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In view of the rapacious nature of the wolfling pack known as the Raiders, I, Meuril Sor, declare the usual bounty of three white cowries tripled for any wolf known to belong to a Raider, and the usual bounty of five white cowries increased to twenty speckled cowries for the capture or proven death of Fenrah Ausla. The bounty will be fifteen speckled cowries for the wolflings Sham Ausla, Sevn of Ivernees, Xerous of Palamine, Lyli of Palamine, Talis of Ivernees, Danzel, Hualien, or any additional members of the Raider pack.
—Book of Bounty Laws, edict by Meuril Sor, Summer 1697
Corry woke to birdsong and a cascade of sunlight streaming through his window. Capricia! He had been angry the night before—as much at himself for reaching into his pocket earlier as at Capricia for taking the flute—but now he felt only a vague panic. In the morning light, he could see that his window opened several stories above a landscaped courtyard. Corry gauged the distance to the ground, but decided that a jump would hurt him.
Fauns had brought him supper and a bath the night before, and he saw that they’d left him breakfast this morning. Corry dressed quickly, helping himself to the tray of fruit and bowl of deer’s milk. Without much hope, he tried the door...and the handle turned. Whoever brought my breakfast must have forgotten to lock it.
Corry opened the door and stepped into the empty hall. He made his way through the airy, sunlit passages, trying to remember the route Capricia had taken. He met an occasional faun, but no one stopped him. A few songbirds were beginning to flit playfully in and out of the rooms when he found a row of tapestries that he remembered. I’m near the throne room.
Corry hurried on, having some vague idea that he would talk to the king and tell him the truth. He soon came out of a passage and saw the silver banister and the staircase descending into the huge antechamber. As he started down, a faun holding a drawn sword burst through one of the doors below and bounded up the stairs.
The stranger was wearing a white tunic and purple cape. He was much paler than the other fauns Corry had seen. His curling, golden hair fell to his shoulders, and as he swept past, Corry caught a glint of blue eyes. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he raced to the first window, put his hoof on the sill, and stretched out as far out as he could reach. Corry saw that he had curly white fur. “The roof! Hurry!”
A dozen other pale, blond fauns charged up the stairs. Corry pressed himself against the banister as they whisked past to follow the first, who had already disappeared. A memory stirred. They’re a different kind of faun. It annoyed him that he could not identify them.
Corry started walking more quickly and reached the foot of the stairs. As he moved across the antechamber towards the throne room, he caught faint sounds from outside—shouts and the ringing of bells. This is very odd.
Then a shadow appeared in a patch of sunlight at his feet. He glanced up and was slapped in the face by the descending end of a rope. As he watched, someone dropped out of one of the windows around the dome and began to shimmy down. The sun was in his eyes, and he could not see the climber clearly. About three-fourths of the way down, the shelt let go and jumped, rolling away from Corry with a clatter of steel. Corry blinked at the sword.
The newcomer was two-legged and had tufted ears, but she was certainly no faun. She had large paws rather than hooves. Silver gray hairs flecked the cinnamon brown fur of her legs, and a thick, bushy tail bristled behind her. Her breath came quick and hard.
Something clicked in Corry’s mind. He remembered how Capricia had explained him to her father. She said that wolflings burned my village. This is a wolfling, a wolf shelt. Capricia is a deer shelt. That fellow in the purple cape is a sheep shelt. I remember!
Corry held out his hands. “I’m unarmed,” he said.
“Stay still,” she rasped. She wore a sleeveless brown tunic, and a thin sword belt. Corry thought she looked no older than he and perhaps younger. Her eyes might have been golden, but now they were almost black, the pupils dilated with fear.
BANG! Doors flew open. Fauns poured down both staircases, while archers drew their weapons along the balcony. Fauns with swords and bows swarmed around the perimeter of the room. Corry caught sight of the faun with the purple cape.
The wolfling’s eyes darted in one direction and then another.
Someone on the balcony shouted, “Don’t shoot!” It was Capricia. She was glaring at Corry, but she continued. “You’ll kill my guest!”
“Then tell him to get out of the way...” murmured Purple Cape.
Suddenly the wolfling bolted toward the only remaining exit—the main door of the castle. Fauns charged along the perimeter of the wall like giant pincers closing. Corry let out a long breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. A few arrows sang over his head and clattered along the floor, but none struck the fleeing wolfling.
For a moment Corry thought she would escape, but just as she reached the main doors they flew open. The wolfling was running too fast to stop, and she all but collided with the first faun through the door. Their swords were singing before anyone could intervene.
The faun was Syrill. His hooves made little clicking noises as he ducked and dodged, the green feather of his hat dancing like an excited bird. The wolfling was obviously outmatched, and he pushed her steadily backwards.
The fauns had now formed a complete ring around the fighters. No escape. Soon Syrill was fighting right next to the dangling rope. Corry saw the end twitch. He shouted, but no one was listening. The next instant Syrill hit the ground, struck by a wolfling who had slid partway down the rope and leapt on him from above. The two rolled over in a blur of brown and gray.
They came to a stop, crouching. The wolfling had an arm around Syrill’s chest and a sword against his throat. Syrill’s sword had been knocked from his grasp.
The new wolfling was male and looked at least ten years older than the female. “Up,” he breathed and jerked Syrill to his feet. “Talis?”
“Sir?” answered the girl-wolfling, still watching the crowd.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.”
The male wolfling nodded. “Walk.” He pushed a rigid Syrill toward the door, but fauns blocked his way. “Move!” he shouted. Some of the darker-skinned fauns obeyed, but not the pale strangers. The wolfling whirled to the faun in the purple cape. “Tell them to get out of my way, or I’ll kill him.”
The faun’s jaw was working, and he took a step forward. The wolfling pressed his sword hard enough against Syrill’s throat to draw a trickle of blood. “I’m not bluffing, Chance.”
“Move.” The faun called Chance growled the word. “Get out of his way.” His furious eyes returned to the wolfling. “I’ll have your pelt, Sham. But first I’ll hang you from the highest scaffold in Panamindorah.”
The wolfling ignored him and moved toward the doors. He was having some trouble with Syrill. Talis circled round to guard Sham’s back. Suddenly, Chance leapt forward, and his sword met Talis’s with a clash. She parried with such force that he staggered and her momentum carried her briefly into the crowd. The next thing Corry knew, he was stumbling backward with one arm twisted painfully behind him. He saw Chance backing away uncertainly. “Sham,” came Talis’s voice behind Corry’s head, “we’ve got another.”
The instant they were clear of the castle’s portico, the wolflings broke into a run. Corry could hear the shouts of pursuing fauns. Wolflings afoot would have been no match for mounted fauns, and Corry felt a flutter of hope. Then two enormous wolves shot across the plaza. They were as large as small ponies. The teeth flashing in their panting mouths were as long as Corry’s fingers. Corry dug in his heels, and Talis had to drag him the last few yards.
Sham was still having difficulty with Syrill, who kept lashing out with his hooves, twisting, biting, and shouting. At last Sham struck him on the head with the flat of his sword. Syrill staggered. Sham hoisted him onto the back of a wolf, then leapt up behind. Talis’s wolf came up behind Corry, tipped its nose between his legs, and stood, letting Corry slide neatly onto its back.
Bells were ringing all over the city as the wolves left the castle complex. They fled through Laven-lay, making use of the parks and gardens. Talis pulled something like twine from her pack as they road and made a swift slip-knot around Corry’s wrists, tying them in front. Her own hands were shaking, her breathing ragged against the back of his neck. She jerked the knot painfully tight.
At some point Corry realized that a third wolf and rider had joined them. She was older than Talis and her dirty blond hair hung down her back in a tail as bushy as any wolf’s. “Danzel?” she growled.
“I know,” muttered Sham. “He almost got Talis killed, and now we have hostages.”
The new wolfling eyed Syrill in a way that made Corry’s hair prickle. “Kill them.”
Sham shook his head. “Not Syrill. Not without Fenrah’s consent.”
“Then leave them.”
Sham shook his head. “We might need them again. This isn’t over.”
Corry saw the white outer wall of the city rising out of the trees ahead. Then branches slapped him in the face as the wolves plowed into a thicket. They stopped abruptly, and Corry saw a freshly excavated tunnel, the brush beaten down around it.
Sham sprang from his wolf and pulled Syrill to the ground. He threw away the faun’s sword belt. As Corry watched, Sham rifled through the pockets of Syrill’s tunic. He stopped suddenly and held up something small and silvery, then shoved it into his own pocket.
A new wolfling scrambled out of the tunnel. “We’re almost ready down here. Lyli said that you have an unconscious faun. I’ve arranged transport.”
“Sevn, have you seen Danzel?”
The new wolfling shook his head. “What’s wrong?”
Sham sat down in the dirt. “Danzel wasn’t at his post. I had a run-in with Chance, and he’s got my hackles up.”
“Chance!” Sevn flung a handful of rope out of the tunnel. “What’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know. This whole raid has been a disaster.”
“Really?” asked Talis quietly.
Sham glanced at her and flashed a toothy grin. “We’ll see.”
Sevn was frowning. “Do you suppose someone told—?”
“No. Laylan probably found the diggings.” Sham grimaced. “He’s getting better.”
A leaf crunched, and Sham spun around. On the edge of the clearing stood a small wolfling who didn’t look older than ten. He wore a baggy, mud-stained gray tunic, weighted on one side with a sword that looked too big for him. Corry caught sight of a bulging satchel attached to his belt opposite the sword. The child held his hands behind his back, his ears angled sharply backwards. His outsized paws pushed against each other nervously.
“Danzel!” Sham barked. Then, more softly, “Pup, where have you been? Lyli didn’t find you, and Talis had no way of getting off the roof. She was chased and nearly killed. We had to drop through the ceiling! Danzel, where were you?”
“I’m sorry, Sham.” His voice came soft and squeaky. “I just... I saw... There was this...and he had...and it...”
Sham took the youngster by the shoulders. “What happened?”
“I saw a faun with a satchel on his belt, and it looked heavy. It clinked.”
Sham let out his breath and put his head down.
Danzel continued. “And I followed him. And he went into a big house. I stalked him. I was so quiet! You would have been proud of me. I was so quiet!”
“Danzel!” growled Sham, raising his head and shaking the youngster so hard the satchel tinkled. “We didn’t come here for cowries!”
“How about gold?” asked Danzel cheerfully. “How about ten gold pieces, and I didn’t even count how many cowries. There’s silver. Pearls too!”
Sham opened his mouth, but then Danzel brought his hands from behind his back. “And I found this.” Danzel was holding a violin. He thrust it into Sham’s hands. Sunlight falling through the trees lit on the polished, gracefully curving wood and made it glow golden.
“It’s what I was looking for,” continued Danzel softly. “I couldn’t get the bow.” He looked anxiously at Sham. “But you could make that, couldn’t you?”
Sham stood up suddenly and turned around so that Danzel couldn’t see his face. Corry saw him cover his mouth with one hand and shut his eyes. A single large tear rolled down over his fingers. Then he rubbed his hand hard over his face and turned around.
“What you did was wrong. You were not there for Talis when she needed you. We hold each other’s lives in our hands, and if you don’t do your part... Talis and I could both be dead.”
Danzel’s eyes clouded. “I’m sorry. I only wanted—”
“You must obey orders!” Sham took the violin in both hands and broke it over his knee.
Danzel flinched. His bushy tail dropped down limp behind him.
Sham dropped the broken instrument and pointed to it. “Our lives. That’s what almost happened to them.”
Danzel stared at the ground. “Yes, sir.”
By this time Sevn had already urged the three wolves down the tunnel. He cleared his throat and said softly. “We need to hurry. Lyli is keeping watch at the far end.”
Sham nodded. “Go and tell her we’re ready, Danzel.”
Danzel darted down the tunnel.
As soon as he was gone, Talis stepped over to the violin and picked it up. “This was a good one.” She inspected it minutely. “A very good one.” Sham turned away. “You didn’t have to break it,” said Talis.
“Yes, I did.” He would not look at the violin.
Syrill’s eyes were just beginning to flutter groggily when a sack went over his head. Sevn tied his legs to the line going into the hole. He gave a couple of jerks, and Syrill slithered into the darkness. Sevn followed him and Talis came behind. A moment later, Danzel appeared to say that Lyli had secured Syrill. She and Talis were on their way back to camp, and Sevn was keeping watch at the end of the tunnel.
Sham turned to Corry. “Make things difficult for us, and we’ll kill you—one shout, one snatch for a weapon, and you’re dead. You’re not that valuable. Do you understand?”
Corry nodded.
Sham cut loose his hands and pointed to the tunnel. “Crawl.”
Corry crawled. He could see almost nothing in the tunnel, and he went along hesitantly, feeling his way over protruding tree roots and clods of earth. Behind, he heard Danzel’s voice. “Something else happened this morning.”
“Oh?” Sham sounded suspicious.
“Laylan chased me.”
“What?”
“I think he found my tracks near the castle wall where I was supposed to be waiting. He must have followed me, because when I came out of the faun’s house, he nearly shot me. I ran, and he chased me all the way to the royal grain sheds.”
“Was he on Shyshax?” asked Sham. “Danzel, are you making this up?”
“No! He wasn’t on Shyshax. I ran into a shed. It was one of the smaller ones, only half full. I ran out before he could get behind the grain, and I shut the door. It locked!”
Sham began to chuckle. “You locked Laylan in a grain shed?”
“Yes.” Corry could hear the grin in Danzel’s voice. “It only had one window in the top.”
Sham was laughing hard now. “No wonder they haven’t found us. They probably haven’t even found Laylan.”
