Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart

by Jane Lindskold

  "Go straight," Peace replied. "We continue north almost all the way."

  A grunt was his only reply; then there was the faint sound of soft-soled boots on stone and the occasional click that he imagined might be the tapping of the wolf's toenail against the floor.

  In reality, he might be imagining it or transferring sounds from behind to in front The acoustics here were tricky. He'd heard that the Sodality of Songweavers sent their apprentices into the tunnels alone and after dark as part of their test to be accepted as thaumaturges. If they could navigate by sound alone, they were promoted. If not, they could remain in the choir, but were never promoted.

  It might be true. Some of the finest musicians in the choir never wore the thaumaturge's mark. On the other hand, it might just be one of those stories that all the sodalities spread around lest their associates think them too soft, too undemanding.

  Occasionally, their party passed under another trapdoor. Each time, Firekeeper would pause beneath it, unspeaking, waiting to be told if this was the one. She did the same at each crossroad. Eventually, her silence got on Peace's nerves.

  She's watching me, he thought. I'd forgotten what it is like to be watched. I wonder if she is doing it deliberately.

  Something of her grin, just glimpsed in the torchlight as she once again turned away and began padding down the tunnel, made him think this was so.

  Eventually, they came to a cluster of tunnels radiating from a central point. In the flickering light of their gathered torches, several trapdoors could just be glimpsed.

  "We're under the Earth Spires now," Peace said. "Although I do not expect to meet with anyone, progress now in complete silence. I am not the only one who uses these ways."

  The air stunk now with a greater concentration of fecal matter. It bore a hint of another scent, too, sulphur blended with a hint of molten copper and a dry musk unlike anything else known.

  The sewer workers called it the breath of the dragon. The Sodality of Lapidaries said it was simply a concentration of the same gases that warmed the hot springs and caused mud to boil in certain pools. Certainly, the area surrounding the Earth Spires was rather more active than the rest of the city. This was either because the Star Wizard really imprisoned a dragon here or because the Founders had liked hot water nearby for their baths and experiments.

  Either way, Peace was accustomed to the smell. His companions were not. He had to hush them again when they made disparaging comments about the rotten-egg reek. Whispers sometimes carried farther in these tunnels than did louder sounds. Why they did so was a mystery, but mystery or not, it was still truth.

  Firekeeper was now staying closer to him. At first Peace thought she was afraid; then he realized that she was simply closing on the circle of light, getting her eyes accustomed to it so that if they emerged into a lit place she would not be disadvantaged.

  She must sense—He stopped himself in midthought. Sense! By the skull of the first Healed One—realize, not sense. I am falling under some superstitious reverence for the creature. True, she speaks to animals. True, she is more like something from one of the tales of the Founders' time than I had ever seen before, but there is no magic to her. She is simply strange. She is intelligent enough to realize that we must reach our way up fairly soon, that's all.

  Even so, Peace realized he was unnerved. Firekeeper alone would not have done it, but Firekeeper's powers combined with what he had seen Lady Melina do, with what he had heard that Sir Jared could do… It rocked the foundations of his reality.

  All my life I have believed myself part of the sorcerers' empire. Now I must face the truth that sorcery is not in us—not at least that I have seen. The kingdom of sorcery lies just across the White Water River and the great irony is they pretend to hate magic!

  Firekeeper was waiting under another trapdoor. Peace checked the signs carved into the stone beside it. He nodded and unfastened his cloak.

  "This is the door I want," he said softly. "Let me go first. I'll see if anyone is there. Leave your cloaks behind when you come up. They wouldn't be worn in the building."

  He didn't say more, hoping they understood that even if someone was in the cellar they would not find it odd if the Dragon's Eye rose from the depths—or if they found it odd, they would not comment.

  Reaching up, Grateful Peace set his torch in the. sconce prepared for precisely this purpose. Little bits of burning ash fell on his sleeve and died in the cold of the fabric. Finding the first rungs of the ladder took him a moment, but after that he could have climbed from memory.

  He mounted silently, pushed back the trapdoor, caught the scent of a cellar room that was almost never opened.

  The key word here, of course, was "almost."

  Blind Seer insisted on being the one to follow the thaumaturge up the ladder.

  "If there is trouble," the wolf said, "I will end it in two snaps. In any case," he added practically, "who but you would be strong enough to catch me if I fell?"

  Firekeeper gave in without protest. The straight ladder had been useless for getting the wolf down, but going up the toeholds proved to be just sufficient. Of course, it didn't hurt that they had essayed similar ladders during their nightly prowls.

  She followed the wolf without a backward glance. Of course the other three would follow. What else could they do?

  Emerging into the dimly lit cellar, Firekeeper threw her head back both to sniff—though catching any scent in this odor-filled place was a challenge—and to better feel the movement of the air. Along the sides of her face and against the skin of her shorn head, she could feel a current. It was too slight to be a breeze, but enough to indicate that somewhere an aperture stood open.

  Grateful Peace had carried his torch—its flame dancing slightly in that same air current—to where a door was outlined against the darker stone.

  Blind Seer stood hardly more than a pace behind the thaumaturge, ready to attack should the man prove treacherous. Firekeeper doubted Peace knew the wolf was so close; otherwise it was unlikely that he would calmly stand there, his ear pressed to where he had opened the door just the barest slit.

  Grinning slightly, she moved to join them.

  "Anything?" she asked in a soft voice.

  To his credit, Grateful Peace did not start, nor did he show surprise when he found the great wolf right behind him. The acrid scent of suddenly released perspiration gave him away, but Firekeeper didn't blame him. As she saw it, he would be mad not to fear the wolf.

  Peace shook his head.

  By this time the other three had climbed up the ladder and closed the trapdoor behind them. By torchlight, Peace gave them all a quick inspection, straightening the fall of a robe, touching up the red on their faces. Firekeeper suffered him near, knowing that her exertions had marred her paint. She longed for the moment when she could scrub her skin clean, eliminate the greasy scent of the stuff, and return to normal.

  Not trusting that the custodial staff would have oiled the door hinges, Peace did so, using an ointment he had carried along from Wendee's supply. Then he looked sternly at Firekeeper.

  "This time," he said, "I lead the way."

  Firekeeper blinked at him, but did not argue. She hadn't planned on leading here in any case. She felt much safer knowing that Grateful Peace was aware of her Fang at his back.

  All but one torch—the one Doc carried at the very rear—was extinguished. Then, with Peace leading, they ascended the stone stairs. Blind Seer fell back to melt into the shadows behind Doc. Firekeeper missed his warmth at her side, but knew that he was safer there—and that if there was trouble nothing would keep the wolf from her.

  Although the building above rose around the base of the tower, here the stairs coiled round the outer rim of the tower's foundation. The stone treads were worn, showing a slight dip toward the center, chipping and scoring along the edges where heavy things had been dragged. They were neither steep nor shallow, holding in them the measure of lost people.

  As she ascended,
Firekeeper concentrated on not stepping on the hem of her robe while remaining alert for any danger. Her mouth was dry as it never had been when she hunted in the wilds and she recognized the dryness as the taste of fear.

  Although the wolf-woman strained every nerve, she heard nothing, sensed nothing as they mounted. At last they reached a solid door, its planks bound with iron. A whiff of colder air coming from beneath the door told her that they had reached a level above ground.

  Peace paused and looked back.

  "Ground floor," he said softly. "The conference room is one above."

  No one asked any questions. He was merely reminding them of what they had reviewed before departing Hasamemorri's house. Once again, Peace oiled the hinges, eased open the door. It swung into the stairwell, forcing Firekeeper to drop back a step or two to give it clearance.

  Almost without thinking, she switched her Fang into a throwing grip. The knife was not very accurate when thrown—the cabochon-cut garnet at the base of the pommel threw off the balance—but it would do.

  Again, there was nothing ahead of them but emptiness. Firekeeper's nerves were screaming, begging for something to attack, something to do.

  Puppy! she scolded herself scornfully. Are you truly nothing but a puppy?

  She lapsed into watchfulness as she followed Peace into the corridor. From Edlin's maps she knew that this must be part of the larger building that extended around the base of the tower. She raised her head to listen, but heard no movement from the corridors that crossed out from this one.

  At the far end of one corridor there was a glow of pale light and snatches of lazy conversation in New Kelvinese. She couldn't understand a word, but it did not seem to bode harm for them.

  Peace had told them that this ground floor was being used as sleeping space for the researchers. If so, no doubt most were resting, dreaming of future success. A few, night owls by preference or perhaps winding down after some exertions, must be chatting in a common area.

  They will never know we were here, Firekeeper thought.

  Grateful Peace led them down a corridor to the left—to the north, Firekeeper thought, remembering the map. He paused before a door, larger and heavier than the cellar doors.

  "Outside," he whispered.

  Firekeeper nodded, showing she remembered. This was the door they would have gone through had Elation not reported that Lady Melina was in the tower. It was the door they would still go through if the situation Elation had reported had changed.

  They had settled this matter while traveling through the sewers, and now she slipped outside to meet the falcon.

  As they had planned, Elation was waiting, sitting hunched on the branch of a twisted tree bare of all but a few tattered leaves clinging to its upper reaches.

  "Lady Melina?" Firekeeper asked.

  Elation fluttered her wings.

  "Still in there. She is three levels above this one. There are six with her working over something small. Bold watches and would call if she had left."

  "My thanks." Firekeeper slipped back inside, nodded once, pointed upward, and held up three fingers.

  Peace nodded, smiled a smile that was more a baring of teeth against the blackening of his face, and motioned them on. The stairwell to the upper levels curved against the outer walls of the tower. At the top was a stout door, but its locks were not meant to keep Peace out.

  As they moved into the corridor, Firekeeper could immediately tell the difference from the lower floor. Fat candles with several wicks burned in wall sconces shaped after the fashion of grasping hands. The corridor smelled of musty wool from the rug. The scent of strong tea and sweets eddied from beneath a large double door on one side of the corridor.

  "Conference room," Peace mouthed.

  As planned, he went to the door, unlocking it when he found it locked.

  That is a form of power, Firekeeper thought. Not only being able to unlock doors, but having no one question your right to do so.

  She glanced at her companions. Elise had followed her up the stair and so now stood closest. Her lips were slightly apart as if she had been panting, but that was the only sign of fear she showed.

  Wendee was more obviously afraid, her gaze darting back and forth as if she expected one of the doors to fly open and their enemies to set upon them. Still, she held her ground, her attitude not of panic, but of readiness.

  Doc had extinguished his torch before leaving the stairwell, but his right hand remained curved as if still holding its weight. He had remained near the stairwell door, holding it just the slightest bit ajar so as to hear if anything came from below.

  Blind Seer crouched near Doc's feet. His jaws were parted in a wolfish grin, his tongue lolling slightly. Any who came through that door would find a welcoming committee so terrifying that he might not even find breath to scream.

  Glancing at Elise, Firekeeper touched the lobe of her ear and pointed toward the door. Elise looked worried for a moment, then nodded. She pressed her ear to the keyhole, her furrowed brow looking very odd with the bare skin above it.

  After listening for a moment, Elise raised one hand, making a mouth of the fingers and moving them so that they suggested steady conversation under way inside. Suddenly, she stiffened and pulled back, indicating to the others that they should hang back as well.

  The door opened and Peace said something to those inside as he stepped through. His tone was relaxed and easy, but Firekeeper did not let down her guard until he had come through—alone.

  He gestured for them to enter the stairwell, paused long enough to lock the door behind him. As he did so, he said:

  "They are making plans, nothing more. The artifacts are above. Lady Melina works with the ring. The comb and mirror are locked in a safe on the floor one above her."

  Firekeeper wished that Elation had volunteered whether any stayed above to guard the safe, but then neither of the wingéd folk could have known where the items were stored.

  As the next floor was not in use—as least as far as Peace had been able to discern—they passed by that door. The stair spiraled around until they had mounted to the level where, according to both Elation and Peace's informants, Lady Melina labored to awaken the secrets of the ring.

  Here Firekeeper became aware of a conflict of loyalties. Yes, Lady Melina was within—and with her one of those things—the wolf-woman had come to retrieve. Above, however, quite possibly unguarded, were the two remaining artifacts.

  Should she pass by an easy chance to obtain them just to go after Lady Melina? Wouldn't going in where her team was awake and alert be certain to cause a commotion—a commotion that might bring help from below or from alert guards posted outside?

  The more the wolf-woman considered, the less wise going through that door seemed, yet even now Peace was preparing to unlock it. She laid a hand on the man's black-robed arm, drew her Fang from the Mouth that held it.

  She pressed her lips close to his ear.

  "Wait!" she ordered.

  Standing a few paces behind Firekeeper, Elise heard the wolf-woman order Grateful Peace to stop at the very instant he would have unlocked the door. A sparkling reflection, ruddy in the candlelight, told her that the wolf-woman had not trusted her voice alone to be enough to assure obedience.

  The tip of Firekeeper's knife rested against Grateful Peace's throat and no one who had seen her at work that night would have doubted she had the strength to slice not only through skin but through spine as well.

  Peace had frozen in place, but now he dared shape a single word.

  "Why?"

  Firekeeper's brows knotted. As was often the case when she was pressured, speech—at least human speech—did not come easily to her.

  "If we do," she managed, "noise will come. So will others. Before we have the things…"

  She jerked her head to indicate above.

  Elise understood and was impressed by Firekeeper's forethought.

  "She means," she whispered hurriedly, "that if we go in where there
are six or seven people, there will be an alarm. She wants to get the items from above first."

  Grateful Peace licked his lips, a sure sign—given what he had told them of New Kelvinese mannerisms—that he was tense. Elise feared that he would do something unwise. After all, he was a man accustomed to being obeyed, one of the most important men in his kingdom.

  Would he realize the risk he would be running if he challenged Firekeeper? At times like this she was more wolf than human and from what Elise had grasped of wolf ways, there was only one way to deal with a challenger.

  Elise held her breath for what seemed like an eternity.

  "I believe," Grateful Peace managed, "that a change in plans is in order."

  "What," Wendee asked—rather bravely, Elise thought, given the wild look in Firekeeper's eyes—"will we do if they decide to leave while we are upstairs?"

  Elise watched carefully while Firekeeper, who had removed her knife from Grateful Peace's throat and motioned them away from the door, considered.

  "Blind Seer," the wolf-woman replied, "will wait here to guard. No one will leave."

  As the doors to these upper tower rooms opened almost directly into the stairwell, the wolf took up his station on one of the broad treads.

  If someone comes up the stair… Elise thought, then shrugged. Anyone coming up those stairs tonight was in for a nasty surprise, wolf or no wolf.

  Leaving Blind Seer, the five humans mounted up and around the curve to the next door. Peace took out his keys and looked to Firekeeper for permission.

  The wolf-woman nodded tersely and drew her knife, poised to spring should the room be occupied.

  It was.

  Two young people, a man and woman, both tattooed across their faces, though the patterns of those tattoos were blurred from where scarlet paint had been inadequately removed, had started up from the floor, apparently when the key turned in the lock.

  What they had been doing was quite obvious. Both were completely nude; the youth still knelt between his partner's thighs. When they saw the dark-painted features of the Dragon's Eye, their initial embarrassed flush faded into something pale and sickly.