The Dragon of Despair (7 page)

The wolf-woman had taken longer to warm to the queen than to the king, for Elexa’s subtle ways of handling her myriad responsibilities had been more difficult to appreciate. Now, however, especially after seeing the very different ways in which Lady Luella and Duchess Kestrel managed their households, Firekeeper could appreciate how neatly Queen Elexa balanced the times she needed to intervene and when her best managing would be to step back and let those like Stewart Silver or the head cook or gardener run their parts of the castle without interference.

Queen Elexa liked asking Firekeeper for tales of the wolf-woman’s adventures, sometimes about those things that had happened since Firekeeper came to the human lands west of the mountains, more frequently about Firekeeper’s childhood among the wolves. Firekeeper was happy to tell the queen what she could and learned not to be astonished by what amazed the queen.

In return, especially as her cough began to heal and she could talk more easily, Queen Elexa would tell stories. She shared Firekeeper’s fascination with the comet and told her stories that purported to explain its presence in the skies.

One story said a comet was a giant horse with a burning mane and tail that had broken from its place pulling the wagon that hauled the sun through the sky. It ran and ran, hoping to get free from the harness that still trailed behind. In another story, the comet was a dragon, breathing a steady stream of fire.

This last tale prompted a long discussion, for Firekeeper had never really thought about dragons, though she’d heard them mentioned frequently, especially in New Kelvin. She’d seen dragons depicted in heraldry, but had believed that they were just poorly drawn lizards. Queen Elexa told her otherwise, showing her brilliant paintings in bestiaries.

“But are these
real
things?” Firekeeper asked, looking at the drawings of dragons and other fantastic beasts.

“I never thought so,” the queen admitted, “but then I never thought that there were wolves like Blind Seer.”

The Royal Wolf woke from his drowse in front of the fire to comment:

“But what an impressive revelation I have been!”

Firekeeper must hide a grin then or explain. Months earlier she had decided—encouraged by the wolves themselves—that it was best that the humans believe simply that Blind Seer and Elation were fine animals, but animals nonetheless. Her early efforts to explain otherwise had mostly been frustrating. Now she didn’t even try.

A few of her friends, Derian, certainly, and probably Elise and Doc, had their suspicions. Firekeeper didn’t mind, but she no longer made any effort to represent Blind Seer as anything other than a wolf. She didn’t even protest—though not long ago the thought would have sent her into furies—when some mistook the blue-eyed wolf for a dog.

ALTHOUGH FIREKEEPER ENJOYED HER VISITS
with the king and queen—and with Citrine, when the girl was sane—first among her friends at the castle was Holly Gardener.

Holly was an older woman, retired from her position as head gardener of Eagle’s Nest Castle. She had passed on the responsibilities of acting as head gardener to her son Timin, but she remained busy about the various gardens.

Even now, with spring providing more rain than warmth, Holly could usually be found outside, leaning on her stick as she moved from bedding area to bedding area, encouraging the young growing things—so at least it seemed to Firekeeper—with her very presence.

Gardening in all its forms impressed Firekeeper to no end. As a human art, it ranked right up with music and dancing in her estimation, and perhaps slightly above these, no matter how much she enjoyed them both. Music and dancing were, after all, entertainment only. Gardening was both entertainment and a means of providing food. The wolf-woman had lived through too many lean times to not be impressed by an art that guaranteed good things to eat, even in the leanest winter months.

“And you’re not bored with potatoes and turnips,” Holly said to her. “That’s a good thing. Of course, most people don’t have the option of broadening their cold cellar’s contents with a duchess’s venison.”

Firekeeper overlooked the teasing and continued trying to get a feel for the spade she was using. Unlike the bow, which she had taken to with ease, or the sword—which she could use, but was less than adept with—or her beloved Fang, a shovel remained clumsy in her hands.

“That’s because,” Holly said with a great deal of insight, “you don’t get immediate rewards from your work. A bow, now, that’s very satisfying. ‘Twang’ and a goose-feathered shaft is sailing through the air. If you’re lucky you even get something nice to eat. With a shovel, all you get is more dirt.”

Firekeeper persisted in her efforts, though, and by the time they retired to Holly’s cottage on the grounds she had turned over several rows and raked them ready for planting. She was muddy, too, but Holly had suggested she bring a change of clothing with her. By the time tea was ready Firekeeper was warm and dry.

Changes of clothes and hot baths are,
Firekeeper thought,
two of the nicer things about how humans live.

There was a knock at the door just as she was reaching for her first hot buttered biscuit. Holly called out:

“Come in!”

Firekeeper swiveled on her stool by the fire. She’d expected Robyn or Dan, Holly’s grandsons. However, Derian was the guest who entered, ducking his tall form just a touch to get under the low lintel of the cottage door.

“Fox Hair!” she cried in delight.

She’d been hunting when Derian arrived from the North Woods and, though they’d met a time or two since, she’d seen little enough of him. He, of course, was staying with his family, while she remained at the castle. Although Derian had assured Firekeeper she would be welcome at the Carter house (if not at the stables) and Firekeeper believed him, the wolf-woman was unwilling to take Blind Seer through the city. They’d made the trip a time or two, and it had been stressful for both of them.

“Am I late?” Derian asked, bowing slightly to Holly. “Has Lady Voracious here eaten everything?”

Firekeeper looked at him in indignation.

“We have just started,” she said. “Blind Seer hasn’t even had his bone.”

“A subtle reminder,” Holly said with a smile.

She hobbled out to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a thick beef bone Firekeeper had brought over earlier. The wolf took it from the old woman with extreme delicacy, even resting the messy thing on the hearthstone rather than the rug.

Derian waited until Holly was settled before taking his own chair.

“Firekeeper, I hope you don’t mind my inviting Derian,” Holly said. “I’d meant to mention his coming earlier, but it quite slipped my mind. You with a shovel was something of a distraction.”

Firekeeper wiped butter from her lips onto the back of her hand.

“I am not very good with a shovel,” she admitted ruefully.

“And growing worse with a napkin,” Derian replied sternly, handing her a square of cloth. “Good manners are for everywhere, not just for King Tedric’s table.”

Firekeeper submitted meekly, more because she didn’t want Holly to think she valued her less than the king than because she felt particularly abashed.

“I can free up to leave town in a day or so,” Derian said. “I’ve been waiting until the prince and princess make their announcement.”

“That,” Firekeeper said, “will be tomorrow. They have waited so that King Allister will hear first.”

Holly, in whom Firekeeper had already confided the great news in order that she might quiz the older woman about just how humans went about having children and how long it took those children to mature to usefulness and such, looked pleased.

“I’ve been bursting at the seams,” the elderly gardener admitted. “Just the other day Princess Sapphire’s maid was giving herself such airs in the servants’ hall. It was all I could do not to burst her bubble. Smug little minx—as if waiting on a princess makes her one herself!”

“Must run in the blood of those who wait on Shield-born,” Derian said. “I recall that Melina’s old confidential servant—Nanny, they called her—gave herself airs as well.”

“After we have our tea, then,” Holly said, “remind me that I have a packet for Derian.”

“Packet?” Firekeeper asked.

Holly nodded, looking at that moment bent as much by sorrow as by age.

“Do you remember how once I told you that my daughter, her husband, and their little girl were among those who went with Prince Barden?”

Firekeeper nodded. She felt sad for the fine old lady. It was clear that over ten years might have blunted the intensity of Holly’s loss, but had done nothing to diminish her grief.

“Well, I’m sending a few small grave goods for them. Derian and I spoke of this during one of his earlier visits. You, I think, were chasing rabbits.”

Firekeeper frowned. “You and House Kestrel and the king and queen. Derian, we will need more than two mules and a few ponies!”

“They’re all sending small things,” the redhead replied with a chuckle. “Like the tokens that go into wedding pouches.”

Firekeeper felt relieved.

“Good then.”

DERIAN STUDIED FIREKEEPER
as Holly spoke of her daughter’s family, but no emotion but compassion crossed the young woman’s features. He knew the names of Holly’s family: Serena Gardener, Donal Hunter, and Tamara—this last the couple’s daughter, still too young to have a use-name of her own. In any case, no other identification than a first name probably had been needed in Prince Barden’s small colony.

What Derian was looking for on Firekeeper’s face was recognition, for he knew—as perhaps no one other than King Tedric knew—that Firekeeper really was this lost Tamara, and that Holly, whom the wolf-woman had adopted from personal interest and fellow feeling, was her own grandmother.

But Firekeeper showed no signs of recognizing any connection between them other than fondness, and Derian was sworn to silence.

Besides,
he thought,
aren’t ties of love and friendship better than those of obligation?

The truth of this stayed with him as he sat visiting with the old woman and the young, and his faint feeling that he should tell Firekeeper the full story of her relationship to Holly faded. Instead he thought over the past several days.

He’d enjoyed his visit home, would be sorry to be leaving again so soon, but Earl Kestrel had offered no difficulty with Derian living at home this summer while continuing in Kestrel employ. Derian could anticipate a long slow spring into summer, working part-time with his father, that routine enlivened by duties for the earl. A trip now would simply give him more stories to tell out under the peach tree in the garden as the family whiled away the hot summer evenings.

Derian considered telling Firekeeper some of the rumors he’d gathered at the stables, but held his tongue. This lighter conversation—Holly was chivying Firekeeper about the butter running down the young woman’s chin—was pleasant, and he would have time enough to bring Firekeeper up to date as they traveled west.

“Tell me, Derian,” Holly asked, seeming to read his thoughts. “Are you and Firekeeper making this journey alone together?”

Derian shrugged and offered a rueful smile.

“There’s no saving Firekeeper’s reputation where I’m concerned, Holly. I was her body servant for too long. ’Round the North Woods we spread the rumor that Blind Seer will have the throat and heart of any man who so much as looks cross-eyed at her, and that stills most of the talk. I’ve no doubt the story will have come here with us.”

“A wolf chaperon.” Holly laughed. “That’s rather unusual.”

Yet true,
Derian thought.
I wouldn’t want to be the man who showed the wrong side of his hand to Firekeeper. Even if Blind Seer held himself back, she would not.

THEY LEFT EAGLE’S NEST
a few days later. Sapphire and Shad’s announcement had been received with overwhelming delight by the residents of Eagle’s Nest. There was dancing in the streets and the Festival of the Horse—which was in process already—took on the air of an impromptu congratulations party. Derian—who belonged to the Horse Society and so was already committed to attending the dancing and drinking—threw himself into the celebrations with double enthusiasm.

His head was still a bit heavy and felt about twice its usual size from overindulging the night before when Derian rose the next morning to saddle Roanne. The chestnut mare was skittish, dancing at her shadow, and unsettling the mixed string of mules and mountain horses Derian was taking along. His usual gift for handling horseflesh seemed to have vanished this morning and he found himself particularly glad that his younger brother Brock and old Toad were coming with him around the city and for a day’s ride west.

Firekeeper would intercept him there. They had both agreed that while Roanne was accustomed to Blind Seer, and her habit of dominating any equine company in which she found herself would cause the other animals to eventually come around to tolerating the wolf, there was no need to start the introductions in a crowded urban area.