Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart (68 page)

Grateful Peace forced himself to be courteous to Lady Melina even though in reality her very proximity made his blood crawl. Claiming a touch of snow-blindness, he had taken to wearing tinted glasses even when indoors. The sensation of dwelling in ever-present twilight was a fair price to pay for the assurance that Lady Melina would experience some difficulty if she tried locking her gaze with his.

Moreover, the glasses made it easier for Peace to do the watching which was his primary role in Apheros's power system. Behind the tinted glass, his gaze might be resting anywhere, creating the impression that he was always watching. Honestly, he was a bit sorry that he hadn't thought of the idea before.

"I recall a tale," said old Columi, the round-bodied, round-headed emeritus of the Sodality of Lapidaries, " 'twas but a child's tale, but it 'twas about a comb and may have some bearing on this matter."

Urged on by the other members of the team, Columi went on:

"It was about a princess," he said, "or some such royal lady. She was in flight from enemies. I don't recall quite how it came about, but she had been forced to flee with little but what she had on her person. One of these things was a comb."

"A magical comb?" asked one of the listeners eagerly.

"The story doesn't precisely say," Columi admitted, "but it must have been one, for when the princess's pursuers—I'm fairly sure it was a princess, but it might have been a queen—drew close, she took the comb from her pocket and flung it down behind her steed. From where the comb fell, a mighty forest all of oaks, each growing as close to the other as the teeth had been on the comb, sprang into existence."

Peace watched with a trace of amusement as a half-dozen sets of eyes—Lady Melina's included—looked with a certain degree of respect upon the comb that rested on the center of the council table.

"And?" prompted Nelm of the Herbalists. "And what happened next?"

Columi looked at him in astonishment.

"Why the queen—or princess—escaped, at least for a time. She had to work other tricks before she got completely clear of the bad lot who were after her."

"And the forest—the oak forest out of the comb," asked sweet-faced Kalvinia of the Sericulturalists, "did the forest remain thereafter?"

Columi frowned. "Don't recall. Don't think the tale says. Do you think it matters?"

"It might," Kalvinia replied, twirling around her fingers a braid of hair as light and as delicate as her own silk, "if the comb's powers can only work once. It would prove difficult if we suddenly had a forest burst into being in the middle of this tower room."

"Now, I don't precisely see…" Nelm was beginning, when there came a knock on the door.

They were holding their conference in a room on the second level of the Granite Tower. It was a large room, roughly half the breadth of the tower itself. Naturally it was rounded except for a single long, straight wall. The door to the central corridor was in this wall, and even as Nelm rose to answer the knock, the door was opened from without.

Young Kistlio, the former Illuminator and Peace's own sometime assistant, stood without. In the days that had passed since his own awareness of Lady Melina's powers had solidified, Peace had singled out Kistlio as one of those most completely under the foreign woman's power.

Where once he had been cool and aloof to her as was proper and correct, Kistlio now fawned. Peace did not know whether this meant that his nephew's mind or will or whatever it was that Lady Melina affected with her spells was weaker than the norm, or whether the woman had employed greater force in his enchantment.

A few others had commented on Kistlio's evident devotion to his new mistress. Many thought that this was precisely because she
was
the youth's mistress—in a far more carnal sense than was formally meant by the term.

Peace, however, had spent enough time spying on Lady Melina to feel fairly certain that whatever she did to assure Kistlio's excellent service, sexual favors were not included.

Indeed, she seemed as chaste as a winter snowbank—a thing that had disappointed the thaumaturge, for he had hoped to use her sexual activities to create resentment and anger between those she favored, and even between those she did not.

Kistlio burst into the room with a physical energy that reminded Grateful Peace just how young he was. The sleeves of his blue-black robe fluttered with the wind of his passage. His face, painted in a routine white on black geometric pattern assumed when on errands and the like, showed a slight smudging along one cheek, as if Kistlio had forgotten to school his hands.

This shocked Peace. Learning to never touch one's face in a fashion that might damage the paint was one of the earliest lessons any civilized person was taught. Even in rural areas where semipermanent stains were more common than the elaborate paints used by those who followed more intellectual pursuits, the mannerisms persisted and, indeed, were considered the first mark of good breeding.

Of course, he could have been jostled in a crowd
, Peace thought, trying to comfort himself. He was fond of Kistlio. The boy had potential. That Lady Melina might ruin him…

Unbidden the image rose to mind of two small severed fingers, peach-colored crescents reduced to stinking ash.

"Lady Melina," cried Kistlio, all but flinging himself at her feet, "I bring you great news!"

Lady Melina, who had not spoken through all the long discussion except when a word was needed to turn away some bit of bickering, now turned to the boy.

"Stand straight," she said a trace severely, then softening added, "Now, what news is it you have for me?"

"Some of your countrymen have come to Dragon's Breath," Kistlio said proudly. "One at least is a sorcerer—though I am sure not of as great power as yourself. This one is a healer and all the city is singing his praises, for at a touch bones knit of themselves and wounds cease to bleed."

Lady Melina looked less than delighted at this news, but Kistlio did not seem to notice. Indeed, Peace noted that although there were several people of rank and merit in the chamber—himself included—Kistlio spoke as if no one were present except for Lady Melina.

"I heard of these strangers in the marketplace," the boy continued, "and went to look upon them. Other than the healer, there seems to be one other with power. She is a young woman, hardly more than a girl, and from what those living nearby told me she commands fearsome, beasts—even as legend says those with the power of beast lore once did."

Although Peace kept his head angled as if watching only the boy, his gaze was on Lady Melina's face. The red stain she wore after the custom of New Kelvin kept him from reading her complexion, but he could have sworn that she shook—though whether in fury or in fear he could not be sure.

"And why do you tell me this?" Lady Melina asked, her voice unnaturally calm. "Surely there have been those from my country come here before."

Kistlio faltered, as if for the first time realizing that his news might be less than welcome.

And so he might have had the sense to consider
, Peace thought bitterly,
had you not taken his will, Lady Melina. But when you steal will and mind, you steal sense as well
. I "I thought," the boy floundered, then continued more steadily, "I thought that the great lady might have use for those who, like her, practice the ways of foreign magic. I thought she might harness their powers to hers and make them serve her for her greater glory and for the glory of our land."

Lady Melina regained her composure during this brave little speech. Reaching out, she patted Kistlio on one shoulder.

"You have confused mere talent with art," she said gently. "These who you have seen possess something that is not common in my land but is not unheard of either. These talents are born into a person as might be eye color or perfect pitch or some other natural thing. Although talents have the semblance of sorcery, they are no more sorcerous than is the perfectly repeated song of a nightingale.

"Have you forgotten," Lady Melina asked, her tone taking on just a hint of reprimand, "that the study of sorcery is forbidden in Hawk Haven? I myself have been the solitary scholar of what is seen there as a horrid and dreadful art. So, my boy, I thank you for these tidings, but I do not believe I can turn these visitors to our use."

Kistlio gave Lady Melina a deep bow, one that signified not only acknowledgment of her words but his heartfelt relief at being forgiven.

He began to back away, anticipating dismissal. Lady Melina signified that she would have him wait.

"Tell me," she said, her tones as soft yet as binding as a silken cord, "tell me, did you learn the names of these strangers? Since they are from Hawk Haven, they may be known to me."

"Sir Jared Surcliffe is the healer," Kistlio replied, a trace of his earlier pleasure in bearing her news making his lips stumble over the unfamiliar syllables. "The one with the gift for beast lore…"

"No lore," corrected Lady Melina gently, "merely an affinity. Indeed, if I know the one of whom you speak, she is nearly a beast herself, poor, mad child."

"This mad woman," Kistlio continued obediently, "is called the Firekeeper."

"So I guessed," Lady Melina hissed. "I have met her before. Do these two have comrades?"

"Several," Kistlio confirmed. He looked a trace unhappy. "Though I did not get their names, gracious lady."

"I may be able to guess," Lady Melina said, "but I would be pleased if you learn them for me. Do not say for whom you ask—simply ask."

"That should be easy, Lady Melina," the boy said. "All their neighbors delight in speaking of them. They say having foreigners on their street is the best amusement winter can offer. One never knows what strange thing they will do next."

Lady Melina frowned at this. Doubtless she could not forget that she, too, was a foreigner, for all her mimicking of civilized ways. Perhaps she wondered what entertainment she might provide for an idle moment's gossip.

"Learn the foreigners' names," she commanded. "Now leave us. Our small business has interrupted my distinguished hosts and colleagues long enough."

For the first time, Kistlio seemed to see those assembled—all of them of sufficient importance to merit his deepest respect at other times. He swept them collectively a deep bow, granted Lady Melina yet another obeisance, and left.

Although the door into the corridor was thick, Peace imagined he could hear the boy's booted feet running down the corridor. Doubtless he was heading outside once more, never mind the cold and the gathering dusk.

"I humbly apologize," Lady Melina said, displaying a convincing facsimile of just those emotions. "Shall we continue?"

As if they were puppets on a stage set, the team members picked up their discussion nearly where it had left off.

"As I was saying," Nelm said, "I don't precisely see how this tale Columi just told us relates to our specific problem. Does he wish us to throw down the comb? What words should we say? Must we be pursued by enemies to make the magic work? Would it only work for a woman?"

Kalvinia immediately began to reply but Peace did not bother to listen. He could not escape the feeling that something important had just passed.

You knew who those people were, Lady Melina
, he thought.

But whether what you felt at hearing of their coming was fear or anger, I cannot be sure. Still, I am certain of one thing: either you fear them or you hate them
—
maybe both. Either
I
way, that makes them people I need to know
.

He considered.. His fellow in the Dragon's Three—one Xarxius, formerly of the Stargazers—had been head of the expedition sent as observers to the war to the south that Hawk Haven and Bright Bay now called King Allister's War—as if one man deserved either the credit or the blame! Stonehold more reasonably refused to even name it a war, calling it simply the Battle of the Barren River.

Now that Peace thought on the matter, Xarxius had made himself very scarce of Lady Melina's company. Peace had hardly considered that this might be deliberate. Winter was a busy time for trade in heavy items like glass, which could be moved more easily over snow-packed roads. As a specialist in foreigners, Xarxius was always very busy in winter.

Maybe Xarxius had
meant
to avoid Lady Melina. Peace would seek him out as soon as this meeting was over.

For now, he settled back in his chair and with patience born of long practice turned his full attention to the raging debate on the magical merits of a comb.

G
rateful Peace invited Xarxius to dine with him that same evening. Surprisingly, Xarxius was not already committed, and he agreed to come by Peace's chambers when his business was completed.

Each of the Dragon's Three had been given one of the spire-topped towers within Thendulla Lypella for his own use. As he had come into Apheros's service many years before, when Apheros had been elected the Dragon Speaker, Peace had ample opportunity to discover any secret places or spy galleries.

He had found some, but there were none in the rounded tower room to which he took Xarxius. It was a room that in the winter he used most commonly by day, for its great beauty was in the floor-to-ceiling windows—each a full nine feet in height—that graced the circular room at regular intervals.

After dark the windows—even when heavily curtained—made the room rather chilly. However, Peace ordered his servants to stoke up the stove that squatted in the center of room. The stove, unlike the windows, was of modern manufacture. Either the Founders had not used this room after dark in the cold seasons or they had possessed some magical means for heating.

The smiths, however, had melded function and artistry, casting the stove in the shape of some amphibious beast from legend and enameling the metal in shining white and green. The fire was fed through the creature's wide, frog-like mouth, and glass spheres set in its bulging eye sockets shone with internal light.

Although Peace was fond of the stove—it had been among the first things he had commissioned for his own use—this was not why he chose to meet Xarxius here. The existence of the windows made it obvious that the walls contained no spy holes. The heavy curtains that were usually drawn across the windows were open now, making quite plain that no one hid behind them. In all ways, the room proclaimed itself secure.