Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart

by Jane Lindskold

  Admitting this to herself, for the first time she wondered what her parents would say if a penniless man of no title came courting her. Discouragement flooded her breast as she realized that no matter her own wishes in the matter her father, the baron, would probably show Sir Jared the door.

  The next day, Firekeeper and Blind Seer were granted permission to go for a long run through the scrub forest bordering one edge of Silver Whale Cove—the actual cove rather than the city that bore the same name.

  The water table here was quite high, enough so that even in the driest weather the ground a few feet under the surface was damp and water tended to collect in shallow depressions.

  However, slightly inland there was a point of higher ground, uncontaminated by the brackish water of the bay. Here the castle had been built, possibly shored up by some of the same Old Country sorcery that had once lit its interior. In the vicinity of the castle and the fine natural harbor, a city had grown up, but there was still enough open land that no effort had been made to drain the nearby scrub forest. Strong winds off the waters kept disease bearing insects to a minimum and the tides washed the pools and puddles so. that only under the worst conditions did the damp area bear fever.

  By tradition, the forest belonged to the castle and only those with permission hunted for waterfowl and small game along its banks or under its trees. True, children did sneak away to play there, drawn into its shadow-haunted reaches and mysterious pools as children have always been drawn by places unused by their elders—as places that they can claim as their own.

  Firekeeper found the scrub forest quite fascinating. She had never been near a land ruled by the tides, and the marks they left even away from the shore were intriguing. She lost one of the boots Derian had insisted she wear when she stepped in a sinkhole, and gleefully threw the other away. True, the ground was cold, but she was accustomed to being physically uncomfortable in some fashion. Only recently had she been otherwise more often than not.

  Blind Seer also enjoyed the chance to get out of the castle grounds and stretch. He ran circles around his two-legged companion, darting off after interesting scents, starting rabbits and chasing them for the fun of watching their panicked flight. He didn't kill any, however, for he'd been kept well fed—even overfed—by a castle staff terrified of the consequences if the giant wolf should feel even the least bit hungry.

  Together they explored, Firekeeper pausing to admire the iridescent interiors of shells vacated by the mussels that clung to the rocks along the shore, Blind Seer rolling in a particularly odoriferous fish so long dead that its species could only be guessed at. They were crouched on the edge of a tide pool—Firekeeper poking at something that snapped at them with claws from behind a cluster of small rocks, Blind Seer barking in excitement—when a shrill screech interrupted their play.

  An enormous peregrine falcon—as large as an eagle and thus as oversized for its species as Blind Seer was for his—stooped from above and came plummeting down from the clear autumn skies. Inches above the waters, it caught itself, banked its wings, and lifted. Flapping strongly but effortlessly, the peregrine rose, causing ripples like the kisses of. a flirtatious wind to distort the surface of the tide pool. Then it came to a perch on the outthrust branch of an oak that had been half-killed by the proximity of brackish waters.

  Folding its wings neatly, the peregrine commented sardonically, "Well, the two of you haven't changed much. Still mad. Well, all wolves are mad and humans who think themselves wolves are probably twice mad."

  She was a magnificent falcon, even as a representative of a species that many humans—as Firekeeper had learned—regarded as the most handsome of all the falcons. Her compact body was feathered a deep blue-grey, while her head was capped in plumage the color of slate. White feathers along her throat and underbody provided contrast, while darker bars across the white added dimension. Her eyes were dark brown, rimmed with gold.

  "Elation!" Firekeeper cried, the greeting echoing across the waters like a wolf's howl so that those who heard it shivered at hearing such a sound at midday. "Elation, you have returned!"

  Pleased, the peregrine ruffled her feathers and preened.

  "Well, you didn't think I'd gone forever, did you?"

  "We didn't know what to think," Firekeeper admitted. "Derian said that one day you simply flew away. I knew," she said in the tones of one who is verging onto unfamiliar grounds,

  "that many of the wingéd folk migrated. I thought perhaps that impulse had seized you."

  Elation chuffed. "We Royal Falcons are not as bound by such things as our cousins are. True, we often have the sense to take passage to better climates rather than winter where food will be scarce and conditions hardly pleasant, but we can overcome the impulse."

  "Oh."

  "So where were you?" asked Blind Seer. "You said nothing to us of leaving."

  "I am not," the falcon snapped, "required to report to you."

  Blind Seer lolled out his tongue in a wolfish laugh. "Never said that you were. You're touchy today. Gone short of food?"

  "I wouldn't say no to a rabbit or so," the falcon admitted. "Harvested fields offer less variety in hunting than I could wish."

  "Mice," the wolf sniffed in understanding. "If my mere presence hasn't scared all the game to earth, there are plenty of fat rabbits in the woods."

  "I'd prefer duck," Elation said, "and the ones my coming startled should have settled to the water again by now. Bide a moment."

  Firekeeper found a sunny patch and made herself comfortable against Blind Seer's flank. In the near distance there was the sound of squawking ducks, the dull thunder of many pairs of wings rapidly taking flight. Then the peregrine returned, a fat green-headed male mallard held strongly in her talons.

  "They're complacent here," she said, ripping into it with a shower of feathers and gutting the body with a single skilled tear. "A pity that I won't have a chance to teach them due prudence."

  "You're leaving again soon?" Firekeeper asked.

  Elation lifted a bloody head from her meal. "We all are. I've come to take you home."

  "Home?" Firekeeper asked, feeling an odd mixture of excitement and dismay. "Is all well with our pack? What are you talking about?"

  "And since when," Blind Seer asked with acuity, "have the wingéd folk run errands for the wolves?"

  Elation gulped down the duck's liver in a single swallow. "I'll tell while I feed because I see you're confused. I'm not running errands for the wolves, nor is there anything wrong with your pack. By home I meant to the lands west of the Iron Mountains, the lands where humans rarely go."

  "Eat first," Firekeeper said with a wolf's courtesy, because no wolf ever waits a meal. "A tale that has waited this long can wait until you have fed."

  Still, though the peregrine reduced the duck to feathers and bones—and not overmuch of the latter—in very little time, the wolf-woman found the wait for her tale very long indeed.

  "Soon after the war ended," Elation began, "I went with Derian back to Eagle's Nest. His family was very impressed with me, almost as much as they were with the counselor's ring he had received from King Tedric. Although I think Derian would have enjoyed having more time at home, soon he had to travel to Bright Bay for the wedding. I went with him, the finest member of the noble entourage that included Earl Kestrel and Earle Kite."

  "We know all of this," Firekeeper interrupted, impatient with the falcon's self-aggrandizement. "Why did you go west?"

  Elation ruffled her feathers, but otherwise did not acknowledge the interruption.

  "We were within a day's ride of the castle at Silver Whale Cove when, to my great surprise, I was hailed by one who spoke my language. I had been so long gone from civilized lands that I had practically forgotten that any but you and Blind Seer could speak to me."

  "Birdbrain," muttered the wolf, and maybe the falcon didn't hear. Certainly she didn't comment.

  "The speaker was a kestrel of the Royal kind. Had he seen him, Norvin Norwood
would surely have done anything to add him to his aeries."

  Firekeeper growled softly, but Elation would not be hurried.

  "The kestrel—one Bee Biter—told me that rumor had come to the Royal Beasts of a great battle between hosts of humans. He asked me if I knew of any such battle. I said that I did, that I had witnessed it, and that I knew the reasons for its being joined at that place and at that time.

  "Then Bee Biter charged me—using secret words known only to the wingéd folk—to come to make my report. I could no more have disobeyed and maintained my stature among my people than I could have eaten grain. Without any delay, I flew west, letting Derian see me depart. I was sorry to cause him worry, but I could not go against the charge laid upon me by the kestrel."

  "Why," Firekeeper asked, "didn't you stop in Hope and tell me where you were going?"

  "I accompanied you east," the peregrine replied haughtily, "as an agent of my people. I owed you no report.

  "Also," Elation added after a moment, perhaps thinking she had sounded unduly harsh, "the kestrel set us a path due west and I did not wish to anger him by diverting north on the chance that I might find you—after all, you might have already have left Hope for Silver Whale Cove."

  "True," Firekeeper admitted.

  "We crossed the Iron Mountains with a speed and directness which I must admit I found welcome 'after months shackled to human pace. Once across, we went to a place I don't believe you have ever seen—the Brooding Cliffs, where many generations of falcons have fostered their young.

  "Once there, I found that the Mothers of many aeries had gathered. In addition to the raptors, there were speakers for some of our corvid kin—the ravens and crows. There was even an owl or two. However, I soon realized that something greater than my coming must have caused this gathering."

  Something in the peregrine's posture revealed the falcon's wounded vanity. Firekeeper smothered a chuckle, eager to reach the part of the story that would pertain to Blind Seer and herself.

  "I told my story," Elation continued, "and found that parts of it had been known before me. Ravens and crows have ever been drawn to battlefields and the Iron Mountains are not a barrier to the wingéd folk as they are to those who are flightless. However…"

  Here Elation straightened, pride recovered. "The ravens and crows had not learned all of the story, nor did any know in full the intricacies of the political maneuvering that had led to King Allister's War and the eventual truce between Hawk Haven and Bright Bay.

  "When I had concluded my tale, the Mothers went into conference. I believe they even sent messengers to the flightless. After much discussion and much flying to and fro, I was commanded to fly east once again, to seek you out, and to order you to come before the Royal Beasts."

  Firekeeper waited for further explanation, but it seemed that none was forthcoming. Finally she asked, "But why? Surely you saw more than I did. Indeed, at first I needed you to explain to me the ways of monarchs and their vassals. Why am I needed?"

  Elation looked uncomfortable. "I was told to tell you no more than I have, but out of respect for the friendship that is between us I will say a bit more. King Allister's War troubled the Mothers more than I should have thought possible. Indeed, I thought that the more impetuous among them would have flown to speak with you themselves. Some were ready to take wing when others pointed out that if humans saw so many of us, questions would be raised—questions we are not quite ready to answer."

  "Questions?" asked Firekeeper.

  Blind Seer raised his head from his paws. "Dearest, don't you recall the clamor that Elation and I raised when we accompanied you east? Should a flight of the rulers of the air come to visit you, surely other questions would be raised. Didn't you listen when Elation said that Earl Kestrel would have loved to take captive such a fine kestrel as Bee Biter? Such greed would be the least of the emotions that would be aroused."

  Elation added, "Our tales tell how, in the years before humans came from across the seas, the Royal Beasts lived in the lands east of the Iron Mountains. Indeed, each year the Mothers warn the young hawks preparing to make their first passage about the dangers of encountering humankind.

  "I myself," and here the peregrine hunched her head between her shoulders, "was once drawn out of the air and kept by a small holder in the west of Hawk Haven for an entire season before I made my escape. However, the land-bound rarely cross the mountains and, as human memory is short and history rapidly degenerates into fantasy, we have become as legend."

  "But if the great birds were to come east in a group," Firekeeper replied, understanding, "then many would begin to wonder if there was truth to the fireside tales the old folks still tell."

  "You understand." Elation nodded, a jerky motion that incorporated her entire body. "And now you know why you must come west if the Mothers are to question you."

  "I still don't understand why they want to speak to me!" Firekeeper protested.

  "Can you make the journey without knowing?" Elation asked. "If you would not do it out of friendship for me, then would you do it for those who fed you during the long years of your childhood?"

  Firekeeper nodded. "I can and will, though I will still expect some explanation. I suppose these Mothers of yours want me to come at once."

  "They do," Elation said, "but out of consideration for your limitations as a traveler, they have agreed to meet you on the most eastern verge of the mountains, in a place where humans rarely ever go—indeed where humans are certain not to go now that winter cold is stealing down the slopes."

  "Where is this place?" Firekeeper asked.

  "Almost due west of here," Elation answered, "as the falcon flies. Do you recall the rough, broken land that bordered the field upon which Allister's War was fought?"

  "I do."

  "Humans call those the Barren Lands, and they are well named. Nothing much grows there and few creatures live there if they have another choice. The ground becomes rougher the higher one climbs, but at the top there is an enormous lake—humans call it the Rimed Lake or Lake Rime, for the waters are often frosted, even in high summer. Among our people there is a tale that the lake is the child of a mountain that once breathed fire. This lake is the source of two rivers—the Barren, which divides Hawk Haven from Bright Bay…"

  "I know that river," Firekeeper interrupted.

  "And the Fox River, which is the border between Stonehold and Bright Bay. The Mothers will meet us on the western shores of that lake and with them will be some of the land-bound. I believe your own Ones will be among them."

  "That alone," Firekeeper said, suddenly homesick, "is reason enough to make the journey. Give me time to make excuses to the humans. I cannot simply disappear as you did. Some might come looking for me and if they did, there might be seen what should not be seen."

  Blind Seer wuffed his agreement. "Don't forget, Firekeeper, that you must make excuses to Princess Sapphire. She had wanted you to stand with her at both of her weddings. Even if we run hotfoot each night I doubt that we could return to Eagle's Nest in time for that occasion."

  "True." Firekeeper bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "Still, I shall find some way to sweeten her. Elation, will you come to the castle with us?"

  "I will come," the peregrine said, "though not with you. I should prefer to excite as little comment as possible. Tell me rather how to recognize your window or Derian's and I will go there."

  Firekeeper did so, though she found such descriptions difficult. She had never thought about seeing the castle from the outside as the falcon would—nor had she considered the building in any detail. In the end, the time she and Blind Seer had spent on the parapets came to her aid and she satisfied the falcon's needs.

  When this was resolved, they parted, Elation to hunt, Firekeeper and Blind Seer to return to the castle.

  "In any case," Firekeeper said as she rose and began trotting across the damp earth, "we shall have begun to make the humans nervous by our absence. Ah! It will be good to be out of th
eir care and free once again. I can hardly wait to run by night and sleep by day, to eat my food without spices and drink only clean water."

  "And at night," the wolf added dryly, "the ground will be damp or frosted. Your feet will grow cold and you'll tuck them under my belly fur for warmth. The water may not always be clean and so you will go thirsty. If we stay on the roads, we may be seen and hunted. If we do not, we may run afoul of farmers and herders."

  "Pessimist," she said, kicking him lightly in the ribs.

  "Realist," the wolf protested. "Given what I recall of the Barren Lands, even at their lowest reaches, I really think you will miss those boots."

  Firekeeper scoffed and he laughed. Jogging side by side, they ran through the marshy scrub toward the castle, where candlelight was setting fireflies behind the windows.

  Chapter VII

  Derian was packing in anticipation of Earl Kestrel's departure for Hawk Haven the next day.

  Though his hands moved efficiently, Derian's thoughts were far away from his present task, wondering which of several choices for future employment he should make. He was still amazed by how his market value had risen among people who wouldn't even have looked him in the face a few months before. Then a shrill screech at his window jolted him into the present.

  Revelation Point Castle was equipped with glass windows—many of these relics of the days when it had belonged to some noble of the colony of Gildcrest—but no pane of glass, no matter how thick or how well set, could keep out the cry of a very large peregrine falcon, not when she was determined to be heard.

  Derian leapt to his feet and flung open the window, unmindful of the faint, chill drizzle that had just begun to fall. The peregrine in all her glory swept in and took a perch on the back of a chair near the fire. It was a heavy chair, carved of solid maple and upholstered with heavy brocade fabric stuffed with horsehair, but even so she nearly toppled it. What her talons might have done to the finish could be left to the imagination, for—some might have thought by design—she had chosen the chair over which Derian had hung his outdoor coat when he had come in hours before.