Through Wolf's Eyes (80 page)

"Oh, you have . . ."

"I could hardly say more when Your Majesty and I had not yet spoken in private."

So there!
he thought with what he knew was childish vin-dictiveness.
Ah, well. Her neglecting to give me a private meeting was equally childish
.

Still, he was privately embarrassed. He was a grown man of forty-four, not a child.

Queen Gustin had not seemed to hear the reproof in
his retort. "We had not, had we? And if I do not agree to make you my
heir? What will Hawk Haven do then?"

"I couldn't say."

"But that doesn't mean you don't know . . . and their troops already on our soil and the local people lauding them as saviors."

Allister replied sternly, "Hawk Haven deserves such
praise. Their army fought and many died in defense of Good Crossing. We
could not have held the city without them. The Battle of the Banks
would have been our disgrace, not the first action in a victorious war."

"Perhaps," Gustin said hotly, "they merely fought to keep Stonehold from crossing at Bridgeton and threatening their own lands."

"Don't be an idiot," Allister retorted sharply.
"Stonehold was already stretched to the limits of their supply line. If
anything Hawk Haven stood to benefit economically by Stonehold's
conquest of Good Crossing."

Queen Gustin's cheeks had flared hot and red at the
sharpness of Duke Allister's words, but his fame as the hero of the
recent war protected him. She could have him neither executed nor
arrested without bringing the rage of the local populace down upon her.

Allister, who had regretted his lack of tact as soon as the words slipped out, saw the red fade from the queen's cheeks
to be replaced by an ivory white pallor that was no less furious.

"Economically?" she replied, the word coming out as a cough. "I suppose you mean by supplying Stonehold's army."

"I do," Allister said, watching her guardedly. Queen
Gustin seemed to be under control now, so he went on pedantically,
giving her more time to cool. "The raiders who burned Stonehold's
supplies performed an act that was as decisive an element in General
Yuci's decision to surrender as anything done on the battlefield. All
of them, by the way, were residents of Hawk Haven."

"Including among their numbers," Queen Gustin said,
cooler now, but needing to vent her fury, "a carter, a manservant, and
a criminal, if I read the report correctly."

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," Allister
replied, deciding not to protest too strongly. "Earl Kestrel permitted
several members of his personal entourage to take part in the battle."

"Kestrel . . ." Gustin murmured as if trying to place
the name, though Allister did not doubt she knew precisely of whom they
spoke.

"Kestrel," Allister repeated dryly. "The man who led
the left wing of the cavalry charge and fought bravely despite ribs
broken when a horse fell on him."

"I remember him now," Queen Gustin said. "Norvin
Norwood. He's also the man who brought back some foundling and tried to
claim she was King Tedric's granddaughter, right?"

"Yes. There is some evidence in favor of his claim. I've met the young woman. She's quite remarkable."

"Rumor said she's nearly dead from injuries taken when she assaulted Prince Newell Shield."

"At last report," Allister replied, a trifle more
sharply than he had intended, "Lady Blysse is expected to live, though
she will be convalescing for some time. Prince Newell, as you may have
heard, was attempting to assassinate King Tedric. From what one of the
late prince's servants confessed, Newell had planned to have himself
declared king."

And I don't suppose we'll ever know just how much
you knew of his plans or whether you would have supported them. Oh,
Valora, I wish I could trust you!

"We can't treat with Stonehold from a position of
strength," the queen mused aloud, "without the support of Hawk Haven.
Now you tell me—or at least imply—that Hawk Haven's continued support
is contingent upon my naming you my heir. Tell me, why shouldn't I make
my treaty with Stonehold, get them gone, and then dismiss Hawk Haven?"

"Well, Your Majesty, they might be difficult to dismiss."

"True. And they might even ally themselves with Stone-hold and complete the conquest. Our army could not withstand them both."

Allister nodded. "I do not like to dwell on the idea,
but the possibility has occurred to me. Still, I believe that King
Tedric would prefer to ally himself with us with eventual reunification
in mind. We share a common heritage—common ancestors—so to speak."

"Yet he could be a conqueror with half our lands as
his booty," Queen Gustin said, "far more quickly than if we travel the
route you suggest."

Allister Seagleam shrugged. "True. However, conquered
lands might be hard to hold. Once secure with part of Bright Bay,
Stonehold might decide she wants the whole. We have the ocean ports
their own land lacks."

Queen Gustin laughed bitterly. "Stonehold might want
the whole, just as Hawk Haven has decided she wants the whole. Yes, I
can see how King Tedric might take warning from his own example. Tell
me, Allister, why shouldn't I just prolong negotiations until King
Tedric dies? His new heir might prove more tractable."

"Or he or she might not," Allister countered,
fascinated despite himself with this weird byplay. He could feel Gustin
hating him for the position in which he had put her, yet she persisted
in asking for his advice. "And King Tedric, while possessed of a weak
heart, is not in any immediate danger. Some have suggested that the
stimulation of this journey has actually strengthened him."

"Delightful . . ." Gustin IV sank her polished white
teeth into her little finger, as if pain was the only distraction that
would keep her from screaming. "So my only choice is to make you my
heir."

"I never said that, Your Majesty," Allister replied
firmly, "only that I thought that solution provided the best way to
secure an alliance with Hawk Haven that will prove for our mutual
benefit."

Queen Gustin fell silent for a moment, then looked
across at him, her face eerily expressionless, a portrait cast in
clean, white porcelain.

"You may leave, Duke Allister," she said with cool
formality. "Thank you for your services. Send my commander of marines
up to me as you are leaving."

Allister did as ordered, wondering what thoughts had lain behind that lovely mask and dreading that he must soon learn.

D
ERIAN SAT AT FIREKEEPER'S BEDSIDE
occupying the restless patient by drilling her in the
alphabet—alternating these lessons with basic heraldry when she grew
frustrated.

Annoying as the wolf-woman's impatience could be,
Derian took it as a good sign that she had energy enough to get angry.
For two days following her struggle with Prince Newell, Firekeeper had
lain still and silent, hardly responding to any stimulus, no matter who
her caller or what news she was told.

A few things had sparked her interest: praise from
Earl Kestrel, who had knelt by her bedside holding her hand, tears
actually running down his cheeks into his neat black and white beard;
learning that Rook had been taken and had confessed—in return for a
promise of imprisonment rather than execution—the extent of Prince
Newell's plotting; the story
of Derian's own adventures, told with great enthusiasm by Race Forester.

But for most of those two long days she had simply
lain still, neither restfully sleeping nor truly awake, suffering with
every breath. Derian or Elise or Doc had kept vigil by her cot, wiping
the bloody spume off her lips, moistening her throat with dribble of
water, and talking to her when it seemed she might actually hear.

On the third day, Firekeeper had begun to recover,
reacting with small signs of pleasure when Doc had ordered her cot
moved out into the warm autumn sunshine. Today—the fourth day since the
end of the decisive battle of Allister's War—she was sitting propped
against carefully positioned pillows and fretting because Doc would not
let her get up— and because Blind Seer and Elation had nominated
themselves enforcers of the physician's orders.

Doubtless Doc's healing talent had been instrumental
in assisting Firekeeper's recovery, but he had refused to take full
credit. Indeed, he had confided to Derian that without her own
indomitable desire to live, Firekeeper—like so many of those wounded on
the battlefield—would have died.

Derian had taken his turn digging graves for the dead
of both sides. The continuing warmth of early autumn would not permit
the bodies to be carried home to their families, but still the dead's
spirits must be properly honored. Sitting by Firekeeper as she had
slept, Derian had lettered temporary gravestones—wooden plaques that
would be set in place until the stonecutters could finish the permanent
headstones.

As he worked, Derian was inexorably reminded of those
anonymous graves west of the gap. Now he knew two more of the names
that should be there: Sarena Gardener and Donal Hunter. Silently, he
vowed that he'd learn the other names and return someday to set a
permanent gravestone in that burned glade.

"Scarlet beside forest green blazed with . . ."
Derian was prompting Firekeeper when footsteps crunching up the path
announced callers.

Elation squawked and Firekeeper said:

"Sapphire Shield and Shad Oyster." A wicked twinkle lit
her dark eyes. "Elation say they were holding hands when they were farther, but have let go now."

Derian wagged a finger at the peregrine falcon. "You're a worse gossip than any market-wife."

The falcon, who continued to follow Derian about his
errands until Derian couldn't decide whether he felt honored or
pestered, screeched at him and Firekeeper chuckled, stopping abruptly
as if the intake of air still hurt her damaged lung.

"We can't precisely knock," Sapphire called, halting
a short distance away, "but Elise said that Firekeeper was entertaining
callers."

"As long as she stays in bed," Derian said, rising and bowing. "Would you like me to withdraw?"

"Not for my sake," said Shad in a pleasant light
baritone. "I've wanted to meet you. That was a brave deed you did,
Derian Carter."

He offered his hand as if he were not a duke's son, but just another man. Derian accepted the handclasp.

"The real credit should go to the scouts," Derian
said firmly. "They fought the enemy. I shot a few arrows and freed a
few horses."

"Not having killed doesn't alter the courage you
showed in going behind the lines," Shad insisted, and Sapphire nodded
agreement. "And given that the diversion caused by the fire probably
saved my father's life I am particularly grateful."

"Thank you," Derian replied, dismissing the topic of his own heroism by turning to Firekeeper. "Have you met Lady Blysse?"

"At the ball," Shad said, "I believe I had the pleasure of a dance."

"No dancing now," Firekeeper commented sadly, "not yet. Your father is well?"

"If having Queen Gustin the Fourth furious with you can be taken as well," Shad said proudly, "yes, he is."

"And you," Firekeeper said to Sapphire, "I was told your father died. I am sorry."

"Me, too," Sapphire admitted. "I miss him more than I
had
thought possible. Mother has already departed for home with Opal. The
dual blows of losing her husband and having her brother proven traitor
were too much for her. She said she will retreat to our country estate
for a time."

"Good!" Firekeeper replied with such firmness that
Shad looked puzzled, but his manners were too good—or perhaps he also
had heard rumors about Lady Melina—for him to ask. "What does Jet do?"

"Jet is a problem," Sapphire sighed. "He conducted
himself well enough in the battle. Elise, however, has petitioned her
father for permission to break the engagement. Baron Archer has asked
Elise to wait until the current negotiations are ended and she
agreed—but only after insisting that the king be told informally that
the alliance is ended. So now Jet is questing around, looking for
someone or something to which he could attach himself. I really don't
know what to do with him."

Shad laughed. "In my country we'd send him to sea on
a 'prentice cruise. It's amazing how quickly ambitious young
aristocrats learn just how little they matter when pitted against a
hurricane."

"That's not a bad idea," Sapphire reflected. "There's good in Jet, but he's been too influenced by Mother."

She brushed her fingers along the snow white mark on
her forehead as she said this, a tacit admission to those who knew her
history that Jet was not the only one who must overcome Melina Shield's
influence.

"And peace?" Firekeeper said. "Is peace found?"

"The talks continue," Sapphire replied, "but in great secrecy. King Tedric has not even called in his counselors."

Derian demurred. "That's not quite correct. He calls
us together every afternoon and again every evening. However, I agree
wholeheartedly with his decision not to take a huge entourage with him
to these meetings. Forgive me, noble friends, but I have never heard
anything like dukes and duchesses, earls and . . ."