Wolf Captured Read online

  However, there was no way she could do this. Derian had lapsed back into semiconsciousness, before, she thought, he realized just how serious their situation was. For one thing, he hadn't seemed to register that they were aboard a boat, and that the boat was moving. She had little idea of how swiftly they were traveling, but the sound of water against the sides suggested a fair amount of speed.

  The Flin River was in spate, channeling runoff from the spring snowmelt, and the current was swift. It did not take an experienced sailor to realize that they were probably moving far more rapidly than anything ashore. Moreover, no one would notice one more boat among so many. Spring brought a return to river traffic, and with a new season nothing would be unusual—or rather, everything would be. Moons would wax and wane before the riverside dwellers would register which boats ran usual routes and so notice those that did not.

  To make matters worse, she had no idea where they were headed. Maps were something Firekeeper understood, though she tended to struggle a bit with them. She had seen maps of the local waterways, rivers drawn as bright blue curves that to her eyes bore little resemblance to the broad, powerful reality. From Eagle's Nest, the capital city of Hawk Haven, the Flin ran southeast before encountering the Barren River. The Barren then continued northeast before emptying into the ocean at Hawk Haven's one harbor, Port Haven.

  Then we are being taken, she thought, either to Bright Bay or to the ocean.

  But this train of thought led her to no constructive conclusions about their captors. Bright Bay was officially friendly to Hawk Haven, but unlike in a wolf pack there were those who grumbled about the rulers, even when those rulers led strongly. She had heard few complaints about King Allister of the Pledge from those who had come from Bright Bay to celebrate the birth of his grandson, but then she would not have. She was known as Allister's friend, and in any case his enemies would not have made the long journey to celebrate the child's birth.

  What if the boat was carrying them out onto the ocean? Firekeeper had seen the ocean, understood that somewhere across impossibly vast stretches of water were the Isles where Queen Valora—no friend to Firekeeper or those she valued—ruled. Firekeeper understood, too, that humans used the ocean as deer might a forest trail. Reaching the ocean might not be journey's end, but rather journey's beginning.

  No. Thinking where they were going was useless. Only humans spent time planning hunts when the game had yet to be sighted. She would concentrate on what she did know.

  That forced her to face uncomfortable facts she had been avoiding—that Blind Seer was sleeping very deeply, showing no sign of waking. The wolf's breathing was steady and regular. Indeed, whereas Derian had vomited as he was waking, Blind Seer showed no distress at all. Although it should have reassured her, that lack of distress bothered Firekeeper. Were their captors using some sort of magic to keep the wolf asleep? In the past she had witnessed the use of magics both great and small, but although the possibility of magic being used against them was disturbing, there was another possibility that bothered her even more.

  There had been one among their captors, a slim, dark man with the highest cheekbones she had ever seen, who had made Firekeeper very uneasy. He had seemed unusually… She struggled to find the right word for the man's attitude. "Comfortable" didn't quite cover the idea, neither did "matter of fact," but there had been something of both in the man's actions as he gave orders. This bothered her. She had yet to meet any human whose initial encounter with Blind Seer had not been colored by fear. They might not show it, but Firekeeper knew the signs, knew the scent.

  This man had not been afraid. Cautious, yes, but not afraid. He had emerged from inside the boat after Firekeeper and Blind Seer had come aboard. He had been the one who had measured out the drinks for her and Blind Seer.

  The wolf's had been poured into a bowl of beef stock and set down on the deck. Firekeeper had been told to make certain Blind Seer drank it all before she drank her own. The man had watched with something of the same manner she had seen about Doc when the physician was dosing one of his patients—an air of analytical curiosity.

  But no fear. No doubt. He had acted as if he knew what he was doing and had no question that what he planned would work. Was this merely confidence or was it something else?

  It was a question Firekeeper knew she would not ask, even if opportunity presented itself. From the little she had overheard before the drug took her into sleep, she gathered that their captors might not be aware how clever she had become in understanding human ways. Best that they continue to think so. It might provide her a means of escape.

  As much as Firekeeper disliked the possibility that magic had been used against them, she dreaded more the confidence she had perceived in the dark man. It had not been without cause. She had slept. Blind Seer still slept. Derian had slept, and though he had awakened sick, this could be because of the other things he had drunk earlier in the evening's entertainment rather than from whatever the dark man had done.

  The dark man had reason for his confidence, and Firekeeper was wise enough to dread that confidence—and to wonder at its source.

  Firekeeper had a wolf's patience when necessary, but she also had a wild animal's aversion to being trapped. Just because she couldn't see any way to escape now didn't mean she didn't want to be prepared in case the opportunity presented itself.

  The square cage in which she was held was generously proportioned—if you were feeling charitable. She could lie down fully stretched out, even stand without stooping. The base and top were wood, the bars iron. A faint odor clung to the floor, but it wasn't one she could place. She'd ask Blind Seer about it when he woke. Compared with the wolf, she was nose-dead, just as compared with most humans she was astonishingly sensitive.

  The reminder of her companions' drugged state gave a fresh urgency to her desire to break free. One by one she tested the bars. Each was solid in itself, but a few moved promisingly within the sockets that held them in the wood. If she had her Fang, she could have enlarged the hole, but the knife, along with the small pouch in which she carried flint and steel, had been taken from her.

  She patted herself down to see what remained to her. She wore a long-sleeved cotton dress, certainly soiled by now. Originally, it had been pale blue with red trim, the colors of House Kestrel, the Great House into which she had been adopted. She had refused the matching slippers, but accepted a strand of coordinated glass beads. These had gone the way of her knife. The little cap that had started the evening pinned to her hair had been missing long before she'd been lured from the dancing.

  Not much to work with. She was wondering if Derian had been as thoroughly disarmed when she heard footsteps on the deck directly above. These stopped and a moment later a square of light appeared off to one side. Almost as soon as it appeared, it was occluded by the shape of a man climbing down the angled steps of a ladder. He was followed by an arm that handed down a lantern, and then the owner of the arm also climbed down. Finally, a third man descended. With a chill, Firekeeper recognized the dark man.

  Blind Seer and Derian were well and truly out of it, and she decided it would be to her advantage to appear at least somewhat disoriented. She debated pretending unconsciousness, but decided against that immediately. Although she had been doing her best to ignore it, she was very thirsty, and if the men did not offer her water, she must ask.

  Another advantage of not pretending to be asleep was that she could see everything they did. So when the circle of lantern light came over by the cages Firekeeper was sitting up, her arms wrapped around her knees, her chin resting on her folded arms.

  "Rarby, hang the lantern up," the dark man said. He spoke Pellish, the language common to Bright Bay and Hawk Haven, but with an accent Firekeeper had never heard before. "I may need your assistance."

  "Right, Harjeedian," Rarby said.

  Rarby was a big man, both tall and broad. The bright blue-and-white-striped sweater he wore emphasized that breadth. His accent was familiar, t
hough with more of the sound of Bright Bay to it, Firekeeper thought. Not surprising, since he and his companion were both obviously sailors and Bright Bay traditionally followed the sea.

  The other man resembled Rarby closely enough that Firekeeper guessed they were brothers. This second man was a touch taller, but not as broad as Rarby. He wore a knit cap in the same blue and white, pulled tight to his ears. His chin seemed both pale and reddish. Firekeeper realized after a moment's thought that he must have very recently shaved off a heavy beard.

  Then she recognized him. The newly shorn man was the one who had lured her from the dancing. Rarby was the man who had cut Derian. She swallowed a growl. They must think her weak.

  Harjeedian saw Firekeeper move and crossed to stand in front of her cage. Firekeeper noticed that he stopped an arm's length away. She didn't think this was accidental. In the lantern light, she got a far better look at him than she had at their first encounter.

  He was of medium height, his build slim, though lithe and muscular. His jet black hair was very straight, parted in the center, left to hang loose to just above his shoulders. The blunt weight of it emphasized the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the tilt of his eyes, so that the eyes seemed squashed to slits between cheekbone and eyebrow. His skin was a deep, warm brown, without the extensive weathering evident on both the sailors, so she thought the darker color must be natural.

  "How do you feel?" Harjeedian asked in his precise Pellish.

  Firekeeper paused before answering. Let them think her slow.

  "Not good," she said. "They worse, though. Fox Hair stink and Blind Seer no wake."

  "Put your arm through the bars where I can reach it," Harjeedian said. "I need to feel the pulses."

  Firekeeper had seen Doc do this, and knew degrees of health could be read through the art. She had tried to learn it, but never was certain she felt any pulse but her own. Reluctantly, she thrust her arm through the bars, determined to seem cowed.

  Harjeedian grasped her wrist in one long-fingered, lightly callused hand, positioned his fingers, and stared at nothing.

  "Somewhat fast," he said, "but nothing to worry about. Does your head hurt?"

  "Much," Firekeeper lied.

  "Hmm. I thought I judged the dose better than that. I understood that you did not drink alcohol. I must have misjudged the relative ratio of muscle to fat."

  Firekeeper stared at him. The words were Pellish, but made little sense to her. All she was certain of was that Harjeedian didn't think she should have a headache.

  "I'm thirsty," she whined.

  "That could account for the headache," Harjeedian said. "Shelby, draw water for Lady Blysse—while you're at it, draw enough for all of our guests."

  The man in the knit cap nodded and left. His steps were quick, and Firekeeper was certain he was glad to be away.

  What is he afraid of? she thought. Me? I am locked. Perhaps he fears Harjeedian. Harjeedian gives the orders.

  Harjeedian let her hand drop and stepped back from the cage.

  "Has Derian Counselor or the wolf awakened?"

  "Derian did, for a little. Blind Seer, no."

  She heard the worry in her own voice. Harjeedian looked pleased.

  "The wolf still sleeps? Very good. I will look to him last. First, the king's counselor."

  He walked to where Derian lay sprawled on the deck, knelt, and lifted the young man's head. As before, Harjeedian spoke his conclusions aloud, though Firekeeper was uncertain just who was intended to be his audience. Rarby never responded to anything said, nor did Harjeedian seem to expect a response.

  "Breathing. That's good. A bit shallow. Vomit on mouth and face, but not sufficient to choke him. The purge worked as planned then, but there must have been too much alcohol already in his blood."

  Derian moaned, stirred, and tried to sit up. Harjeedian did not restrain him, and Derian succeeded in propping himself onto one elbow. The chain securing his ankle clanked as he moved.

  "Who the… What?" Derian managed rather incoherently. "Firekeeper?"

  He blinked and his hazel eyes focused on Harjeedian. He paused as he registered the unfamiliar face, Rarby standing a few paces beyond, and Shelby coming from above with waterskins slung over his shoulders and a bucket in one hand.

  "Who are you?" Derian asked, sounding more angry than afraid.

  "Harjeedian will do," the man said, leaning forward to grasp Derian's free wrist. "I am your escort."

  "Escort?" Derian wrested his wrist free and pulled himself into a sitting position. "Kidnapper is more like it! Escort where? To whom? Did you ever think about issuing more usual invitations?"

  "The ones who sent me do not think that way. They desire something, and what they desire will be acquired for them. You will learn more of this in time."

  Harjeedian smiled and Firekeeper was uneasily aware that this man was dangerous.

  She was also unhappily aware that Harjeedian had spoken of whoever it was he served as "they." In the back of her mind she had thought that their enemy was somehow connected to Queen Valora of the Isles, but Valora would never be mistaken for more than one. Her husband was most definitely not a power who could be spoken of in one breath with her as one might Princess Sapphire and her consort, Prince Shad.

  Harjeedian extended his hand for Derian's wrist.

  "Cooperate with me and I will do what I can to eliminate any physical discomfort you are feeling. The dosage of the drug my agent administered to you could only be estimated. I could not account accurately for the alcohol in your system and though I took measures to ascertain that you would not be harmed, I could not… "

  "Who are you!" Derian roared, surging to his feet. "I want answers."

  "You want something for your headache," Harjeedian said, rising with effortless grace. "You want a bath and clean clothing. I can obtain these things for you, but only if you cooperate."

  Derian stared down at Harjeedian, but for all the difference in their heights—Derian was a very tall man—to Firekeeper it seemed that Harjeedian was the larger. Perhaps Derian too felt the force of the dark man's personality. Perhaps he simply became aware of Rarby standing ready a few paces away, or felt the weight of the chain around his ankle, but Derian suddenly held very still.

  He thrust out his arm, wrist turned upward. Harjeedian smiled slightly and took it.

  "Quick and erratic," he commented. "No great surprise there."

  He raised a hand to Derian's forehead.

  "Damp. Fever broken, though. You are a strong young man. I think even without my assistance you would soon be in good form. Shelby, did you bring sufficient water for washing?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good. Pour a little into this cup, then give a wet rag to Counselor Derian. You can handle the deck."

  For Firekeeper, the next few minutes were almost dreamlike in their ordered practicality. Derian washed, then was given a change of clothes, and a cup into which Harjeedian had mixed some powder. Shelby thoroughly scrubbed the stinking deck; then the damp area was covered with a heap of clean straw. A blanket was placed over that, and Derian was invited to sit. He did so without comment, his movements so contained that Firekeeper wondered if he were feeling ill once more.

  "There is a covered pail for waste behind you," Harjeedian concluded. "I suggest you use it, if at all possible. Now I shall look to the wolf."

  From inside his shirt, Harjeedian pulled a chain that glittered gold in the lantern light. He removed one key from a small assortment that hung upon a ring and tucked the rest away again.

  "Rarby, Shelby, ready the crossbows. Rarby, orient yours on Lady Blysse, Shelby, on the wolf."

  As much as Firekeeper hated Harjeedian for his foresight, she also had to admire him. There was a distinct possibility that if Blind Seer attacked their captors he could take out all three men before any injuries he took significantly slowed him—and although she hated to admit it, his devotion to her was such that he might well risk his own life to win her freedom.
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br />   Rarby moved to where any shot from his bow would be instantly fatal for Firekeeper.

  "Ready, Harjeedian."

  Shelby grunted his own readiness.

  Harjeedian turned to Firekeeper before stepping close to Blind Seer's locked cage.

  "I think he is still asleep, but if he is not, I suggest you tell him of my arrangements."

  Firekeeper did not say a word. She had resolved some time before that her early attempts to convince humans of the intelligence of her Royal Beast companions had been an error. What she would not admit to in the company of allies she would not do in front of enemies.

  Harjeedian's thin lips shaped a small, humorless smile. Without further comment, he opened the cage and went inside.

  Almost without volition, Firekeeper found herself drawn close to the bars of her own cage, as close as she could get to the wolf. She heard Derian gasp, and knew that her movement must have startled Rarby as well, but the crossbow remained unfired.

  Harjeedian placed his hand on Blind Seer's head, peeled the lid back from the wolf's eye and inspected the pupil, grunted something, then inspected the gum, pressing the skin above the shining white fangs. He pushed back fur to expose the skin below and pinched there, then lifted the bushy weight of the tail and inspected beneath. Examination completed, he rose to his feet and left the cage.

  After Harjeedian had locked the door behind him, he said, "The wolf is somewhat dehydrated, not surprisingly, given the amount of time he has slept. It will be to your advantage if you convince him to drink when he awakens."

  "You not," Firekeeper asked, "make him sleep again?"

  "Not yet, at least," Harjeedian replied. "There would be no advantage in that. You will be fed and given fresh water to drink for the duration of our voyage. Later, there will be opportunities for exercise as well. However, let me make clear here and now that the quality of the food and the quantity of the exercise will be awarded in proportion to your good behavior."

  Firekeeper blinked, tilting her head to one side in confusion.

  Derian gave a dry cough of a laugh. "You'll get fed better if you don't give them any trouble."