekeeper felt they should press into the interior of New Kelvin. Surely such valuable things as they sought would not be kept near the border.

Wendee Jay shook her head at Firekeeper's words, her lips pursed in an expression Firekeeper recognized from when Merri became unruly.

"Before we go anywhere," Wendee said sternly, "I want to shop for a few things that may be essential when we reach the interior."

"What?" Firekeeper asked, torn between curiosity and annoyance.

Wendee looked around, saw that no one was in earshot—indeed, the New Kelvinese seemed to give them a wide berth—and continued:

"Here in Gateway our attire and lack of cosmetics will not cause comment, but further in we will stand out."

"Won't we in any case?" Doc asked.

"As a group," Wendee agreed, "but an individual scouting—or spying—may escape casual notice with the right disguise."

"Good point," Doc admitted.

Firekeeper privately agreed, but she refrained from saying so. She trusted herself to the cover of shadows, but none of the rest shared her skill.

Fleetingly she thought of their own personal shadow. He had gone off in another direction as soon as the ferry docked, but she didn't doubt he would know when they left Gateway. Five horses and two pack mules were hard to conceal. Indeed, they were less than welcome in the town center, so Derian had taken them to a stable near the north of town where they could be held until needed.

Elise and Wendee moved purposefully toward a shop whose garishly painted sign apparently advertised cosmetics. Doc walked a few steps behind them, looking for an apothecary. Firekeeper trailed somewhat sullenly in the rear.

She didn't like being wrong, nor being out of her element. Her sojourn west of the Iron Mountains had reawakened a wildness she hadn't known had been quieted by the moon-spans she had spent among humans until it arose again. More than ever she resented being treated like a pup—and more than ever she was forced to admit that among humans, as among wolves, she was still little more.

At least among the wolves she had been used to that ranking. It was harder to accept when among humans. They were weaker than her, less swift and agile, absolute slugs when it came to foraging for themselves. To the speech of most of the world's creatures they were deaf and weren't even aware of their disability. Yet—and this Firekeeper hated admitting—even Elise was better prepared to function in the environment they now entered.

Fleetingly, the feral woman considered leaving Gateway and seeking out Blind Seer. The wolf would be delighted to see her, would doubtless have stories about his adventures since splitting from the main group the night before. Firekeeper was no less able than their shadow to tell when the rest left town.

She was one foot on that trail when she seemed to hear again the debating voices of the Royal Beasts as they argued their need. They had chosen her because she was human—not wolf—because she could do things not even the clever pawed raccoons could. If she turned away now, wasn't she betraying their trust?

Firekeeper shook herself and trotted to catch up with the others. Doc had excused himself to visit an apothecary shop. Elise and Wendee were standing outside the window of the cosmetician's.

"No," Wendee was saying to Elise, "no one will think it the least bit odd if we purchase a broad selection of colors. More than one lady of Hawk Haven wears New Kelvinese cosmetics—though the custom is wider spread among the commoners than among the nobility. Another of Queen Zorana's influences I suspect."

Elise smiled. "Perhaps so. Then let's go in. I can hardly wait!"

Firekeeper entered with them. The interior of the shop was a riot of color. Patterned silks hung on the walls. In front of these were open-backed shelves holding bottles and flat boxes, some spread wide to show the pats of color within. Polished mirrors caught the varied hues and sent them back again, tinted with silver. The floor was thickly carpeted, swallowing their footsteps so that all at once their breathing sounded loud.

Once over the threshold, it took all of Firekeeper's newly cultivated resolve not to bolt out again. The place reeked—and not with the honest odors of manure, sweat, and blood that she had learned humans found distasteful, but with heavy floral scents, melted wax, the sharp tang of alcohol, and a hundred other things she could not separate from the general mélange.

Elise and Wendee sniffed appreciatively.

"It's like being inside a sachet," Elise said with a hushed laugh, "or maybe inside a whole drawer of them!"

Wendee was about to reply when a voice echoed from one corner.

"May I assist the foreign visitors?"

All three women jumped slightly as a portion of the intricately decorated wall separated itself from the rest, resolving into a short, round man. He wore a floor-length robe cut from the same silk that hung on the walls, and his face was painted in the same patterns. Even his hair was concealed under a close-fitting cap of the same material.

The effect was eerie and startling and Firekeeper—accustomed to the ways animals camouflage themselves—had no doubt that it was meant to be.

"Like magic!" gasped Wendee in tones that were convincingly astonished—unless, like Firekeeper, you had heard her use them whenever she played peekaboo with little Merri.

"Mere illusion," said the shopkeeper, sweeping them a bow. "How may I assist you?"

While Wendee and Elise tested the various preparations—smearing a bit on the back of their hands, testing them for water resistance, using a bit of unguent to remove each color in preparation for the next, Firekeeper drifted about the shop, examining everything, touching tentatively.

It
was
fascinating, she had to admit, though she wondered why the New Kelvinese needed to hide their true features in this way.

Were they trying to scare away predators after the fashion of those moths whose wings were imprinted with what seemed to be wide, staring eyes? Were they trying to look like something else, as a newborn fawn resembled nothing so much as a bit of sun-dappled duff?