Through Wolf's Eyes (59 page)

"Good evening, Earl Kestrel. Good evening, Mister Carter."

They answered and then the earl added, "Blasted hot,
isn't it? I could have danced for joy when I heard that jackets were
unnecessary for this event. I don't think my valet was pleased, but
then he's a stickler for form. Still, I held my ground."

Baron Archer chuckled and tamped out his pipe. "The
carriage is ready and the young women should be with us momentarily.
Ah! Here they are even now."

Derian managed to keep his mouth from gaping open by
sheer force of will, having been alerted by faint giggles from within
that something must be up.

First to emerge was Elise, resplendent in a gown of
silvery satin with side panels of glowing green. Her golden hair was
piled high on her head and adorned with a few tasteful white rosebuds.
The jet wolf's head was nestled in the hollow of her throat, the only
spot of darkness in a confection of light. Although he looked
carefully, Derian could not tell if the jewel was the original or the
promised replacement.

The woman who followed her must be Firekeeper, but
she was like no Firekeeper that Derian had ever seen. The gown in which
she was attired was pale blue with rose piping about the throat. To
conceal the scars that marked her every limb, the gown's sleeves were
long, but constructed of a loose diaphanous gauze that revealed the
grace of Firekeeper's arms while hiding their flaws. Above the modest
neckline of her gown she wore a strand of polished lapis beads—an early
gift from Earl Kestrel. Her dark brown hair was now long enough to be
worn upswept but a few tendrils had been left to curl about her temples.

Derian was not the only one stunned to silence. Earl Kestrel stood gaping for a moment before offering his arm.

"Lady Blysse, you look lovely," he said.

Firekeeper smiled and Derian could almost swear that
she blushed. Baron Archer gave an approving nod, knocked the last ash
from his pipe, and offered his arm to his daughter.

"Earl Kestrel and I," he said, "are fortunate to have two such lovely ladies to escort. Come along. We don't want to be late."

Trailing the others, Derian glanced back over his
shoulder. Standing in the door of the pavilion, Ninette waved
cheerfully, mouthing:

"Have fun!"

Standing beside her, his tail just a little low and
his ears cocked at a forlorn angle, Blind Seer watched them leave.
Seeing Derian's gaze on him, he managed a quick wag before his brush
drooped again.

Poor guy,
Derian thought.
More and more Firekeeper's going places where he can't follow. I don't blame him for not liking that at all.

Above him he heard a shrill whistle and could swear that Elation, soaring in the darkening sky above, was agreeing with him.

T
HEY WERE NOT LATE
,
but neither were they the first to arrive. In order to round out the
festivities and keep the ball from being too obviously what it was—a
chance for King
Tedric to review his great nieces
and nephews in company with each other—a number of military officers
and important citizens from the two towns had been invited as well.

Especially for the townsfolk, this was the event of a
lifetime, something they would be telling their children and
grandchildren about two generations hence.
The night I was invited to King Tedric's ball I saw . . .
No wonder they didn't want to miss a single moment.

Derian rather wished that he could miss a moment or
two. Whispered comments, half-heard, made him acutely aware that he was
masquerading as a nobleman. What was he but a carter's son?

Background music was playing softly as their party
moved through the reception line, greeting King Tedric and Duke
Allister as representatives of their respective monarchies, and Mayors
Terulle and Shoppe of Hope and Good Crossing as heads of the twinned
towns. When the orchestra struck up the overture to a line dance
popular since before the days of Queen Zorana, Derian began to fade
back, alert for a woman in need of a partner.

A hand lightly plucked his sleeve. He turned and saw Lady Elise, a bright flush lighting her cheeks.

"Will you dance this one with me?" she asked. "Jet is
doing everything he can to pretend he hasn't located me just yet in the
crowd and I don't want to end up slighted."

Derian swept a deep bow. "I would be honored, my lady. Forgive me for bluntness, but your betrothed is an ass."

"I should call you out on that," she said with a
light laugh that didn't fool him at all, "but my father cautioned me
that this could be an opportunity to make a good impression."

"Indeed," he replied in what he hoped were courtly accents.

As they took a place at the bottom of a set, Derian
noticed that Jet had nearly pounced on one of Allister Seagleam's young
daughters: Anemone, he thought, but it might well be Minnow.

Derian quickly made a joke, hoping that Elise
wouldn't notice Jet's tactlessness. The fellow to his right, a nervous
townsman, picked up on the quip and soon they were all
laughing.
When counting off of sets of four began from the top of the line, they
were cheered to find themselves in the same set.

The dance began rather roughly, for although the Star
Waltz had been around for a long time, it had clearly evolved
differently in the two monarchies. The variety that the lead was
familiar with was the Bright Bay version. Fortunately, the residents of
Hope and Good Crossing seemed to know both forms and helped Derian and
Elise along.

Derian found himself easily swept into the next dance
by the simple expedient of trading partners with his new townsman
friend. That lucky man nearly stepped on his own feet when he learned
that he was dancing with the future Baroness Archer. Derian's partner
was slightly disappointed when she learned Derian was no one so famous,
but he tried to make up for this by being a sprightly and talented
dancer.

By the third dance, Derian had forgotten that he ever
felt nervous or out of place. From long habit, he kept an eye on
Firekeeper. Not surprisingly, given her presumed favor with the king,
she was not short of partners. Elise was also doing well. Jet came
through for the third dance and the rules of etiquette that dictated
that even an engaged couple shouldn't dance more than two dances
together gave them an excuse to stay apart without seeming to slight
each other.

Relaxed now, Derian was more than happy to fulfill
Earl Kestrel's commission that no woman be left without a partner. When
the music began again after an intermission, he noticed a stately
though somewhat older woman standing alone. He strode over and had
already begun to ask her to dance before he realized that his
prospective partner was Lady Melina Shield, the reputed sorceress.

With her silver-streaked, blond hair swept up in an
intricate knot interlaced with a strand of multicolored polished
gemstone beads, and the glittering diamond-cut gems of her omnipresent
necklace displayed upon the white skin of her throat, Melina Shield
looked quite well—past her first prime, certainly, but possessed of a
calm and control that made the prettier younger women look somehow
gauche and coltish.

Having begun, Derian could not back away. He continued
after a pause he hoped was interpretable as awe at realizing who he had chanced upon:

". . . and so I was hoping that your ladyship would deign dance this piece with me."

Melina smiled and he felt the full force of her considerable personality.

"I would be happy to so honor you, young man. Let us hurry. The dance is about to begin."

When Derian would have politely joined at the bottom of the set, Melina led the way toward the nearest set of four.

"Excuse me," she said, breaking in so that they
became the second couple and everyone below must fumble to reorient
themselves with new partners. Derian didn't doubt that a few couples
who had positioned themselves advantageously so that they might flirt
during the interweaving of the figures were rather put out. If Melina
Shield cared, she did not say.

Fortunately for Derian's piece of mind, this dance
was one of those where the couples ended up dancing with their opposite
number in a set as often as with their own partner. Even so, as
progress through the intricate steps brought him once again back into
contact with Lady Melina, it was all he could do to not stare at her
necklace. Could one of those stones really be capable of inflicting
impotence on a man? Could another inflict agony on a brave young woman?

He kept the thoughts as far from his mind as
possible, terrified that Lady Melina might be able to read them.
Glancing down the long line he caught a glimpse of Sapphire
Shield—dressed in a sweeping gown of brilliant blue overlaid with a
light gauze in the golden-yellow of House Gyrfalcon. Without knowing
everything Elise had confided, he might think it merely his imagination
that Sapphire favored her wounded side as her partner wound her under
his arm or walked her through a stately march.

Lady Melina apparently thought Derian's silence
respect for her and concentration on the particularly intricate forms
demanded for this piece. Derian was relieved and rather glad that his
sister, Damita, wasn't there to brag how he had mastered
this one several years before and won the Hummingbird Society–sponsored contest as a result.

When he escorted Lady Melina off the floor, Derian
discovered he was soaked with sweat. After fetching Lady Melina a cup
of punch, he was glad that her bearing made quite clear that he need
not remain. He chatted with Doc for a few minutes, then with his
acquaintances from the first set. The orchestra warming up reminded him
that the dancing was to begin again. He was dropping back to see who
might be left out when he noticed King Tedric beckoning to him.

At first Derian was certain that the king was
summoning someone beyond him, then that the king—recognizing him as
essentially servant—needed an errand run. Hurrying toward the low dais
from which King Tedric was watching the dancing, Derian bent knee
almost before he was there.

"Rise, Derian Carter," came the king's somewhat high
old voice, giving Derian his first shock. Despite having lived among
the court for a moon-span and more now, he had never thought that King
Tedric recalled his name.

"Come and sit beside me and talk for a while. It is
difficult being old and able to dance only a few sets. I had quite as
fine a leg as you when I was your age."

Caught in this second shock, Derian recovered himself before he could bolt in panic.
Him
sit with the king and speak with him? Only the recognition that he
would be guilty of a great insult to the monarch kept him in place.

On legs that suddenly felt as if they had been carved
from wood, Derian mounted the few steps and sat on the chair toward
which the king gestured. He felt as if every eye in the room must be on
him, but when he stole a surreptitious glance toward the floor he saw
that nearly everyone was caught up in the unfolding dance.

Nearly everyone. Lady Melina cast a speculative
glance his way and from the slight grin on Earl Kestrel's face his
patron hadn't missed the situation either.

"So, young Carter, are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, sir . . . I mean, Your Majesty."

"Sir is just fine. I was knighted once, long ago, for deeds I performed. I was terribly thrilled. That was long before I
knew I'd be king one day. Long before poor Marras lost her will to live."

"I know the story of how you won your knighthood," Derian said, momentarily less afraid. "It was in battle."

"Yes, in battle, against these very people with whom
we are now dancing. Tell me, Derian Carter. Should I put one of our
enemies—or former enemies—in the position to rule our people?"

This time all Derian could do was gape. King Tedric waited a moment, then continued:

"You see, I was sitting here, watching the dancing
and thinking on that question. I was wondering what my people would
want me to do. Then I saw you down there, dancing away, and I thought
to myself: 'Young Derian has been living in the castle for a good time
now. He has made friends with some of my potential heirs and has met
others. Most importantly, he is one of my people, scion and heir of a
hardworking trade family. I shall ask his opinion.' So here you are.
Answer me truthfully. I won't harm you."

With effort, Derian made his lips obey his racing
brain. He remembered his conversations with his parents, the gossip he
had heard in the markets and in the square when King Tedric announced
his intention of making this journey. Carefully, he framed his reply:

"Well, sir, they do—I mean lots of the people back in
Eagle's Nest—they think making Duke Allister your heir is just the
thing for you to do. They call him the Pledge Child and have great
hopes for his ascension to the throne bringing peace and goodwill
between our lands."

King Tedric nodded, coughed slightly, accepted the
cup of wine handed to him by his omnipresent guard, and said, "Yes,
Pledge Child, I heard that term back when Allister was first born. I
took reports that it was still in common use with a grain of salt. So
my people dream yet of my father's great vision coming true. I would
hate to disappoint them."

Accepting a goblet for himself without even realizing he was doing so, Derian asked:

"Can you avoid disappointing everyone, sir? There are so many conflicting claims."

"Claims? I wouldn't call them claims. I would call
them ambitions—for themselves or for their children. You still haven't
answered my question, Derian Carter. Should I make Allister Seagleam my
heir?"

"I don't know, sir." Derian met those shrewd old eyes for the first time. "I don't know him."

"Yes. That is the trouble. None of us really know him. He seems an affable enough fellow here and now. Is it an act?"