Through Wolf's Eyes (58 page)

"It's a nice bit of carving," Wain said as he worked.
"Very nice, but after seeing this young lady's companion I can think of
a half-dozen things I'd do differently."

"Don't," Elise pleaded. "It must be as much like the original as you can make it."

"I understand," Wain said peaceably. "Good luck for
you that I already have some nice jet in stock. Got it from a trader
who came down from the Iron Mountains. Prime stuff and I can offer you
a good price."

Derian stepped up then and Firekeeper let her
attention drift as the intricacies of haggling began. She knew she
should make an effort to learn this skill, even realized that the
thrill of getting a good price for something must be similar to that of
a successful hunt, but she couldn't escape the feeling that the strong
should take, not ask. Even her own acceptance that she was not one of
the strong hadn't undermined her faith in this division of property.

Blind Seer, apparently asleep out in a patch of sunlight in the gem carver's yard, sensed her restlessness.

"What are we going to do about this Melina Shield?"

Firekeeper moved to sit next to him.
"I wish I knew. Things were simpler in the wolflands."

"Only because you were a pup and others made your decisions for you."

"Hmm."
She considered and accepted the veracity of this.
"Still,
I favor the simple solution. We should attack this Melina, you and I,
some dark night and take her necklace. Or, even better, I could slip
into her tent and take it while she sleeps."

"You could,"
the wolf agreed.
"Then what?"

"Then we destroy it and the spell is broken."

"And if it is not a spell, if it is this trance induction?"

"Still, Melina will no longer have the necklace. Her frightened pups will see she no longer has power over them."

Blind Seer snorted.
"They think the power is in
her, not in the necklace. That will do nothing and she will have
another necklace done. No, Little Two-legs, the answer is not so
simple."

"Maybe not,"
Firekeeper agreed with a sigh.
"I
haven't forgotten the promise I made to King Tedric. Each night I
prowl, but no one seems to hunt him. The attack on Sapphire was the
only attack we have seen and I know too little of cities. Everyone
seems to think that such human predators thrive therein like beetles
beneath a rotting carcass."

"True. But we will not cease in our vigilance."

"Of course not. Besides, I like roaming about at night."

She rested her head on the wolf's flank and lay there
with her eyes closed, trying to come up with solutions. From inside the
shop she heard Elise say to Derian, her tone distinctly wistful:

"I wish I was Firekeeper. Look at her there, not a worry in the world."

Firekeeper didn't disabuse her. Let Elise take
comfort in such fancies if she could. Soon, she suspected, they all
would have very little time for any consideration of such niceties.

O
N SOME LEVELS
,
Prince Newell Shield was a very happy man. Through discreet
questioning, he had received the impression that his pet Stonehold
generals were leaping through their hoops of fear and superstition just
as he had planned. At least one courier had been dispatched to their
central command and carrier pigeons had been sent in advance of the
courier.

Without telling him anything of this, General Yuci
had pleaded with Newell to delay any permanent alliance between Bright
Bay and Hawk Haven. When, later, Yuci expressed his delight that the
ball had been scheduled for several days after King Tedric and Duke
Allister's initial meeting and thanked Newell for using his influence
to assist their cause, Newell accepted his thanks, not wanting to
embarrass the good man, even though logistical concerns— rather than
any machinations on
his
part—had been the reason for the delay.

He was less happy about events within King Tedric's
own court. On the afternoon following his second meeting with Allister
Seagleam, King Tedric had summoned Zorana Archer to wait upon him in
his chambers within the Fortress of the Watchful Eye. The noblewoman
had gone to the meeting with a triumphant glow in her eye and a proud
arch to her neck—reminding her sometime lover rather of a war-horse.
She had returned with the air of a beaten cur.

Rumor had quickly spread—for King Tedric had not kept
their conference any great secret—that she had been severely berated
for usurping his prerogatives. The king had not specifically said that
Zorana had ruined the chances of one of her sons and daughters being
privileged with a marriage alliance, but bets around camp were firmly
against her.

In her disgrace, Zorana had focused her attention on
grooming her son and daughter for the ball. She was also avoiding
Newell, though whether out of anger or embarrassment, the prince wasn't
certain. He figured he would smooth things out during the ball, when
his attentions would be interpreted by observers as mere courtesy.

Newell was unwilling to trust to Stonehold alone for his success. There was still too much harmony in the Hawk Haven
encampment
for his taste. Lady Elise was treating Lady Blysse more like a sister
than a rival for the crown. Sapphire Shield was speaking to her cousin
again. Elise remained rather cool to Jet, but that was understandable
given that the young idiot had been foolish enough to shame her by
going to a public brothel.

The two other girls—Nydia and Opal—seemed to be
treating the unfolding events as if they were a drama which they were
observing rather than living. Maybe he could do something with that.
The men—other than Jet—were pretty much out of his reach. Earl Kestrel,
Baron Archer, and Purcel True-heart all had been dutifully attending to
their commands within the army—eager, no doubt, to show the king what
responsible and mature kings or regents they would make.

As if they were all carved pieces on a game board,
Newell moved this one here, considered pressing that one there. . . .
Over and over, he arrived at a plan only to reject it. Finally, only
two pieces remained: Jet and Lady Blysse.

Could he contrive to make it appear that Jet and
Blysse were romantically entangled? He rejected that almost
immediately. Blysse barely spoke to Jet and Jet seemed to have lost his
balls since the night his sister was assaulted.

Maybe Newell should entice Jet out. Late. . .

The pieces of the puzzle began to lock into place.
Out late. . . Behaving shamefully . . . What would little Blysse—that
dangerous Firekeeper—do if she saw Jet with his arms around a couple of
light ladies? Wouldn't it be reasonable for her to fly into a fury at
this added insult to her beloved friend? Consider what her wolf had
done to one of Sapphire's assailants. And, of course, there would be a
witness, unimpeachable as daylight: Prince Newell Shield himself.

The prince laughed, heartened once more. Now he
simply needed to find a way to put his plan into action. It would take
honing, especially developing a way to confirm that Lady Blysse would
not have a convenient alibi for her whereabouts at the time of the
attack. Still, the rewards were too great for him not to attempt to
carry this out.

Surely if Lady Blysse killed Jet that would end her friendship with Elise. Sapphire, no matter how grateful for Blysse's
role
in saving her own life, would certainly be infuriated. She might even
challenge Blysse to a duel. That would be just lovely. They might both
end up dead or maimed. And as an added bonus, everyone would be
distracted from whatever Stonehold might be stirring up.

Newell smiled and resisted the impulse to rub his
hands together like a craftsman anticipating a day in his workshop.
Step One: Talk to Jet. Step Two: Find a way to get Lady Blysse out of
the way. Step Three: Sit back and enjoy the bloodshed.

Glancing across the encampment, he saw the king's
carriage moving across the grounds, doubtless taking the king to
another secret or semi-secret conference. Newell shook his head sadly.

The king really should have kept him closer at hand.
It was really Tedric's own fault that the prince was left with so much
time to pursue his own plans. He considered telling Tedric this at an
appropriate moment and smiled. That news might even trigger the
necessary fatal heart attack. Wouldn't that be perfect!

D
ESPITE COMPLAINTS FROM BOTH
staff and participants that they had not been given enough time to
prepare, the ball was held on the third day following King Tedric's
first meeting with Duke Allister Seagleam of Bright Bay. Obviously,
Derian mused as he rubbed polish into dress shoes bought especially for
the occasion, there were advantages to being a king.

Such thoughts distracted him from the fact that he
was distinctly nervous about his role in this evening's planned
entertainment. He would have been content to attend as he had now
attended so many grand functions—as Firekeeper's nearly invisible
servant.

At first that invisibility had bothered him, but now
he admitted there were times that he revelled in it. Unnoticed, he
heard and saw things that no one bothered to hide from a servant.

He knew, for example, though he had spoken of it to
no one, that Lady Zorana was carrying on a flirtation, if not more,
with Prince Newell. He knew that Lady Sapphire's maid took snuff—a
thing that would horrify her mistress. He knew that Baron Ivon Archer
had a fondness for strong brandy in his evening cup of tea—and that
sometimes he skipped the tea completely.

Derian was honest enough with himself to admit that
he might not be so happy with his state if there were not plenty of
people above the level of servant who treated him as an
equal.
His early hopeless crush on Elise had faded and now he felt about her
as he might a sister. Doc had not put on airs with his return to
society and remained the same forthright and direct man he had been on
the road west. And Firekeeper remained impossibly herself.

Tonight, however, Derian must leave off his servant's
anonymity and step onto the floor as a member of the party. Someone—he
suspected Firekeeper—had told Earl Kestrel that Derian was an excellent
dancer. Knowing that many of the officers invited to attend would not
wish to dance with any but those whose political loyalties they were
certain of, the earl had commanded Derian to join the party, to fill in
where needed so that no lady need stand out more than one dance.

"Lucky me," Derian muttered; then he felt instantly ashamed.

Earl Kestrel had been generous, standing the bill for
an entire costume beginning with a new tricorn hat and including a
white ruffled shirt, a tailored waistcoat cut from brown and green
brocade, dark green knee-breeches, raw silk stockings, and the very
same wide-buckled shoes that Derian had just finished rubbing to the
satin polish that his father had insisted on for the best of their
horse leather.

Once dressed, Derian joined Earl Kestrel. Out of his
cavalry commander's uniform for the first time since they had left
Eagle's Nest, the earl was dressed in court attire. His dark blue
knee-breeches might have been bought in town, but the waistcoat striped
in Kestrel blue and red with a hovering hawk embroidered on the right
breast must be from his own wardrobe. Derian did not put it past Valet
to have found room to pack the waistcoat away among more practical
attire—just in case.

When Derian arrived, Valet was setting Earl Kestrel's
tricorn on his head, just as carefully as if he were finishing a work
of art.

"You will do, my lord," Valet said, surveying the
final effect with muted satisfaction. "I suppose one cannot expect too
much when forced to attire in a tent."

Earl Kestrel gave one of his rare smiles. "I am certain I
look
fine." Seeing Derian he added, "Run your eye over that tall redhead,
though to my way of seeing, he looks quite a bit finer than the
sunburned young man who has been with me these past weeks."

"Good evening, Earl Kestrel," Derian said,
flabbergasted at this unaccustomed praise. Valet winked at him and
adjusted the line of Derian's waistcoat.

"You'll do, Derian Carter."

Earl Kestrel nodded. "Thank you, Valet. Derian, shall
we go? Lady Blysse is with Lady Archer. I told the carriage to meet us
at her pavilion."

As they strolled to where the rest of the nobility
was encamped, the soldiers stopped cooking their dinners or playing at
dice to comment on their attire. Taking his lead from the earl, Derian
did his best to respond appropriately or not at all. Still, he was
certain that by the time they reached Elise's pavilion his ears must
have been as red as his hair.

Baron Archer was waiting outside the tent for them, smoking his pipe.