The Dragon of Despair (13 page)

Firekeeper leaned forward, her posture imitating the pricked-eared interest of the wolves.

“And what did you learn?”

“We saw no lightning drawn from the skies,” Wind Whisper replied, “but we saw evidence of strong talents. There was one among them who could influence the growth of plants, another who understood those of other bloods so well that almost could he speak to us. There was one who could tell what the weather would be with near impossible precision and one who could not become lost, no matter how far from her den she wandered.

“These,” Wind Whisper said, “were the talents we observed. There may have been others. The blood speaker gave us to understand that their leader had gathered to himself those with talents in order that those talents could help his outlier pack to survive.”

Humans might have broken into one of their babbling debates at this point, but the wolves were a hierarchical folk and so all eyes now turned to the Ones, mutely requesting confirmation of this outlandish tale.

“’Tis true,” the One Male said, “as much as I was ever told. This was long ago, though, before either of us were born, and so we cannot confirm from our own knowledge.”

Firekeeper stirred.

“What Wind Whisper says,” she offered hesitantly, “mates with something I once heard a human who had kin among that group say. It seems reasonable that had there been humans with great powers, Prince Barden would have gathered them to him. If this is so, he was a rebel against more than his father’s will.”

Northwest clearly thought such discussion of long-dead people a waste of time.

“But there was no clear evidence that these humans had great powers?” he pressed Wind Whisper.

“No clear evidence,” she said.

“And they dwelt here for the turnings of several season cycles,” Northwest went on.

“True.”

“So surely you would have seen great powers if they possessed them.”

Wind Whisper curled her lip at him.

“Puppy wise to say that what you have not seen must not be.”

Northwest snarled and there might have been a scrap between the two visitors, but the One Female intervened.

“Be still,” she commanded and stillness there was. “Wind Whisper has told us all she knows. The humans were permitted to live here so that we could watch them and learn. It is not for any of us to attack her for the wisdom of a decision that was not hers to make.”

Firekeeper nodded, and since the question had been hers, it was her place to offer thanks.

“I have heard enough,” she said, “and I thank Wind Whisper for offering her wisdom.”

Wind Whisper swung her tail in acknowledgment, but her hackles didn’t quite smooth when she looked over at Northwest.

Firekeeper dismissed their dispute, relaxed in the knowledge that such things were for the Ones to deal with. Instead she let herself consider what she had learned.

Had Prince Barden known that his colonists lived in the western lands on suffrage? Had he suspected why? Most humans might have forgotten that the Royal Beasts even existed, but the more she learned of this long-dead prince the more she respected him.

Derian had once told her that Prince Barden was more like his father than either of his siblings had been. Would King Tedric have mounted such an expedition without learning everything he could about the lands in which he planned to go? Firekeeper thought not.

She recalled the old tales that Lord Aksel Trueheart had drawn out of musty tomes in the libraries of Eagle’s Nest Castle and elsewhere—tales that told of long-ago conflicts and hinted at the existence of the Royal Beasts. Until her coming with Blind Seer and Elation, these had been dismissed as bragging exaggerations as were the right of every storyteller. Then she and her companions had come, and such old tales were beginning to be reconsidered as fact.

What if Barden had taken those tales for fact? Might he have taken care that his people hide any great powers they had among them—if indeed they had possessed such? Humans lied far more easily than did wolves, though she was learning that wolves, too, could lie—especially by not telling the full tale.

Could Wind Whisper herself be believed? Had the Royal Beasts seen some evidence of great powers among Barden’s people? And if they had, would that evidence have been reason enough to execute the humans? Had the fire that came that fatal night been an accident or, perhaps, had it been set?

V

DERIAN DIDN’T PLAN TO
turn around immediately after his arrival in Bardenville. The journey west had taken the better part of a moonspan and he and the animals certainly deserved a rest. Moreover, Firekeeper wouldn’t want to visit with her pack for only a few days and then leave again. Indeed, Derian had wondered if she would return with him at all. Perhaps she would prefer to escort him into safer areas east of the mountains and then return to summer with her family.

Now Derian was glad that he hadn’t given any of those at home any reason to expect him before several moonspans had passed. He knew that he must report what he had found here to King Tedric, and he hoped to have full and accurate details. Moreover, Derian wanted to be very careful not to give Ewen Brooks any reason to worry that Derian was a potential enemy of their venture. A quick departure might make Ewen worry about what Derian would say when he got home. Better to stay and make some friends among the settlers. It might make them less likely to decide to detain him forcibly—or worse.

Derian had no illusions that Firekeeper’s influence made him immune to harm. Indeed, his friendship with her might add to his danger. The settlers clearly viewed all the large carnivores in the area as their rivals for local game, and were ready and eager to exterminate them. Already a magnificent puma pelt was drying on the side of a shed, and a bear hide was spread before Ewen’s fire. Derian had stared at its empty eye sockets his first night in the cabin, wondering if it might have been someone Firekeeper knew.

The wolf-woman played a more dangerous game than she knew where the colonists were concerned. Not a day passed that she didn’t visit the settlement, but not a night passed that she didn’t leave to be with the wolves. Moreover, as had been the case with Race Forester a year before, her incredible skills as a hunter and tracker made some of the young bucks in Ewen’s group quite resent her. Every deer or brace of rabbits she brought to augment the supper kettle made them resent her more.

Indeed, the fact that the deerskin was rarely wounded with more than a single arrow shot—adding to the value of the gift while silently flaunting Firekeeper’s skill—did not add to the wolf-woman’s popularity with those who had, before her coming, fancied themselves the lords of the forest.

And it doesn’t help,
Derian thought ruefully,
that Ewen is forcing these same young men to put their hands to the plow and saw rather than encouraging them to roam the forest as he did when they first arrived, when the need for food and a knowledge of the territory was more important than such work. My arriving here when I did with extra mules to help with the plowing and hauling has made Ewen all the more eager to get crops in, stumps pulled, wood hauled, and all manner of exhausting menial tasks done before I—and my livestock—take our leave.

Derian had already resolved that he’d be wise to make a gift of at least one of the mules to the colony. The horses, even lovely Roanne, were safe enough. Their more delicate constitutions made them less attractive than the hardy mules, but he was coming to wonder if he would get away with either of the mules. Ewen’s initial covetousness had become nearly proprietorial.

Oh, well,
Derian thought,
if I must, I’ll leave the mules here and have Father take the cost out of my earnings. Maybe I can get Earl Kestrel to advance me some of my commission for the beasts I’m purchasing for his stable.

If both Derian and Firekeeper were less than popular with the young men of the colony, both of them had made friends with other members. Dawn Brooks appreciated Firekeeper’s help in finding bees to populate her much coveted hives. When the wolf-woman brought Dawn a double handful of quail eggs, suggesting that Dawn incubate them under her hens, Dawn had been delighted. Much of her domestic poultry had fallen prey to foxes and weasels, and this opportunity to augment her flock had been a matter for rejoicing.

Only to Derian did Firekeeper confess that at least some of the poultry had fallen prey to resentful wolves and he suspected that the quail eggs were the wolf-woman’s unspoken restitution.

Derian’s willingness to plow, chop wood, and otherwise make himself useful had won him friends among the older colonists—many of whom he came to know during the late-afternoon wall-building sessions, where the logs that had been hauled and trimmed during the day were added to the palisade surrounding the settlement.

Never mind that about half the settlers were still sleeping in tents. Ewen had decided that a solid wall would serve them all far better than cabins. Derian, knowing far better than Ewen what lived in the forest, had to agree.

Although many of the settlers were quite young—even leaving out the children, the majority were rarely into their third decade—Ewen had recruited some older couples. These were usually masters of those skills the colony would need to flourish—carpentry, blacksmithing, medicine. They had cultivated these skills working for others, but had nearly given up hope of setting up where they could be more than another’s assistant.

These craft masters held a more realistic view of what the coming winter would bring and how close it was, never mind that the trees were just now unfolding their pale green leaves. They knew that having friends back east might make all the difference to their venture. Indeed, theirs were the most serious faces when the stones for Prince Barden and his people were set in place.

They’re wondering
, Derian thought as he looked at them,
how soon they will take their places next to these long dead, and if anyone will have survived to put a stone with their name in place and to commend them to the ancestors.

It was during this ceremony for the dead that Derian learned that Ewen’s colonists had found the remnants of another cemetery off in the woods. It held markers for at least seven of those on Derian’s list and for a few who were not on his list at all. Some of these—judging from the dates inscribed—were apparently children born to the colonists after their arrival, children who had not survived the harsh conditions. A few were adults, probably late arrivals who had risked—as Ewen’s parents had not let him do—King Tedric’s wrath in order to join the colony.

Most of the deaths seemed to have been due to illness or accident, but a few of the inscriptions were ambiguous. These were ascribed by the newcomers to the actions of predators and were used to fuel the “get them before they get us” philosophy of Hart and his fellows.

Another portion of the population with which Derian could have made himself quite popular was the young ladies, for not all were married and not all of those who were married seemed completely happy in this small community. Flirtation—a mere game in a populous city or town—was not viewed as an acceptable pastime here where everyone knew everyone else all too well. Although he was aware of several women giving him welcoming glances, Derian kept himself under a tight rein. It wasn’t that he didn’t long for female companionship, but he knew there were those among the men who would welcome any excuse to pick a fight with him.

Even without flirtation, there was much to do around Bardenville, and Derian was quite willing to do whatever was needed for as long as was needed, provided he was still welcome. If asked, he responded that he hoped to leave for home sometime around the end of Bear Moon. Thus he was greatly surprised when as Bear Moon was hardly showing a sliver against the night sky Firekeeper came to him, every line in her slim body eloquent with tension.

The labor of the day was winding down into evening’s routine chores and Derian was in the process of grooming his mules when Firekeeper arrived.

“Can’t we talk here?” he asked in response to her request.

Firekeeper bit her lip.

“Only if none come,” she said.

Derian forced a laugh.

“I doubt any will. The lazy ones won’t want to risk my asking them to help, and the hardworking have jobs of their own.”

Firekeeper nodded solemnly.

“How soon you can leave?”

“After I’ve finished the grooming.”

Firekeeper snorted in impatience.

“Not this place.” She gestured widely, encompassing the settlement in the sweep of her arm. “This place.”

Derian understood her, though he made a mental note that her time with the wolves had done nothing good for the wolf-woman’s command of human speech.

“Bardenville,” he said. “A day or two, I suppose.”

She tugged at her earlobe.

“Not tonight?”

Derian stared at her, his hands still automatically continuing with their work.

“Tonight?”

Firekeeper growled low in her throat.

“Tonight. Am worried. There is much unhappiness with the Beasts to this place. I have tried to stop it—though my heart does not know if I am right—but I have done all I can. Maybe, I think, if King Tedric tell these to go away they go…”