Elaine Corvidae - Lord of Wind and Fire 01

WOLFKIN

LORD OF WIND AND FIRE BOOK 01

By Elaine Corvidae

A DF Books NERDs Release

First published in 2003, 2003

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Prologue

He crouched in the pose of a hunter: body taut, senses extended. His eyes glittered in the night, like gray

ice set in a face the color of old bone. The wind scrabbled curiously at his threadbare black clothing,

seeking to touch the thin flesh stretched tight over his ribs. Unkempt hair, the crimson of freshly-spilled

blood, gusted across his face.

The wind smelled wrong, tasted wrong, he thought. More like the bitter wine of winter than the sweeter

cider of autumn. He shivered with the dread of the lean, cold months that had been bred into the blood

and bones of his kind.

He smiled sardonically at that thought. My kind? And what kind would that be?

The skeletal grasses rattled dryly around him, as if in commiseration. An enormous, dark shape moved

nervously at the lip of the small dell in which he hid. Reaching out blindly, he laid a reassuring hand against

the warhorse's warm hide. Iron muscles flexed under his callused fingers, and a velvety lip brushed his

skin. The animal's familiar scent filled his nostrils, comforting.

It's an ill night to be out on the Kellsmarch, he thought. Wide, canted eyes scanned the vast plains,

which stretched off to every side. The ivory moon shone down, illuminating every blade of grass with

silver fire. There's no cover out here, nowhere to hide.

Damn your stony heart, Ax, where are you?

A pale shape gleamed suddenly on the other side of the dell. He leapt back, snarling, before realizing it

was the wizard who stood there. A moment later, Ax's scentâ€”not exactly that of a normal human, but

not really definable as anything else, eitherâ€”wafted to him on the breeze.

Ax bowed slightly, and a mocking smile touched his withered lips. â€œForgive me, Yozerf Jonaglir. I did

not mean to startle you."

And I'm a human. Yozerf looked away, as if the wizard hardly concerned him. â€œTrihychyl. It's

Trihychyl."

Ax shrugged negligently. â€œIt hardly matters to me what clan name your family chooses to skulk under

these days."

Yozerf ground his teeth together in silent fury. But he was accustomed to bearing the offhand taunts of

humans, and in this, at least, the wizard seemed no different from his brethren.

Pretending to ignore the jibe, Yozerf tilted his head to one side and glared balefully at Ax. â€œWhat do

you want of me?"

"I think you know. It's time for you to pay your debt."

Yozerf transferred his malevolent stare to his hands, which rested lightly on his knees. My debt.

If I can survive whatever task he has for me, I'll be truly free for the first time in my life. No more

wondering when he'll come, what he'll ask of me. Free.

But freedom through slavery? Is that even possible?

Wariness caused the hair to prickle on the nape of his neck. Ax smelled smug, but a sour whiff of fear

tainted the wind as well. Anything dire enough to worry the wizard, let alone make him afraid, was likely

to be perilous in the extreme.

Although he knew it to be a futile gesture, he met Ax's stare with one of his own. Yozerf's gray gaze was

inhumanly cold, challenging the wizard's deceptively mild expression. â€œAnd if I refuse to do your

bidding?"

Ax inclined his head, and his smile sent a spike of ice through Yozerf's heart. â€œYou could try.

Thirty-four years ago, I used my healing arts to keep death from claiming you before you even drew your

first breath. I gave you your life. Therefore, it is mine to do with as I will."

Hatred clogged Yozerf's throat, and he spat on the ground. â€œSo you will throw me away as a pawn in

some unfathomable game."

"My â€˜gameâ€™ is unfathomable only to you,â€• Ax said, and now his voice was steel and stone, all

pretense of goodwill flung aside. â€œI work solely for the good of Jenel. Not for my own

aggrandizement, not for power, not for revenge. For my kingdom."

"Jenel is nothing to me,â€• Yozerf hissed. â€œHel can come take this kingdom and everyone in itâ€”it is

no concern of mine."

A wall of force punched into him, heaving him off his feet and slamming him hard against the earth. All the

air left his lungs, and for an instant he lay stunned. The warhorse behind him screamed, and its hooves cut

across the stars above his head. Gasping for breath, he forced himself to roll away from the frightened

animal.

No sharp pains accompanied the movementâ€”at least Ax hadn't seen fit to shatter his bones.

Undoubtedly because I couldn't perform his little task then. Chest heaving, Yozerf came up into a

crouch. His head still spun with the force of the blow, and he had to stretch a hand out to the ground to

steady himself. The taste of blood filled his mouth.

Ax glared angrily from the other side of the dell, not even looking wearied from his display. â€œJenel is

my kingdom, and I work to defend her,â€• the wizard said in a low, dangerous voice. â€œAnd so will

you. You will not question me, only do what I say."

Yozerf rose slowly to his feet, careful to keep any sign of pain from his face. â€œI will do as you

ask,â€• he said quietly. â€œI would have done so anyway. Whatever else you might say of me, I never

reneged on a debtâ€”not even one to a human. There was no need for force."

Ax chuckled softly, the sound melding with the sere rattle of the dead grasses. â€œPerhaps. But this way,

you'll never forget who owns you."

Chapter 1

Suchen slipped carefully through the wood, moving in near silence. Each booted foot lifted and was set

down with the utmost precision, avoiding anything that might rustle or crack. Her cloak, tunic, and breeks

were dyed dull brown and gray, meant to blend in with tree trunks and bramble thickets. Alert blue eyes

swept the forest about her, searching for movement, for tracks that would betray a trace of animals or

humans. Her left arm held her bow steadily, and her right hand clutched an arrow ready to be aimed and

fired within the space of a breath.

The wood held its silence like a crouching beast. Brilliant autumn leaves painted the trees in shades of

crimson, gold, and orange, and a cool breeze scraped hoary branches together with a sound like the soft

tittering of old women. The air smelled of damp earth and dead leaves.

Normally, Suchen reflected, she wouldn't have gone into the forest to practice stealth without the

company of the Sworn to judge her success. But today the autumn air had infected her with a restless

longing, a need to leave crowded, noisy Kellsjard and take this last chance at wandering alone before

winter set in. She had ridden a quarter day to reach this wildwood on the very edge of the Kellsmarch,

leaving her horse to forage at the grassy verge while she went ahead on foot.

She felt a twinge of guilt that she had neglected to tell anyone exactly where she was going. But if the

Sworn knew I was leaving Kellsjard, they would have wanted to come too. Or at least Peddock

would have. And if not that, then Garal would be at me with worries about the mead, or the

harvest, or the number of arrows in the armory.

There were days, she reflected, when she grew heartily tired of lists of supplies and speculations about

the weather. It was foolish, but even so ... sometimes she felt a formless sense of longing rise up in her

heart, like the restless call of a migrating bird. But she could never quite say what she longed for, except

that it was different from what she had now.

A sudden, prickling sensation raced down the back of her neck. I'm being watched...

She froze, muscles tensing with instinct honed during nine years of hard training. Her eyes scanned the

trees about her with calm efficiency. When no sign of threat met her searching gaze, she pivoted slowly

around on one heel to look behind.

Nothing. Maybe it was just a deer. Or a bird. Or sheer paranoia. Suchen completed her sweep,

coming back to her original position, only to find the iron tip of her arrow pointed directly between the

pale eyes of an old man standing not five feet from her.

She swallowed a yelp of shock, kept her arrow steady even as her mind yelled that no one could have

come so close without her hearing him. Least of all a frail old man.

Certainly he seemed an unlikely sort to meet in an unsettled wood such as this. Long, white robesâ€”too

pristine to have spent much time trailing along ground covered with wet, fallen leavesâ€”hung about a

spare frame. Ivory hair tumbled luxuriantly down his back, matched by the snowy beard covering his

chest. A pair of piercing blue eyes peered kindly at her from amidst a webwork of wrinkles. The scent of

herbs and smoke drifted from the folds of his robes.

One explanation for his presence in this deserted woodâ€”and for his uncannily silent

approachâ€”seemed immediately apparent. â€œWolfkin?â€• she demanded, voice shaking. Gods, if he

was truly one of those demons, her life was done now.

The old man chuckled and shook his head. â€œNo. I'm no shape-changer, dear girl. You have nothing to

fear from me. I merely wish to speak with you."

Suchen narrowed her eyes, her aim never wavering. â€œWho are you, old man? How did you move so

quietly that I never heard you?"

He smiled thinly, blue eyes glittering with merriment. â€œYou are Suchen Keblava,â€• he stated

abruptly. â€œDaughter of Reag Keblav, a not-inconsequential merchant in southern Jenel. Steward to

Lord Auglar of Kellsjard, an unusual post for such a young woman."

A chill went through her. This was definitely not a chance meeting. â€œYou seem to know me,â€• she

said with a steadiness that betrayed none of her concern. â€œNow, tell me who you are and what you

want of me."

"Or you'll feather my throat with that arrow?â€• he asked, amused rather than fearful. â€œVery well.

My name is Ax."

"Ax?"

"You know the name, I take it."

"The name, yes.â€• Vague memories of her father's gossip about the court filtered back from childhood.

â€œAx was a powerful wizard. He was exiled from Jenel nineteen years ago, after the death of King

Horondus."

Ax smiled again, a grandfatherly sort of benediction that threatened to put her more at ease with him than

she thought safe. â€œThe infant Queen's Regency Council did exile me after her father's untimely death,

yes,â€• he agreed amicably. â€œI have traveled far in the years since, but have never forgotten that

Jenel is where I truly belong. But I have returned for more pressing reasons than simple

homesickness.â€• He regarded her arrow thoughtfully. â€œI see you have trouble accepting my words.

Perhaps this will convince you."

The old man reached out a withered hand, his fingers coming to rest flat against the gnarled bark of an

old tree. He showed no signs of strain; he made no gestures, nor spoke any words.

But the dead leaves on the tree shuddered, fluttered to the ground in a drift. New foliage, the bright green

of spring, sprouted from suddenly-swelled buds. It grew at a phenomenal rate, unfolding and darkening

as if a season passed at the rate of a single breath. Bright white flowers bloomed, their sweet scent

perfuming the cool autumn air. Half of them shriveled and fell to the ground, to be replaced by fat, red

apples.

Suchen stared in amazement. Very slowly, she let her bowstring go slack, arrow dropping to hang

loosely from her fingers. Her throat tightened with a mixture of fear and awe, and she bowed her head.

â€œWhat ... what do you want of me, Ax?"

He chuckled softly, removing his hand from the tree's rough bark. â€œDo not fear, Suchen Keblava. I'm

no evil sorcerer from a fairy tale, come to trick you into trading your soul.â€• His demeanor sobered

abruptly. â€œAlthough this task is far from pleasant."

"Task?"

He nodded. One hand gestured for her to draw nearer. â€œTell me, daughter, what do you know of the

Empire of Argannon?"

Suchen frowned uncertainly. â€œI know what anyone else knows. Argannon lies to the North. Maak

separates Jenel from it to the northwest, dead Caden to the North, and Shalai to the northeast. Legend

claims that it is ruled over by a great sorcerer, the Undying Emperor Jahcgroth. But no one in the Circle

Kingdoms has had any contact with Argannon since the fall of Caden, over three centuries ago.â€• She

shrugged helplessly. â€œThat's it."

He nodded reassuringly. â€œExcellent, child. Although it is true that Argannon has kept to itself for three

centuries, that time of isolation is nearly at an end. The Emperor Jahcgroth is indeed a powerful sorcerer,

skilled in the arts of necromancy. Through use of his black magic, he has foreseen that the next several

years will bring with them terrible winters. Snow will fall as far south as Iddi. Spring will come but briefly,

with many frosts to kill young shoots. Summer will be but a shadow, and autumn but the barest prelude

to the deathly cold. Things will be better or worse in the Circle Kingdoms depending on how far south

they lie. But in Argannon, it will be devastating."

Suchen's eyes widened at the grim predictions. Bitter winters, famine ... a shiver ran up her spine. This

was something Auglar needed to know about, and soon, so they could start planning for storage and

trade. â€œWhat will happen?"

Ax sighed, his eyes looking ancient and unutterably weary. â€œJahcgroth is desperate to avoid the

disaster he knows must come. That is why he plans to attack the Circle Kingdoms, to make himself ruler

over them and bring his own people into the south, where at least some of them might survive. Already,

the first stirrings begin. Homesteads in Shalai near the Wild Mountains have been attacked and looted.

Horses return without their riders when patrols are sent to investigate. Full-scale war will break out

before the snows fall twice more."

His eyes narrowed, hardening into shards of blue granite. â€œJenel must not be caught unprepared. This

kingdom and her allies must be ready to stand firm against the might of Argannon."

Suchen nodded shortly. â€œBut what is it that you wish of me? I'm Auglar's Steward, not his general.

You'd do better to talk to one of his Sworn."

Ax put his hand reassuringly on her arm. â€œI know exactly who and what you are, my dear. But my

need right now is not for warriors, but for trustworthy folk who can complete a simple task for me."

"What task?â€• she asked again.

"A troublesome affair but an important one. In two weeks time, a young noblewoman by the name of

Trethya Selista will be waiting a day's journey south of the village of Diicus in southern Jenel. I ask only

that you join her there, and then escort her safely back to meet with Lord Auglar at Kellsjard. She has

news that could change the course of the coming war. Lord Auglar will find it particularly valuable."

"Why me?"

"The girl will need another woman as a chaperone, of course. I think that one who can defend her life as

well as her honor will be for the best. And as I said, this involves your lord quite closely."

"How?"

"Time will show,â€• he said, and for the first time she caught an edge of impatience in his voice. As soon

as he realized it, he caught himself and smiled. â€œForgive me, but I do not have much time. I risk

execution simply by being here, and I fear tarrying too long. Will you help me?"

She bit her lip. â€œAuglar will have to release me to go, you understand. But if he feels I should do as

you request, then I will."

"Excellent! That is all I could ask.â€• He paused, tapping one withered finger against his lips. â€œI

know that this has been very sudden and that the journey is long, so I am sending you an ally. Although

he may seem unlikely at first, I ask you to accept him. He may be of greater help in the coming days than

even I can guess."

The wizard turned away, as if he intended to return to the woods whence he had come, and then he

stopped, glancing over his shoulder at her, his eyes suddenly dark. â€œOne thing more. Ask Auglar what

Lord Wren's letter said."

With that he vanished, as if he had never been.

* * * *

The wolf lay silent in the bush, his ears plastered back flat against his head. His thick, mist-gray fur

bristled uncontrollably, and a faint growl shuddered in his throat. He hated being so near any city, but this

one was particularly repellent. The mere thought of drawing any closer than a league to its outskirts

caused the wolf's tail to flatten against his belly and his long legs to shake with fear.

This far away, it was impossible to smell the stink of Segg's streets: the acid fetor of garbage and

unwashed bodies, the sour stench of bought sex, the rottenness of hunger. The wolf remembered the

reek of despair still, as if it hung in an inescapable cloud about his own body. The sun had set, and a cool

breeze whispered through the nearly-bare trees. Only a dirt track ran through this forest, used but little

save by woodcutters who would have long ago sought the warmth of their huts.

A faint crackle, as of a foot on leaves, sounded in the early darkness. The wolf's furred ears perked up,

and he raised his head a little. Keen eyes penetrated the gloom, reducing the world to a collage of

sharp-edged shadows and gray-toned shapes.

He smelled her before he saw her, the musky fragrance of a human female blowing on the breeze.

Fear-stink clung to her, mixed in with the rusty odor of blood.

She stumbled into sight: a small young woman casting frantic glances back over her shoulder. Black hair

hung in a tangle about her pale face. Her delicate hands were dark with a tracery of blood. She was

dressed in a rich gown of white silk stitched with metallic threads. Tiny slippers caked with mud and

debris slid perilously on ground covered with wet leaves.

She paused a moment near the wolf's hiding place, still staring behind her as if terrified of pursuit. Her

dark eyes were huge with fear, and her breath came quick from exertion. The smell of her fright was

intense so close, and the wolf had to fight to keep his ears from lying back against his skull. After a long,

tense moment, she gathered up the ruins of her full skirts in her hands and began to run again.

As soon as she was out of sight, the wolf slipped from his hiding place. Her musky human smell,

obscured by the remains of sickeningly-sweet perfume, lingered in the air. Tilting back his head, the wolf

tasted the wind, sifting it for any signs of pursuit. The scent of a rabbit came to him, setting his stomach to

grumbling. Somewhere far off in the wood, two raccoons squabbled querulously over food. Other than

that, all was silent and still.

No pursuit was good. The young woman in the beautiful gown so unsuited to flight through the

woodâ€”disaster.

Stupid humans. Stupid, stupid.

Served them right.

* * * *

"And then he just faded away into the forest like a ghost,â€• Suchen finished. She spread her hands

apart in a helpless gesture. â€œWell? What do you think?"

She had returned to Kellsjard straight away, riding hard across the plain to the fortress so that she arrived

shortly before sunset. Leaving her tired steed with the stable master, she had wasted no time making for

the great hall where the keep's inhabitants gathered for dinner. It had been the work of a few moments to

summon Lord Auglar, his wife Sifya, and his Sworn.

They retired to a small room at the top of one of Kellsjard's many towers. Wheel-spoke rafters

blackened by soot hung low over their heads. A long, wooden table, which Auglar used for some of his

studies, took up most of the round chamber. Shelves crammed with books and scrolls lined the walls,

and the white bones of some animal stood mounted on a frame in one corner. An iron brazier heated the

room, painting the faces of those near it with ruddy light.

Buudi Gyr, first among the Sworn, leaned back in his chair. He was a middle-aged man, his

shoulder-length black hair streaked with silver. His features were rugged, as if a sculptor had chiseled

them out and then abruptly left before polishing down the rough edges. â€œYou believe that this man

truly was the wizard Ax?â€• he asked quietly, his aristocratic accent a relic from the days of his youth.

Suchen sighed and scrubbed at her eyes with her fingertips. She was tired, both from the ride and

incessant self-questioning. Her long braid had come half unraveled, and unruly strands of golden hair

stuck out in all directions. â€œI've been asking myself that over and over,â€• she replied honestly.

â€œHe did display magicâ€”he was a powerful wizard. And would anyone claim to be Ax if he wasn't?

After all, Ax was exiledâ€”just returning to Jenel has put him under a death sentence."

"True,â€• Buudi agreed slowly.

"But why come to Suchen alone in the wood? Why not come here, to Kellsjard, and talk to Lord Auglar

directly?â€• asked Gless. He leaned forwards, peering at Suchen with wide, spring-sky eyes. Blonde

hair, curled like a dandy's, flopped fetchingly about his face. He wore a decrepit jerkin, which had once

probably belonged to a jongleur. Its slashed yellow sleeves revealed bright spots of red beneath, and its

much-mended body was composed of strips of clashing colors. The extravagant lace cuffs of a

gentleman's shirt peeked out from underneath, so old they had turned a very peculiar shade of yellow.

Suchen raised an eyebrow at the outfit. â€œPerhaps he feared for his sight,â€• she suggested.

Gless grinned and blew her a kiss.

"Can we afford not to believe him?â€• asked the soft-voiced Uzco from the corner of the table. Serious

amber eyes peered out from behind a cloud of hair the same color. His cheeks bore ritual scars that gave

his already-delicate face a pointy look.

Buudi craned his head back to stare distractedly at the rafters. â€œUzco has a point."

Until now, Lord Auglar had sat silently in his seat at the head of the table. A serious, intent young man, he

had more the look of a scholar than of an aristocrat. Long black hair framed a sensitive face, startling

against his pale, blue eyes. His gray and white clothing, though of good quality, was not much different

from that of his Sworn. â€œI agree. If Suchen believes that the man she met was truly Ax, then I trust her

judgment."

Suchen cast him a grateful smile. The smile faded, however, as she recalled Ax's cryptic final words.

â€œAuglar ... there is one other thing concerning you. Ax told me to ask you about a letter you had

received from Lord Wren.â€• She shrugged, indicating her own puzzlement.

Auglar's face paled suddenly. He and Sifya exchanged a sharp look, and she reached to take his hand.

Buudi straightened in alarm. â€œWhat is it, my lord?"

The young lord shook his head. â€œHe couldn't know about that letter,â€• he murmured to Sifya. â€œIt

isn't possible. Wren sent it to me in utmost confidence, and I burned it the instant I read it, lest we all lose

our heads."

"What?â€• exclaimed Buudi.

Sifya glanced piercingly in Buudi's direction. Auglar's bride of less than a year, she had been inseparable

from his side for far longer than that. Flaxen hair, bound in two waist-length braids, framed an

unremarkable face. Her blue gown was simple and matched the color of her fierce eyes. â€œI think you

should tell them,â€• she said softly to her husband. A peasant accent still tainted her words, despite all

her efforts to eradicate it. â€œThey are your Swornâ€”can you trust anyone more? And Suchen should

hear as well."

"I suppose.â€• He sighed and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. â€œWren has involved me in nothing certain.

He merely wrote to me of rumors, suspicions...â€• he trailed off, then shook his head. â€œLet me tell it

from the start. Some of you may not realize this, being too young to truly remember King Horondus's

reign, but the monarchs of Jenel have two main holdings, both in the south. The first is Nava Nar, within

the port city of Segg. The second is Nava Yek, a rural winter palace normally used by the ruler's spouse

or siblings. It has been traditional throughout the centuries that a very close relationship is maintained

between the monarch and the two lords upon whose demesnes the palaces stand.

"As Nava Yek is surrounded by Wren's lands, he expected such a relationship upon assuming the

lordship. And in fact, he was a friend to King Horondus before the king died in a hunting accident.

Afterwards, however, things deteriorated. The Regency Council didn't seem anxious to keep up ties with

anyone who had been close to the King."

"Such as Ax,â€• Gless put in wryly.

Auglar nodded, his austere face grim. â€œYes. Wren let things lie, knowing that eventually the infant

Rozah would reach her majority. A year ago, she turned eighteen and was crowned Queen of Jenel.

Wren spoke to her at the coronationâ€”he described her as a wan, shy girl who didn't seem entirely

certain of her own status. She assured him that he would be invited to Nava Yek when she wintered

there.

"But that never occurred. The Queen never came to Nava Yek at all, but instead remained secluded

within the main palace of Nava Nar. Nor did Wren ever receive any promised correspondence from her.

Instead, things continued on exactly as they had during the reign of the Regencyâ€”now the

Advisoryâ€”Council.

"In his letter, Wren stated that he believes Queen Rozah is being held a virtual prisoner within Nava Nar.

That the Advisory Council spent the last nineteen years filling the castle with their own sycophants, so that

no one would challenge them if they never gave up their power. Wren believes that the Council is issuing

proclamations in Queen Rozah's name without her knowledge or consent."

Shocked silence filled up the room. Outside, the bitter wind blew through the eaves, keening like a lost

soul. Coals shifted in the brazier, sending up a brief flurry of sparks. The tower creaked softly with the

gradual settling of stone and wood.

"But ... but Rozah is Queen,â€• protested Dara-Don, a big man with the soft eyes of a faithful hound.

One hand crept up to touch the good-luck charm hung about his neck. â€œThe lords would rebel if she

was being held prisoner ... right?"

Sifya sighed wistfully. â€œIf there was proof, yes. But without any proof, Wren's talk is nothing short of

treason."

Suchen let the gravity of the statement sink in. If anyone else found out about this, it could mean the

deaths of Auglar, Sifya, all the Sworn, and very likely herself as well. And Auglar had made many

enemies during the war of succession that had followed his father's death, none of whom would scruple

to use any weapon against him that they could. â€œWhat does any of this have to do with usâ€”with the

task Ax set us?â€• she wondered aloud. â€œWas he trying to warn us? And if so, of what?"

"I don't know.â€• Auglar stared at the tabletop for a long moment, then slowly turned his gaze on Buudi.

â€œThis casts a new light on things, one that I don't like. This is too important to trust to ordinary

soldiers. I want you and the rest to go south with Suchen."

"My lordâ€”"

"No."

"At least let one or two of us stay,â€• Buudi said reasonably. â€œWe are your bodyguardsâ€”who will

protect you while we're gone?"

"I have other soldiers and guards, Buudi. Most of them I trust to guard me against mundane threats. But I

don't trust them not to let slip word of treason, not if it comes to that. I don't have to tell you that Lord

Fellrant would pay a very great deal for any scrap of information that might destabilize this demesne.

You're going."

Buudi had no choice save to bow his head in acquiescence. â€œThen we leave on the morrow. The

sooner away, the sooner back. Gather in the courtyard a half-hour before dawn."

"Hilwa isn't going to be happy about this,â€• Dara-Don stated mournfully.

Suchen gave a mental sigh. Hilwa bemoaned everything connected with her husband being one of the

Sworn. She cried when he went out to fight brigands, and then whined when he had to accompany

Auglar on the annual progress around the demesne. She seemed completely oblivious to any honor

Dara-Don received, instead scornfully repeating stories of how her father had supported his family as a

farmer, without having to resort to swords and blood and danger. Suchen secretly suspected that Hilwa

blamed their failure to conceive on Dara-Don's frequent absences.

"As if the rest of us are happy about it,â€• Peddock muttered in his sister's ear.

Suchen shrugged. â€œLike Buudi said, the sooner gone the sooner returned. At least you get to sleep

tonightâ€”I'll be up until dawn writing instructions for Garal so he doesn't die from apoplexy when I tell

him he's acting steward for as long as it takes us to get back."

"If we come back,â€• Peddock replied sourly.

* * * *

The wolf stood just outside of a small clearing. Within the space between the trees crouched the young

Elaine Corvidae - Lord of Wind and Fire 01 - Wolfkin

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