Heart of the Wolf

by Saranne Dawson

  Daken offered to carry the heavy cloak for her until it was needed, and their hands brushed lightly as she gave it to him. Her breath caught in her throat and she looked quickly away, knowing that this was yet another moment she would be reliving tonight in her bed.

  It seemed that they walked for miles, up and down sets of stairs, through twisting corridors where children played and people stood gossiping.

  Finally, they reached the winter garden, which Jocelyn had visited with Rina, and Daken suggested that they stop there for a few moments. He was trying hard to slow his stride to match hers, but given the difference in their heights, she was still forced to walk fast to keep up with him.

  They stepped through the doorway into the moist warmth of the garden, and Jocelyn marveled anew at the lush plants growing in this glassed-in space. Just as they entered, the first tentative rays of sun poured in through the windows, and Jocelyn felt an unexpectedly sharp longing for her home. Daken,

  attentive as always to her moods, raised an enquiring brow.

  "It feels like a summer day in here,” she explained. "The only thing missing is the smell of the

  ti

  sea.

  Instead, the huge space was filled with rich, earthy smells overlaid with the fragrances of the various herbs that were grown in long, dirt-filled rows.

  "I have always wanted to visit the sea,” he said. "It is difficult to imagine anything that vast.”

  "You could return with me in the spring,” she said impulsively, then added quickly, "if your people agree to an alliance, that is."

  "If that happens, I will accept your invitation,” he responded with rather more formality than was usual for him.

  They walked slowly along the rows of herbs. There were so many different varieties. She'd asked Rina about them, but the girl hadn’t known the names of many of the ones that were unfamiliar to Jocelyn. Nearly half the space was devoted to herbs.

  Daken came to a stop before some straggly-looking bushes—the first thing she’d seen in here that wasn’t doing well.

  “It appears that our hope of growing berries in here is doomed to failure," he commented. "This is the third winter we have tried."

  “What kind of berries are they?”

  "We call them mis berries. The word ‘mis’ means ledge or rocky outcropping, which is where they grow. They are difficult to gather for that reason,

  but well worth it. It seems that they prefer to live only in difficult places."

  "Like the Kassid," she said with a smile.

  He laughed. "We don't think of this as a difficult place. It’s simply our home."

  She walked over to the windows and rubbed away the mist that had formed on them. "It is a beautiful place, Daken. I fear that when I return to Ertria, it will seem very dull by comparison.”

  She turned to him as she spoke and for one brief moment saw pain in his eyes. He turned quickly and started back along the rows, and after a moment, she followed. But the pain in him had lodged in her as well. In a few months, she would leave this place forever—and even if he returned with her, it would be to go to war.

  It would be better if I had never met him, she thought, because now I will never be able to forget him—or this place.

  They left the winter garden and soon after that began to ascend into the upper reaches of the fortress. Jocelyn was lost in a private misery that forced her for the first time to face up to the fact that Daken had come to occupy a place in her life that no other man had ever held.

  Have I fallen in love with him? she asked herself. The question, coming so suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere, devastated her.

  No, she couldn’t have, she told herself firmly. Such a thing couldn’t happen to her. Love was for those silly women who had nothing else of importance in their lives. She had an empire to rule, and

  once she was able to rule it, she would surely be able to look back at this time as nothing more than a strange interlude—a time out of time.

  Lost in her thoughts, she was failing to keep up with him and also failing to notice that the hallways had grown quite cold. She climbed the next set of stairs and saw him waiting for her at the top, holding out her cloak for her.

  “There are more steps to climb," he said when she reached him. "Are you feeling well enough to continue?"

  She turned around so that he could drape the cloak over her shoulders. Then, before she could reach around to free her loose hair, he slid his hands beneath it and lifted it. His fingers grazed lightly against the sensitive skin of her bare neck. The sensation sent shock waves through her, and she moved away from him quickly.

  “I'm fine," she said quickly, if a bit breathlessly, then attempted to make light of the moment.

  “This magic of yours had better be worth the trip.”

  “You will have to judge that for yourself," he said as he led her down yet another deserted hallway.

  "Does no one live up here?” she asked, realizing now that they hadn’t seen anyone since leaving the winter garden.

  "No. This part of the fortress has never been occupied. As you can see, the heat doesn't reach here." He smiled at her. “Apparently, even the gods had their limitations."

  She smiled, but the smile held a trace of nervousness. They were alone—truly alone for the first

  time since he’d brought her here. Excitement vied with fear, alternately sending curls of heat and shards of ice through her.

  He, however, seemed totally unaffected by their isolation and she began to wonder if what she had been feeling was completely one-sided. Daken was a complex man, easy and open with his affections, yet closed off from her as well. Unknown and unknowable. That phrase echoed through her mind, bringing back once more the image of that wolf.

  Why don't I just ask him outright? she thought. Perhaps he was even inviting that question when he said that there were things she didn’t want to know.

  But she couldn't do it. It was far easier to live with the question than to face the answer.

  Finally, they reached the end of a long, empty corridor where a heavy, carved door stood closed. Jocelyn stared at it as he reached out to grasp the big brass handle. For one brief moment, she was back in the palace cellars again—a little girl on a forbidden journey of discovery.

  It was no different from the other doors here, she told herself as he pulled it open. Indeed, she was sure that the carving was much the same. But the doors in the occupied portions of the fortress were kept polished and radiated a mellow golden warmth. Rina had told her that the wood came from a special kind of fir that lent itself handily to such intricate carving.

  This door, however, was darkened with the dust of centuries—just as that door to the secret room in the palace cellars had been. And she realized

  now that she would never have the opportunity to discuss that room with her father.

  A carved door led to a room of black stone, where figures of wolves danced in the torchlight amidst strange writing. A Kassid room, she whispered to herself; surely a Kassid room. Only that ancient writing remained unexplained; she hadn’t seen its like here, though she’d seen their writing many times.

  A Kassid room deep inside the palace of Ertria. What did it mean? Who could explain it to her— except perhaps this man? She was suddenly sure that he knew about it, that it was part of the secrets he withheld from her.

  But there was no time now to think about it further. The door opened into a narrow, winding staircase, dimly lit by slits in the black stone walls where both light and cold poured in. They must be in the tall tower she'd glimpsed from the courtyard at what she thought was the far end of the fortress.

  Round and round they went. The steps were made for bigger strides than hers, forcing her to take ungainly skipping steps to ascend ever higher.

  Then another door, identical to the one below— and to the one in the palace cellar. The air was very cold, and when they passed the slits in the walls, an icy wind blew down on them, whistling slightly as it for
ced its way through the openings. She pulled up the hood of her cloak as her ears began to bum from the cold, and she was drinking in the cold air in icy gasps by the time they reached the top—and yet another door.

  She’d expected to find herself outside on a wide

  ledge that was partly visible from the courtyard. But instead, she followed Daken into a circular room about twenty feet in diameter. There were two windows high up in the black stone walls—too high for her to see out of them. A thick, jewel-toned rug of the type she saw everywhere in the fortress covered most of the floor, and a stone fireplace was fitted into one curved wall, with a fire laid but unlit. There was no furniture of any kind—only piles of big embroidered cushions scattered about the hearth. On the hearth itself sat a gold tray with a wine carafe and gold cups, more simply wrought than the ornate, jeweled vessels used by all the Kas- sid.

  Daken went over to the fireplace and set the wood ablaze with the torch he’d picked up before they began their long climb. Then he gestured to yet another door in the curved wall.

  “This way to the magic,” he said, opening the door.

  "Does someone live here?" she asked curiously, trying not very successfully to fight off the effects of this intimate scene.

  He shook his head as he pushed open the outer door. "No, this is a place I come to when I wish to be alone to think. Our leaders have always used it for this purpose. And the watchers use it to warm themselves.”

  “Watchers?” she echoed as she stepped into the icy blast of wind pouring through the door. She hadn’t seen any guards anywhere since she’d come here. Why would they possibly need them?

  He drew her through the door and closed it be-

  hind him. "Not guards—signal watchers and senders. This is our means of communication.”

  They had emerged onto a wide stone balcony at the very top of the tower. Jocelyn failed to notice the object he indicated as she stared in wonder.

  Surely, she thought, this is where one can truly touch the heavens. It was, she was sure, the highest point in the fortress. Below her were the tile roofs of the residential areas, jumbled unevenly as they rose out of the black stone.

  Still ignoring the object he’d pointed out, she walked over to the low wall, then shrank back with a gasp. For one heart-stopping moment she could actually feel herself falling through endless space into a ravine so deep and dark she couldn’t even see its bottom. She staggered back as she felt its terrifying pull. Then two arms reached out to grasp her, pulling her back against a reassuringly solid body.

  "You’re safe," he said, his mouth close to her ear as he bent to her. "You’re not really falling.”

  She stood there breathing hard as she began to regain her sense of balance. He was right, of course; she’d never truly been in danger. But that awful feeling . . . She shivered and his arms tightened about her.

  "Why did it feel as though I were falling?” she asked in a voice that trembled slightly.

  "I don’t know, but many people feel that up here. For you, it must be worse, since you are unaccustomed to what we consider to be ordinary heights."

  His head was still bent to her and his low voice was soft against her ear. Her fear subsided—to be

  replaced by an overwhelming sense of him, of his closeness. She stifled a protest when he finally dropped his arms and moved away.

  "I brought Rina up here when she was little, and she had nightmares about falling for many nights after. But now she likes to come up here. There is no other place in the fortress where one can see so much of the mountains.”

  It was true. She’d been so preoccupied with that terrifying abyss that she’d paid scant attention to the rest of the scene.

  The Dark Mountains marched off in an endless, disorderly parade. A few distant peaks seemed as high as the tower—but none was taller. The stark contrast of snowy patches against the black rock was dazzling. Even though the sky was now clearing, clouds clung to the higher peaks as though they’d been caught there and prevented from moving on.

  It was, she knew, another scene she would never forget—the very essence of this strange, wild land.

  Then, as she turned slowly to see it all, Jocelyn finally noticed the strange device he’d tried to show her earlier. It was a huge mirror, many times larger than anything she’d ever seen—and it was mounted atop a wooden structure. Ropes dangled from the edges of the frame that held the mirror, tied loosely around the supporting legs. Daken walked over to it and she followed.

  "This is how we communicate with the other fortresses. We have a schedule for all the fortresses. Two of them can send and receive signals directly,

  but the third must communicate through one of the other two.”

  "I don’t understand." She frowned.

  He pointed to the ropes. "These raise and lower the mirror and change the angle so that it reflects the sunlight, then turns away from it. Watchers at the other fortresses can see the light."

  "But what can that tell them?"

  "Long ago, a code was worked out, based on tilting the mirrors at various speeds. What the watcher sees is either quick bursts of light or a longer, steady light. When the weather permits, each fortress sends an ‘all’s well’ signal each midday, followed by other messages if there are any.”

  He stared up at the sky. "It is time now, but there may not be a signal today, since the sky is just now clearing." He pointed off to their left.

  "Watch in that direction, and to the right as well. If they come, the signals will be from there."

  The sun dipped behind a cloud, then emerged a moment later—and when it did, she saw a flash of light, then another from some distance away. The light remained steady for a long moment. Daken began to loosen the ropes, then tilted the big mirror, and Jocelyn quickly shielded her eyes as it caught the sun.

  "It's not a perfect system, since it depends on sunlight,” he said as he held the mirror in place. "But it works well enough.”

  After a few moments, both distant lights winked out, and then Daken lowered the mirror and retied the ropes.

  “So there were no messages,” she said, hiding

  her disappointment. She'd let herself hope that a message might come regarding the alliance, though she knew it was foolish to expect it to come just because she was up here this day.

  "No, they wouldn’t be likely to have any, since the weather was uncertain.”

  Jocelyn stared at the device, oblivious for the moment to the cold wind whipping about her. She was fascinated by it and began to imagine how such a thing could be put to use in Ertria.

  "It could work for you as well," Daken said, "although you would have to build tall towers to hold the mirrors, since you have no mountains."

  She nodded, envisioning a line of such towers stretching across the plains and even connecting the islands that were also part of her empire. She was eager to discuss it with Hammad, whose men could surely build the towers.

  But not if they must go to war instead, she reminded herself suddenly and began to shiver.

  "Come inside,” he said, taking her arm. "The fire will have warmed the room by now.”

  After the howling wind and bitter cold, the room was cozily warm and intimate with its richly colored rug and the big, embroidered pillows. Even the simple act of shedding their heavy outer garments seemed laden with sensuality. Jocelyn forgot all about her plans to build mirror-towers as the warmth of the room combined with the voluptuous heat spreading through her. A small inner voice warned her that they should leave this place quickly, but she ignored it. Here was where she wanted to be—alone with him.

  He poured them both some wine and they both seated themselves on the cushions, a careful distance between them. It seemed essential to talk of something now, so her mind went back to the mirror-tower, which did indeed intrigue her.

  "We could build mirror-towers,” she told him. "And we have sunshine most of the time—more than you have here."

  But she couldn’t quite hold onto tha
t dream, and bleakness overtook her. "But we can’t build them if there is war," she finished sadly.

  “There will be war,” he stated as he stared into the fire. "I told your father that long ago. Ertria has let itself become too weak. All that was lacking then was a strong and greedy man like Arrat."

  "But how could you have known it would come to this?" she asked fiercely. His nearness was overwhelming her, and she lashed out at him in a perverse attempt to deny that.

  “You have lived here apart from the rest of the world for centuries now. I didn’t even know the Kassid were real—I thought you were only a legend. And our Balek guide told me that only a few of his people had ever seen you, let alone talked to you. Do you have spies, Daken?”

  He met her gaze levelly and shook his head slowly. "I cannot tell you how we get our information, Jocelyn. There are people who must be protected. And in any event, we are doing no more than you yourself do.”

  "But we have no spies here," she pointed out acerbically.

  "That is true enough—but you would if you could."

  She said nothing because she knew he was right. How very safe they were, here in their mountains. Even if the Menoans and Turveans overran all of Ertria and Balek, the Kassid had no real cause for alarm. No one—not even Arrat—would be foolish enough to attack them. She said as much to Daken in a bitter tone.

  “I think he might be foolish enough to try, but he would never defeat us. It is the fact that he may try that made me decide we should ally ourselves with you, and it is that fact that will decide the others as well.