Through Wolf's Eyes (67 page)

"What both of you say," King Tedric sighed, "holds an
element of truth, but peace—even peace with border raids and armed
tension—kills far fewer men and women than even one pitched battle.
Think carefully before you advise this course."

A slim woman not much older than Derian himself but
wearing a uniform decorated with honors up and down the sleeves, said
into the silence following the king's statement:

"Your Majesty is correct. My fellows should remember
that Waterland and New Kelvin have long supported us—as Stonehold has
Bright Bay—not from love of us or of our way of life but from fear of
what we might become if we were one nation with Bright Bay. Think you.
You see a touch of that fear now directed toward Bright Bay. Do you
think it would fade to nothing if we conquered our old rival and so
became the great country that they have long feared? Neutrality is the
answer to this difficulty. Let Bright Bay pay for her sins—whatever
they are—herself. Perhaps then she will have the humility to leave us
to our lives and the border raids will cease."

There were a good number of muttered agreements at this,
mostly
from the very grizzled veterans—those who knew what a pitched battle
could be—or the very young officers who were beginning to dread the
learning.

"Yet that neutrality means," said Prince Newell, his
voice as clear as a bell, "that we will resign ourselves to forever
being at war. We can do this—we have for over a hundred years since the
end of the Civil War. Yet I find myself thinking of my aunt's son, this
Allister Seagleam who came to us with such touching hopes for peace.
Are we to leave him and his children—two of them just small girls—to
the mercies of Stonehold's army because we fear the future? I say then
that we are not worthy of that future! I say war now for those little
girls. War now for a future of peace! What good are allies who support
us merely to keep us weak? I say defy them and show our strength!"

An unguarded cheer greeted the conclusion of this stirring speech. King Tedric, however, only smiled dryly:

"So, Prince Newell, you believe we should conquer
Bright Bay in order to preserve her against an army that has not yet
declared war. That is an interesting policy. However, it is good to see
how many of you would go to war to protect my nephew's little girls."

After this evaluation, King Tedric fell silent and
all the room fell silent with him in respect of the burden that was his
alone to bear. They might counsel, but the king alone must decide.

When Tedric raised his head from his hands, decision was written in the aged lines on his face.

"War it shall be." He raised his hand to still the
cheering that arose at these words. "Not a war of conquest, a different
war than any you have suggested. We shall start our way to peace with
Bright Bay by offering our support to her in this time of trouble, by
giving our support to those who came here to treat for peace.

"When or if Queen Gustin the Fourth comes, she shall
encounter us not as enemies, but as those who are willing to maintain
her rights against those who would take them. If false allies are to be
unmasked and flouted, then we must be well on the way to making true
ones. Are you with me?"

The cheer that greeted the conclusion of this speech
was pure acclaim, so loud and ready that it made that which had
answered Prince Newell sound like the thready wail of a newborn kitten.
Even as his own voice joined the cry, Derian wondered to find tears on
his face, streaming from eyes he had been certain must be bright with
joy.

M
Y NATION IS ON THE BRINK OF WAR
, Elise thought.
Some
of our troops have crossed the Barren River and stand between our
former enemy and their former friend. Others make a tight cordon along
the banks of the Barren and scouts patrol the farther
reaches lest we miss some hint of invasion while our atten
tion is centered here. My nation is on the brink of war and what do I do? I go shopping for jewelry.

She smiled ruefully, knowing how unjust she was being
to herself. Still, there had never been a time in her life that she so
regretted being unskilled with a bow or sword and being rather
squeamish at the thought of killing another living thing.

Five days had passed since King Tedric made his
decision to support Bright Bay if Stonehold enforced its threat to
answer Queen Gustin's refusal to speak with their representatives with
arms. The necessity had become rapidly apparent, for Queen Gustin's
refusal to meet with Stonehold had come a mere two days after
Stonehold's initial demand had been made.

Gustin's letter (a copy of which had been sent to
King Tedric) simply refused to permit an outside power—no matter how
friendly—to give her orders. Her response had been blunt, leaving no
room for misinterpretation. Forced to either declare war or have their
threats called as a bluff, Stonehold had attacked.

They had been rebuffed for two reasons. One, Good
Crossing's walls had held—though they would not hold against another
such press. Two, King Tedric had his troops ready to march. As the
first volley of arrows had been fired, Bridgeton had opened her broad
span to permit Hawk Haven to come to aid Bright Bay.

Stonehold's relatively small army—for Yuci and
Grimsel only had those troops which had been withdrawn from Bright
Bay's own army—had been unable to take a walled city while being
attacked on their flank by a second, stronger force. Still, they had
done considerable damage. Good Crossing's walls were no longer
unbreached, forcing Duke Allister to bring his troops out into the
fields surrounding the city.

A large, relatively open area to the south and west
of Good Crossing had become the acknowledged battleground. Stone-hold
had pulled back to the southern edge while the combined forces of Hawk
Haven and Bright Bay held the area outside of Good Crossing and along
the Barren River.

Elise's own role in all of this martial activity had
been comparatively insignificant. While others dashed hither and
yon—important in armor, freshened blazons on their shields—she wound
bandages or blended ointments and tinctures for the infirmary with
inexpert hands.

Baron Archer had hinted that Elise might do well to
return to Eagle's Nest, where she would be safe if Stonehold managed to
cross the Barren. Elise had pretended not to understand those hints and
her father had let the matter drop. Doubtless he had come to realize
how unjust he had been in hotheadedly branding his daughter a traitor,
but he could not press her to leave this sensitive area without risking
that she raise the matter once more.

At least the commanders of Bright Bay's troops had
been wise enough to accept the help offered by Hawk Haven. Allister
Seagleam had taken advantage of his place as senior noble present to
become effectively commander in chief of the Bright Bay forces. His
first command had been that his officers work with those of Hawk Haven.
Yet, despite Duke
Allister's efforts to smooth things over, tempers were short and trust shorter still.

Duke Allister's task might have been easier if Lord
Tench, the queen's advisor, had remained, but he had departed on a fast
horse to advise Queen Gustin as to the situation. It was still
uncertain whether Gustin IV would come to Good Crossing at all. On that
matter, the rumor mill was most vocal and most contradictory.

Some said the queen was on her way from Silver Whale
Cove, armed and armored and leading a host of noble knights, fronting a
band of blooded marines. This was a favorite among Bright Bay's
troops—never mind that Bright Bay's nobility was more comfortable on
the command deck of a ship than on horseback and that those marines
would be scattered among dozens of ships.

Or the queen was waiting in her castle in the
capital, afraid for her life. She would deal with the situation once
others had risked life and limb. This was the favorite of the more
cynical elements of Hawk Haven's forces.

Or yet, the queen was coming in disguise and on a
fast horse, ready to negotiate terms that would keep her nation
independent now that Stonehold had actually used its teeth. This was
the favorite of those on both sides who had actually thought about the
text of Stonehold's demands.

Or the queen had fled to safety in the Isles. The
queen was already present but keeping her exact whereabouts secret. The
queen was dead or ill or pregnant. The queen didn't matter—what
mattered was force of arms upon this one field.

That last was what Elise herself dreaded would prove
true. The situation seemed to have progressed beyond what rational
words and negotiation could achieve. Armor had been polished, swords
sharpened, arrows newly fletched. The only seemingly impossible thing
in all this chaotic and unpredictable situation was that these would be
returned to armory, sheath, and quiver unblooded and unstained.

Her thoughts running thus, Elise needed Ninette's tap
on her sleeve to alert her when they had reached Wain Cutter's shop.
Over the past several days, Elise had grown quite comfortable with
Wain. Whereas on their first visit she had hardly
noticed
him as a person, now she found the thoughtful calmness of his hound-dog
features comfortable in the midst of confusion and the way he rubbed
his bald pate when working his way through a problem rather endearing.

Wain had set to work on their second commission as
soon as they had given it to him. His first step had been locating gems
of a size and color to match those in Zorana's necklace. He had been
lucky with the sapphire and the ruby, but a citrine of the deep cognac
shade favored by Lady Melina had been difficult to find, and he had
been forced to cut the gem himself. The opal had been gained after
negotiations with a rival across the river and then cut down to match
the others. The jet he had also cut himself—though from a different
piece than that which had supplied Elise's new betrothal pendant.

Although Derian had accompanied Elise that first
morning to explain the new commission to Wain Cutter, the developing
military situation had given him no time to join her since. If he was
not in some meeting, he was making Fire-keeper buckle on her armor or
acting as reserve farrier for Earl Kestrel's command.

Firekeeper was busy as well. Elise rather suspected
the king had given the wolf-woman some task or other, for she often
vanished for entire half-days. One of the tasks Fire-keeper was almost
certainly performing was scouting, and Elise doubted that Firekeeper
remained on Hawk Haven's side of the river or that all the reports she
delivered were restricted to the ostensible enemy's readiness.

Yet it was Firekeeper who made certain to check with
Elise several times a day and Firekeeper who had not forgotten in the
new turmoil that within their own camp, a few long paces away from the
pavilion in which Elise herself slept, was one who might be more
dangerous than any army.

Now Elise bent her head over the finished necklace
that Wain Cutter proudly spread out upon a piece of white velvet for
her inspection.

"I finished it early this morning," he said, "rose before the dawn. Couldn't get it off my mind, dreamed of it even. I got
the feeling that it wanted to be made and that I shouldn't be holding it up."

Elise nodded comprehension, though she didn't really understand such obsession.

"It's lovely," she said honestly, admiring the gentle
curve of silver with the five diamond-shaped pendants hanging down,
"but the silver looks just the slightest bit scratched."

"Patina," Wain explained hastily, rubbing his pate in
quick circles as if polishing the baldness. "That's what that's called.
It makes a piece of jewelry look not so new. Soft metals like silver
and gold often acquire a patina after they've been worn for a time."

He colored and Elise knew why. If you were asked to
duplicate a famous—even notorious—piece of jewelry by people who swore
you into secrecy, it wasn't a great jump for even a slow mind to guess
that maybe a substitution was planned. And Wain Cutter was not a slow
man at all. He hurried on, talking fast as if to cover an awkward pause
in the conversation that hadn't yet occurred.

"Of course, if you're wanting it looking bright and new, I can shine it up and buff out the patina."

Elise smiled at him. "No, the patina is perfect.
You're right. It gives the piece the look of an old family heirloom
rather than something commissioned by that market woman who discovered
she was the only heir to a duke."

There was a popular comic song about that very
situation. For generations tavern drunks and small children alike had
enjoyed reeling off the long list of the things the market woman had
ordered when she had discovered that she was to be a "duchess fine."

The words of one verse rose unbidden from Elise's memory and she had to resist the urge to hum along with the jaunty tune:

A sweeping gown of fine brocade,
A long-maned, elegant pacing jade,
An ivory board on which games were played,
For these all in future coin she paid,
That soon to be duchess fine!

But resist Elise did, for Wain was unhooking the sapphire pendant and showing her its catch.

"Getting these right was the biggest trick," he was
saying, "for you told me that each pendant needed to be removable with
some ease, yet remain firm set the rest of the time. I appreciated
those sketches you made for me."

Elise nodded acknowledgment. It hadn't been at all
easy to see how the pendants were held in place and had meant spending
far more time in Lady Melina's company than she had desired.
Fortunately, Lady Melina, like everyone else, was eager to demonstrate
her support of King Tedric's war and had spent many hours in the
infirmary.

There Elise's persistence had been rewarded. She had
contrived to tangle into Lady Melina's necklace a stray end of linen
thread from the bandage strips she was cutting, snagging both the opal
and ruby pendants. Greatly annoyed, Lady Melina had rebuked her
sharply, then permitted her to untangle the mess to make amends.