To be honest, Blind Seer hadn't improved the situation by pissing on the edge of the horse trough, marking the dogs' territory for his own with his arrogant stream. The dogs hadn't made it any better for themselves by cringing away from the wolf without even a token snarl or snap.
At the time, Firekeeper had been proud of her pack mate. They'd laughed over the incident, entertaining themselves by recalling every aspect of the event, shaping it so that it would make a good tale for the story circles when they next went home.
Tonight the dogs were not cringing. Firekeeper scented something in the air, a sharpness like liquor or like blood. She wondered if the men had given something to their dogs so that the dogs wouldn't feel fear or if the dogs had been beaten.
There were many dogs, more than there were men. Their eyes were muddy brown in the shifting lantern light and their teeth were the color of old ivory, not white like Blind Seer's. But there were many mouths filled with many teeth and all of them were bared.
At the first sound of the approaching group, the wolf-woman had risen to her feet in a single lithe motion so natural that it didn't seem motion at all. Blind Seer had also eased to his feet and stood beside her, enormous in the confined space. His silver-grey fur caught the lamplight and gave it back. There was a sound like distant thunder.
The Royal Wolf was growling.
A dog shrank back and tried to run, but a man booted him in the ribs. The dog froze, caught between pain he knew and a fear so visceral that he could not deny it.
A man said something to Firekeeper. He spoke New Kelvinese. Firekeeper, who had not been present for Grateful Peace's language lessons and probably wouldn't have paid attention even if she had been, didn't understand.
"I not know that talk," she said, haughty as Earl Kestrel.
Another man spoke in Pellish as broken as her own, though the fractures ran along different lines.
"You have a big dog there, girl," he said, and she understood his mocking tone better than any of his words. "We have dogs, too. We don't like your dog. We think he make a good rug or maybe a cloak. What you think?"
Firekeeper's answer was to lunge. Her logic was simple wolf logic that answered threat with either an answering threatùif one felt the opponent could be so intimidatedùor with surrender or with attack. She did not think she could threaten these men. They would not see their danger until too late. Nor did it occur to her to surrender. That left only attack.
Besides, the difference between thieves and bandits was the level of threat they offered. These had said they would kill Blind Seer and make him into a cloak or rug. That meant they were bandits, not thieves. Edlin had said that it was permissible to kill bandits.
The bullies' spokesman was dead before he hit the dirt. There was a distinct chance that his severed head watched the action a bit after his body had stopped breathing, for his eyes were wide in shock.
Blind Seer acted as if linked in thought with his pack mate. At his slightest movement, some of the dogs ran. Others leapt at him, maddened by the smell of blood and by the conflicting fears that coursed through their veins. The wolf snapped at these as he might have at flies. Two dropped dead, one with a broken back, the other with a broken neck.
Then did the other dogs turn, tails between their legs, their yelping cries warning the night.
Blind Seer paid them no heed. He lunged at a man who was slashing at Firekeeper. The man's arm was crushed just below the elbow. His knife fell to the muddy ground. The man's screams blended with those of the dogs. He backed off a few steps, then crumpled in a faint.
Four men armed with knives or swords or, in one case, a long spear now faced a solitary young woman armed only with a hunting knife, a wolf poised at her side. The men had strapped on leather wrist braces and donned heavy boots of the type favored by people who enjoy kicking other people in the ribs. The girl wore a fine leather vest and trousers cut off beneath the knee. Her feet were bare.
It wasn't anything like a fair match and the men knew it. Turning, they ran. There's a problem about running from wolves. Wolves like to give chaseùand Firekeeper and Blind Seer were wolves.
By the time people had streamed out of the inn, responding to the commotion as humans do, first with confused discussion, then with action, the hunt was over.
Firekeeper and Blind Seer weren't hungry, though, only upset, which is why the four men lived. They lay unconscious in the muddy fields just beyond the shed and if they bled a bit, well, one does after falling… or being knocked down rather hard.
It took Firekeeper several minutes to realize that she and Blind Seer were in big trouble.
First the horses had to be calmed. Spattered with blood as she was, Firekeeper knew she wouldn't be much help with that, but it did mean that Derian wasn't there to explain things to her. Edlin was helping him. Doc and Elise were checking the man whose arm had been crushed. Nothing could be done, of course, for the one she had decapitated.
Firekeeper drifted back to the edge of the circle of light created by the emergence of numerous lantern-bearing people from the inn. She was watchful, for Firekeeper was always watchful, but she wasn't particularly apprehensive. Well, maybe a little about the human she had killed, for humans were odd about the killing of humans.
But why should she be nervous? She had been attacked. She had defended herself. Blind Seer, who she was learning to protect from human fear, hadn't even killed a human, just a couple of dogs.
Ugly dogs, too, belonging to low-status humans. Bandits. Did that make the dogs bandits, too? Could dogs be bandits or did the human tendency to assume that all animals were stupid absolve the dogs from guilt? Perhaps there would be trouble over the dogs after all.
Firekeeper was chewing over this when she heard Wendee calling for her. There was an odd note in Wendee's voice, so Firekeeper paused rather than heading directly over.
Wendee was not alone. She had come about halfway across the inn's courtyard. Behind her paced six or seven armed guards.
"Wait here," Firekeeper said to Blind Seer. "I don't like this."
The wolf's reply was to fade further into the darkness. Then Firekeeper came forward, moving easily as if she had seen nothing to cause concern.
"Firekeeper!" Wendee said, and there were emotions in her voice Firekeeper couldn't quite place, but the wolf-woman was willing to bet that they had something to do with those armed guards. "These men want to talk with you."
"So," Firekeeper said, stopping in midstride. "Talk."
Instantly, she knew that she had done somethingùshe wasn't sure whatùwrong. Several of the guards shifted their grips on their weapons as if readying them. Their leader, a big, thickset man who reminded Firekeeper of a tree trunk, stepped alongside Wendee.
"Not here," he said in Pellish, his accent heavy. "Inside."
"Why?" Firekeeper asked, thinking her query completely reasonable.
The guard captain apparently didn't share her opinion. He started to say something in Pellish, then shifted to New Kelvinese, directing his remarks at Wendee.
Wendee translated, evidently quite unhappy.
"He says that he doesn't see why he should stand out in the mud to interrogate a murderer."
Firekeeper frowned. She knew the word, but didn't think it applied to her. Perhaps Wendee had mistranslated.
"Me?"
"You," Wendee replied, "at least as he sees it. From what I can gather, they see you as a killer in possession of a dangerous animal. They thought it was Blind Seer who had killed the man, but Doc assured them that even a wolf as big as Blind Seer couldn't have taken off a man's headùat least not while leaving it intact."
"Good," Firekeeper said. She wouldn't want Blind Seer to get either blame or credit for her actions.
Wendee nodded, but it was clear she misunderstood the wolf-woman.
"Yes, at least you'll have a chance to argue for Blind Seer's lifeùand for your own. Won't you come inside? Making them come after you or remain standing in the mud and wet isn't g
oing to help."
Firekeeper had numerous questions. Why should she need argue at all? The bandits had needed killing. Maybe these guards wondered why she hadn't killed all six. She doubted it, though. The use of the word "murderer" was not a good sign.
She also saw the wisdom in Wendee's suggestion.
"I go inside," she agreed, "but tell them no to touch me."
Wendee took a deep breath.
"They want you to hand over your knife."
Firekeeper shook her head.
"No."
The manner in which she said the word gave it the force of a blunt weapon. The guard captain needed no translation. He said something to his men. Two unslung bows and began to string them. Firekeeper considered for barely a breath, weighing the options. As she saw things, there was only one wise course of action.
These men were not bandits, only guards doing their duty. She had known many such and would not harm them for so slight a reason. Equally, she would not surrender her Fang. She had always refused, at first out of prudence, but the concessions she had gained now made it a matter of pride as well.
The bows were hardly bent, the stings not even tight before Firekeeper made her decision. She dove for the shelter of a nearby wagon parked in the courtyard. From there she had her choice of many shadows. Once within their embrace, she was gone into the friendly darkness.
Chapter XVII
TORIOVICO SPUN, balancing less around his physical center than around his loneliness. It was a more perfect center than anything else could be. Weight and muscle might shift and change, but never this.
As the Healed One came to a halt and was about to go into a new move, one that involved reclining in a split on the cool marble floor followed by motions recalling a willow in the wind, he heard a sound from the open archway. He looked up.
Melina stood in the doorway, a heavy book tucked under her arm. Her pale blond hair had been dressed in the New Kelvinese fashion and she had taken to New Kelvinese styles as if they had been designed for her, wearing the long embroidered robes with grace, tripping along in shoes with the longest and curliest of toes.
Although Melina had not resisted cutting her hairùindeed, she had been pleased that New Kelvinese style and dyes hid its silveringùshe had been slow to adopt tattooing on her face, not wishing, Toriovico thought, to mar her elegant if rather severe features with the puffing and scabbing that followed the procedure.
However, Melina loved elaborate face paints, especially those that emphasized her startlingly clear blue-grey eyes. In this way, she did not embarrass anyone by exposing her naked face.
Today her eyes were the centers of wispy flowers that also evoked the wide-awake look of owls. Her drawn-in eyebrows were set slightly higher than her natural ones, enhancing the impression of startled alertness and inviting the trained eye to study the contrast.
Toriovico felt his gaze drawn into hers and saw Melina's smile turn slightly lascivious. Since today's dance was for practice rather than performance, he wore little more than a loin wrap. Melina, rather than being offended by his lack of formality as many highborn New Kelvinese would at least pretend to be, seemed to enjoy her husband's undress.
She motioned for him to come closer, and Toriovico rose as if a puppet on strings. No longer did he wonder at the wisdom of his marriage to her. She was the heart and soul of his universe, a warm caress that blunted the pang of his solitary state.
Melina kissed him, warm and lingering.
"After you bathe and cool yourself," she said, "come and sit with me in the gardens. I've hardly seen you today."
Toriovico obeyed. It never occurred to him to do otherwise.
YET WHEN TORIOVICO CAME TO MELINA IN THE GARDENS, she hardly seemed to notice his approach. The large book she had been carrying earlier was open across her lap and she looked up from its ornately calligraphied pages only reluctantly. Even after she had turned her face up to accept his kiss and patted the bench beside her as an invitation for Toriovico to come and sit beside her, she still seemed distracted.
Torio, basking in the warm glow he felt only when Melina was near, was only slightly miffed at his wife's inattention. Idly, he glanced at his rival's spine, unsurprised to find it a scholarly compendium of folklore and legend. Melina was always reading one of these. She said she'd never understand her adopted people if she didn't study the type of things they imbibed with their mother's milk.
"I had a nurse," Toriovico had replied, a thing that had seemed quite witty at the time. Now, fresh from immersion in the dance, the statement seemed both flat and stupid.
He put the memory from him, not wanting anything to ruin his comfortable mood. Melina, too, made an effort to put aside her distraction, honoring him with a particularly warm smile and slipping her slender hand into his own larger, heavier one.
"You wanted to see me, my dear?" Toriovico asked, not really because he cared about anything but this moment, but because he would not leave undone anything Melina desired.
"Who wouldn't want to see you?" Melina said playfully, inserting two fingers under the collar of his robe and stroking his skin. "You keep yourself in such wonderful form."
"I must," he said matter-of-factly, "for the dance."
"Did I take you from your practice too soon?" Melina asked with that thoughtful attention to his needs that was mysteriously unlike the flattery of courtiers and servants.
"Never too soon," he said, "if my lady can spare me her time."
His words sounded like a rather trite line from a play. Indeed, a few seconds later Toriovico had placed them as a line from a play, one of those romantic melodramas his sisters had sighed over when they were girls.
Melina continued to stroke the skin just beneath Torio's collar with a repetitious, soothing motion that relaxed him completely. Indeed, Toriovico had to struggle not to drift of to sleep.
"I saw Apheros today," Melina said idly. "The poor man seems quite put out."
Torio thought it rather odd to hear the formidable Dragon Speaker described in a fashion that would be more appropriate for a small boy.
"Oh," he said drowsily.
He must not yawn. Melina would be terribly offended. Put out, even.
"Yes," Melina said, shifting her caress to the base of his neck and massaging the muscles in slow circles. "I asked what was troubling him and he finally admitted that he'd brought a proposal to you some days agoùsomething to do with Waterland tradeùand he felt you'd been less than enthusiastic."
Toriovico struggled for a moment, then recalled the Waterland trade packet.
"I told you about the meeting at the time," he reminded her, "that same evening. I rather thought the Waterland business representatives wanted quite a lot for far too little."
"Magical artifacts are too little?" Melina said, surprised.
"Potential magical artifacts," he countered, sitting up a bit straighter. "Dearest, you're going to have to stop rubbing my neck if you want me to think straight."
Obediently, Melina dropped her hands into her lap. Toriovico took the opportunity to put two fingers under her chin and tilt her face up for a kiss. Then, with an effortùfor those lips were powerfully distractingùhe returned to business.
"The Sodality of Artificers will send someone into Waterland to make a preliminary inspection whenùand ifùthe Waterlanders agree. They've been rather uncooperative to this pointùas if they'd expect us to buy a horse without checking its teeth!"
Melina chuckled softly.
"Perhaps I am to blame, beloved," she said. "After all, didn't you accept me and those artifacts I brought without prior inspection?"
"True," Toriovico said.
Or rather Apheros did. I think I might have hesitated. Yet Apheros was right in his judgment. Those artifactsùwell, at least the mirrorùwere magical.
"But those had a provenance," he said. "These artifacts have been rather conveniently discovered. Prime Dimiria claims to have seen some of them years ago during her residence abroad, but she's not an
Artificer. Indeed, her vision has dimmed over the yearsùnot that she'd appear in public wearing spectacles!ùand I doubt she'd be able to detect a substitution."
Melina snuggled against him and he encircled her slender body with one arm.
"You seem to have thought a great deal about this, Torio."
"I am the Healed One," he reminded her gently, "and the welfare of my people, especially in regards to magic, is my special duty."
I wonder what she would say, he thought, if she knew that my most sacred duty is to forbid magic rather than to encourage it?
He didn't need to think hard to find the answer to that question. Melina was the most devoted magical scholar in Thendulla Lypella, for she alone was undistracted by any duty to a sodality. Indeed, some had suggested creating a title and post for her, perhaps giving her a staff to facilitate her research. The matter was being debated in the Primes this session.
However, such thoughts drifted away even as he grasped at them. How long they sat in the shaded nook in the flower-scented bower, he didn't know. What he was next aware of was Melina pulling away from his loose embrace.
"Where are you going?" he said.
"Inside. It's getting rather chilly."
Torio didn't think so, but perhaps his southern bride felt such things differently. He rose as she did.
"Torio," Melina said, her tone subtly commanding. "You will think about giving Apheros his way in this Waterland matter."
"Yes, my dear," he said obediently.
She smiled then and kissed him lightly. Then, gathering her book, she hurried from the garden.
Toriovico watched her until she was out of sight, mindless of anything but her departing admonition.
THEY SEE LADY BLYSSE'S FLIGHT as an admission of guilt," Grateful Peace explained to Derian after a harrowing few hours during which the Hawk Havenese had not been certain how much of the anger and fear directed at Firekeeper would rebound upon them.
Peace had done wonders, never abandoning his guise as Jalarios, humble guide and translator, but somehow managing to keep his charges free. It hadn't hurt that Doc had immediately offered his services to tend the wounded man. Indeed, Doc had insisted. Even now Elise, Wendee, and Doc remained with the patient and the word had just been sent down that he was expected to live.
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