Chapter Five

Treachery From Within

Men hunted him.

 

Far to the north he ran, his every rib showing, his jet fur hanging off him like an ill-fitting coat. As I watched, he jumped a small herd of deer and lunged in for the kill. The alert and watchful sentry bolted, alarming the group into nimble leaps that carried them into the forest and safely out of danger. He paused in the depths of the night, panting, his long tongue pink and hanging almost to his massive chest as his prey outdistanced him and escaped.

That explained everything. Why he went into a town, a tavern, risking being recognized and perhaps captured. His gaunt frame, his air of desperation: he had no idea of how to hunt down his food. He literally starved to death on his immense paws. Unless he killed soon, he’d be dead.

In the distance, hounds bayed.

His huge head lifted, ears perked, his tongue caught between his fangs. Over his shoulder he stared, not toward me, but toward the source of the sounds. He heard the cry of the hunt.

They hunted him.

He escaped Ja’Teel, but would he escape these pursuers?

Gathering his paws under him, Raine began to run.

On he loped, his pink tongue lolling, his breath frosting the chilly night air. His claws found purchase on the stones, the loamy soil, the raw, white skeletons of trees long dead. Under the trees of fir, balsam, spruce and pine his body burst, galloping headlong down one hill and up the next. Each valley he raced across held no sanctuary, no safety for him. No hilltop he crested but revealed his immense form under the light of the moon to those who followed.

He knew the trackers weren’t far behind.

Who were they? Tongu? I discarded that idea: their hounds didn’t bay. I suspected local people, tribal hunters, simple people who owed no allegiance to anyone but themselves. Mountain folk dressed in the warm skins of their prey out hunting game. They’d seen his tracks in the soil. Through the pines they had glimpsed his immense size, the black jet of his hide. Preoccupied with his troubles, Raine hadn’t heard or scented them as he loped across their territory. Instantly, the primitive hunters craved the greatest prize: the pelt of the largest black wolf that ever walked the earth. A small portion of his fur would cover a bed and keep its occupants warm until spring’s blessed sun emerged from behind winter’s thick clouds.

Spurring their thin, bony horses onward, they tracked my black wolf over rocks, dead pine and fir needles, ice and chilling running water. Their baying coursers, noses to the ground, led the chase over hills and across small valleys, under covering thickets and through knots of pine forest. No matter how he ran, they followed after, gaining ground with every passing hour.

I think I screamed. A warning. A choked off cry. A ‘look out behind you’.

I made no sound. Yet my dear love paused, mid-stride, atop a stony hilltop, looking up and back. Not toward the approaching hunters and their baying dogs. South, he stared, icy grey eyes now not so cold.

He stared toward me. He saw me.

Gasping, I sat up, my warm fur sliding off my shoulder, chilling me instantly in the icy mountain air. Tuatha whined in his sleep, perhaps from the very same dream that had just awakened me. Digger sat up, still half-asleep, his snarl frozen as he glanced about for enemies, the reason for my alarm. Bar raised his head from his front legs, blinking. Yawning, he chirped quietly, softly: What’s wrong?

I sweated and shivered, my tears like tiny icy stones rolling down my cheeks to pool at my mouth.

Reclaiming my blanket, I pulled it up, instinctively glancing east to gauge the time. Pink tinged the distant horizon, half-blocked by thick pine trees and their evergreen needles. T’was less than an hour before sunrise.

Sluggish, still half-asleep, Tuatha crawled into my lap, seeking my warmth. I cuddled his body close, rocking back and forth as I glanced about the slowly wakening camp. I wiped the ice crystals from my cheeks, seeing my breath as a light frost against the darkness. Digger, finding nothing wrong, yawned sleepily and swiped my cheek with his tongue, warming it.

Arianne, already awake and up, glanced at me curiously as she stirred up the fire and added wood. Her slave habits hadn’t changed at all, I thought.

Corwyn was right all along: I should never have allowed her to continue serf’s work. I should demand she behave like a princess. And I would. Starting now. Just as soon as I pulled myself together.

My boys rolled from their pallets, sitting up, huddling under the thick mixture of wool blankets and skins for a while longer. Blearily, they glanced around, smothering yawns. Wolves uncurled themselves from the furry balls they became in the darkest part of the night, tongues hanging low as they, too, yawned and stretched.

Bar eyed me with concern, his second questioning chirp loud in the silent darkness before the dawn. I wrapped my wooly, warm blanket around me tighter, covering Tuatha fully, still shivering uncontrollably. Shivering harder than the climate warranted, given I sat within the warm boundaries of Bar, Digger, Thunder and small Tuatha the Younger.

I shrugged under Bar’s predatory eyes. I had no answer for him.

Was the dream real? Was it the mistaken fantasies of my overwrought and overstressed mind? Or maybe they represented nothing more than plain and very simple wishful thinking? Perhaps the dreams were indeed false prophecies. Perhaps in my gut they meant nothing but the lonely idea that I had been left behind like so much useless baggage.

He’s too smart to be hunted by a band of primeval hunters with no more brains than Nephrotiti gave a common weed, I told myself. He’d outsmart them, or simply kill them, if they proved troublesome.

Reality closed with a rush. The dream faded, grew dim and at last winked out. I stretched, not trying to stifle the huge yawn that consumed me. The dream unraveled under the pale flush of the new day, as dreams will. It shriveled and vanished. Only the vague memory of a memory remained of the night’s vision in the darkest of the night. And with it, I felt the worm of disquiet deep within my heart.

Of course he didn’t need me.

Depression sank its fangs into my soul despite the beauty of the early autumn day. Birds woke and chirped, announcing their territory preferences before breakfast. Mikk slept on. In the midst of the horse herd, he dozed, knees locked and hip-shotten, and undisturbed. Kel’Ratan grumbled under his breath, cursing the early hour. He rolled over, his back to me, his front facing the glowing orange coals of last night’s fire. Left and Lightfoot, side by side, returned from their midnight to dawn watch.

Like Arianne the night before, I snapped my fingers, obtaining everyone’s sleepy attention.

“You,” I said, trying to sound imperious around another jaw-cracking yawn, “are a princess. No more camp work for you. Except, of course, the work we all do to provide meat and skins for the coming northern winter.”

Arianne’s face fell. “But – “

“Don’t ‘but’ me,” I tried to snap. “You have to learn to be what you are. Tor, build up that fire before I freeze my ass.”

Tor emerged from his warm nest, of course between Yuri and Yuras. He bowed over his own yawn, and with his blanket over his shoulders, seized a few faggots from the pile and dropped them on the fire. Arianne slid out of the way, hiding behind her hair. With nothing to do to occupy herself, she felt lost and alone.

“Girl, come here,” I said.

Pushing on Thunder, I urged him to vacate a space. He obliged after a long stretch, his rump high in the air and forelegs long in front of him. His tongue dropped halfway to the ground as his jaws parted in a yawn so huge I think he could have swallowed Arianne whole. He ambled off into the woods on the heels of Kip, Warrior Dog, Dire, and Scatters Them. A bit more awake, I made a come-hither gesture to Arianne and patted the ground Thunder just emptied. At my other side, Silverruff offered a half-growl, half-moan and covered his eyes with his paw.

“I don’t care if you’re not a morning wolf,” I said crossly. “Get up.”

Rather than obey, he rolled over, onto his other side away from me, and drifted back to sleep. I quelled the urge to kick him and pulled a reluctant Arianne down beside me.

“Witraz,” I said. “You and Rannon help Tor with breakfast. Yuri, Yuras, Left, Right gather the horses and start saddling them. Kel’Ratan, get up before I sic Silverruff on you.”

Lifting his head a fraction, Kel’Ratan rolled one eye toward a soundly sleeping Silverruff. “Right, sure,” he replied groggily before collapsing once more into slumber.

“Nahar,” I snapped.

At least he had sense enough to obey me. And he obeyed with the right amount of humor. He leaped with all the energy of a stallion chasing a shy mare.

When Nahar’s huge weight dropped on his vulnerable body with claws and teeth exposed, Kel’Ratan roared. Flailing about himself with his hands, he failed to dislodge Nahar, who rode his back as a man might ride a bucking bronco. White fangs gripped Kel’Ratan’s neck without harm, but with enough force to make my cousin howl.

“Get off me, you stinking cur,” he all but screamed, trying to roll over and onto the wolf, his hands seeking Nahar’s vulnerable throat. Nahar, far too clever for that, jumped aside. His tail wagging furiously, he nipped Kel’Ratan’s exposed arse, and nimbly leaped aside. Kel’Ratan did scream, this time.

“I am so going to kill you!”

Fully awake, enraged, Kel’Ratan rose to his feet, trying in vain to draw a sword that wasn’t there. It lay where he left it, on the ground beside the spot where he slept. Nahar, of course, stood over it.

Taking a deep breath, Kel’Ratan glowered at the happily wagging Nahar. “Damn hound,” he grated, his mustache standing on end.

Nahar barked. I’m no hound.

“You’re a bloody, slavish hound,” Kel’Ratan snarled, with a furious glance toward me. “If you’re stupid enough to listen to her.”

I shrugged indolently. “He merely obeys his pack leader,” I said. “And that would be me.”

With a final dark glare, Kel’Ratan stalked away, muttering under his breath. Nahar, no slouch, trotted after him, tail still waving.

I glanced down. Silverruff still lay on his side, but with his head over his shoulder. He eyed me with worry, his tongue moistening his quivering black nose.

“Yes,” I growled at him. “I’m the one in charge here. Get up, you lazy sod, before I call Thunder.”

With a whine, he languidly rose to his paws and stretched. I lifted my hand. Yelping, Silverruff jumped to the side and vanished into the woods. Digger eyed me with amusement and respect. With another yawn and a lupine stretch, he ambled off into the trees.

I met Arianne’s astonished gaze with a shrug. “Easy once you know how.”

She giggled. Tuatha reminded me of his presence by stirring and whining faintly. Translating his sounds that his bladder was about to burst, I set him on the ground. Black nose to the ground, he waddled a distance away.

Leaving him to his privacy, I turned once more to Arianne. “It’s time you learned to be a princess,” I said, smoothing her midnight hair from her brow.

“I – I don’t know how,” she stammered, her blue-grey eyes clouded with worry.

“I’ll teach you, sweetling,” I said. “I know it comes hard, but you must allow yourself to be waited upon.”

I couldn’t have timed my words more perfectly. The instant they left my lips, Tor knelt with a warm trencher of roasted meat, complete with gravy, white cheese, and nuts. Rannon, a fraction behind him, also knelt to offer the shiny hanaps of cold, clear water to both of us.

“See?” I said, accepting the offerings and handing Arianne her share. “Just relax and let what comes naturally come, er, naturally.”

“But,” she began, anxiously. "It’s not natural to me. I’m born to serve, not be served.”

I took her chin in my fingers, forcing her to look deep into my eyes. “I know,” I said softly. “But our survival depends on your innate ability to command others. If you act the slave, we’ll die. Do you understand?”

She nodded, trying to pull away from me, tears swimming in her glorious, miserable eyes.

“Arianne.” I pulled her close, into a tight embrace. With her head against my breasts and my chin buried in her hair, I spoke again, my tone, my voice even quieter.

“Rulers do serve,” I murmured. “They serve their people. You may be of the blood royal, but that’s a fart in a hurricane if you don’t protect and serve those under your stewardship. They’ll count on you in ways you, right now, have no comprehension exist. They need you to be strong, to be courageous, to be a leader. Not only to they want it, they crave your leadership as they crave food. As they crave drink with which they slake their thirst. They want only your guidance, your protection, your ability to lead them.”

I rocked her, moving back and forth, slowly, gently.

“You think of yourself as a slave,” I went on. “And so you are. As am I. Slaves to the needs of our people.”

I pushed her away from me for a moment, my fingers running through her glossy midnight tresses. Solemn eyes, desperate eyes, huge in a pale tiny face watched me with hope, confusion and a strange, awful eagerness. As though I had spoken the words of her heart.

“They call us ‘Your Highness’. Or ‘Your Majesty’. We may even appear majestic and high, to them. We are but servants. Even though they offer up for us food, with wine, offer up their very lives, we, in truth, serve them far more. Ours is the responsibility to feed, to clothe, to repay their loyalty with devotion in far greater quantity. Do you understand?”

Arianne’s huge, grey-blue eyes left mine and wandered about the now busy camp. “I think so,” she murmured.

Glancing back into my face, her smile shone brighter than the rising sun.

“I must be here, for them,” she answered. “Even if it means sacrificing my own life.”

I hugged her tight, tears stinging my eyes. “Clever girl,” I murmured against her hair. “Being royal doesn’t mean one must act royal. Your blood is red, the red of common men. Not purple as some would think. My father taught me this. Lead by example and men of every nation will flock to your banner. Let justice be your watchword. Give to them and you shall receive a thousand fold in return. Reward their loyalty with dedication. Repay their lives with honor. Reward disloyalty and treachery with vengeance and death.”

“With courage in your fists and honor in your heart, you will be a true leader indeed.”

“Like you?”

Her words spoken softly and with little emphasis hit me as hard as a hammer to my chest. My breath caught in my throat. Was I all that? Of course not. I spoke words of poetry, but within me lay a bundle of jagged nerves and emotion. I loved a wolf, for Lady’s sake. How was that for stupidity?

I hugged her tighter, my eyes on the bountiful, dancing fire. “I wish,” I said. “I wish indeed.”

Wiping newly frozen tears from my cheeks, I straightened and pushed her gently from me. “Eat now, before it gets cold.”

Did I just say lead by example? When Arianne picked up her bread trencher, she hesitated, glancing toward me with a faint hint of worry puckering her brow. Ice replaced what little appetite I might have had, as the dark dream and its nasty offspring unease had taken up residence in my gut. Forcing a smile, I took up my own rapidly cooling meat and bread and bit into it. I chewed, swallowed, and felt it strike deep with all the force of a granite rock. Arianne ate with far more gusto than she usually showed and actually managed to eat half her trencher. I didn’t even manage that much.

Offering the remainder to the hopeful wolves who returned from their forays into the forest, I picked up Tuatha’s food bag to fill it. Huddled once more under my warm blanket, I sat back down. Tuatha crawled sluggishly into my lap. Before I fed him, I picked him up and gazed deep into his sapphire eyes.

“Tuatha,” I said quietly, but firmly. “You mustn’t growl and snarl and snap at everyone who comes near.”

He whined, a pathetic, heartfelt cry. I hugged him close, tears once more icing my cheeks.

“I know, baby, I know,” I said. “I miss him, too. We all miss your papa. But that’s no excuse for bad behavior. We all must be strong, all of us, until we find him again. You must be strong, too.”

Tuatha growled, a faint vibration against my chest and a faint rumbling from his tiny throat.

“That’s not a good attitude, young wolf,” I admonished. “Do you think your papa would approve of that?”

This time his growl held a strong whine, an angry, yet sorrowful cry of one who felt lost and utterly alone. I could certainly empathize with the grief-stricken baby, for I myself felt the same.

“Come, now,” I said, more brightly. I spoke far more brightly than I felt, anyway. I held him up again, to look into his miserable face. “Let us not always grieve. We will find him soon, I promise. I don’t know when, but with Kip and Shadow and Silverruff all tracking him, we will find him. We just need to solve a few problems first.”

When I mentioned Shadow’s name, his blue eyes clouded with anger, his small lips peeled back in a white snarl. A growl, more deadly than I’ve ever heard from him before, emerged from his small chest and radiated outward like a miniature earthquake. Now this I had to stop.

Shaking him gently, I snarled back. “Cease! This instant.”

I didn’t care that most of the camp’s activity halted at my words. My focus sat entirely upon the furious baby I sat nose to nose with. I knew, deep down, if Tuatha’s enmity weren’t calmed soon, his hatred of the good-natured, amiable Shadow would grow such roots it could never be expelled. I dreaded to think of what would happen when Tuatha grew to adulthood with such a deep-rooted animosity. If his size as a weak and helpless whelp were any judge, Tuatha would far outstrip Shadow in mass and strength as an adult. If I could save Shadow’s life later, I would have to resort to stern measures now.

Tuatha’s snarl ceased at my stern command. When I held his attention fully, I scowled. “Now listen here, youngling,” I growled as a wolf might. “Shadow did as he was bade. Remember Elder? Elder, and through him, Darius our god, commanded Shadow take you from your papa. To keep you safe. Do you hear me? To keep you safe.”

Tuatha whined, his fuzzy ears trying to flatten. He struggled in my grip, wanting down. I refused both his plea and his struggles, and held him fast, his blue eyes locked with mine.

“Papa wasn’t himself that night,” I said. “He needed to know it was all right to be a wolf. Shadow didn’t want to see you, Papa’s chosen son, get hurt. Do you understand me?”

Tuatha cried again, denying my words, denying everything from that night save Shadow’s teeth in his ruff, carrying him from his adopted and beloved papa.

“It’s true, baby,” I said, tears once more coursing down my cheeks. The rising sun at least kept them from freezing this time. “You mustn’t blame Shadow for that night. That would be wrong and dishonorable and not wolfish. He protected you. He loves you. He loves Papa’s chosen son.”

If a wolf could cry tears, Tuatha would have shed many in that moment. He struggled to be released. When I put him down, he crawled into my lap, whimpering uncontrollably. My own tears wetting his head, I bent over him, petting his downy fur, stroking his small ears, murmuring nonsense words one always managed to find to comfort the sick, the hopeless, the bereaved. Tuatha was all of them and more. He felt lost, utterly forsaken, and alone among strangers. Shadow was but the object of the rage he felt at being left behind, for being abandoned. I knew this, because his emotions mirrored my own.

Raine, I thought, holding the crying pup close. You have a lot to answer for.

Though all my attention was given to the suffering whelp in my lap, I knew the camp listened with more consideration than I thought the situation warranted. Perhaps I spoke for them as well, for who among them did not resent Raine for abandoning them? I know I certainly did.

“Hush, baby,” I murmured, still stroking his quivering body. “I know. We all know. We all hurt, same as you. We all love him, same as you.”

Raising my head, I scowled faintly at the frozen activity. Warriors and wolves all sat or stood transfixed as I tried to comfort one who, until now, refused comfort. I jerked my head but didn’t speak, my silent command clear: back to work.

They obeyed me instantly. Horses got saddled, bags stuffed with the day’s provender, waterskins filled, breakfast eaten in between chores of breaking camp. Of them all, only Arianne remained beside me. Throughout my stern lesson, she sat without movement or comment, waiting until the heated emotion died away, waiting until Tuatha could once more find pride within himself.

Without the staring eyes intimidating him, Tuatha finally blinked and lifted his head, his whimpers, for the most part, over with. He glanced about, licking his muzzle, his whines still voicing his upset.

“I know, dear one,” I murmured, my hands still caressing. “It’s going to be all right. It’s all good.”

He eyed the deliciously, to him, scented sack and again licked his lips. I smiled. By the gods, he was going to be all right.

“Chow down,” I murmured, holding a fingerful of meaty sludge to his awaiting jaws. “Eat well and grow strong. Be a big, brave wolf.”

Arianne scooted closer, no doubt wishing she could feed him. No time like the present, I thought, lifting the heavy pup from my lap and depositing him in Arianne’s willing arms.

“Arianne will feed you this morning,” I said, handing her his meal sack. “I’ve duties to attend to.”

Kissing the top of his head, I stood up, my thick nappy blanket still wrapped firmly about me. Tuatha devoured his breakfast from Arianne’s delighted fingers, his tail buzzing furiously.

After sitting for so long, my legs cramped until I walked about, easing the soreness. I put a pot of water on the fire’s embers to heat as Mikk ambled in from grazing, free of saddle and bridle. He dropped his muzzle into my hands as caressed his silken face. I liked saddling him myself, and he liked me to saddle him. My boys always tightened his girth too much. After a quick ear rub, I tossed my saddle onto his broad back.

I glanced up at the lack of activity around our dismantled camp “What now?” I asked the air in general, wondering who might answer first.

Kel’Ratan, of course, did. I should have known.

“We but wait for Rygel,” Kel’Ratan answered smoothly, his earlier humiliation still fresh in his eyes. I caught him glowering down at Nahar. Nahar ignored him, and scratched an itch behind his ear, hind legs thumping the stony soil. “He’s late, as usual.”

“Your wait is over,” a tired voice spoke from the still darkened rocks just outside camp. “Rygel is here.”

Rygel emerged into the muted light from both the not-quite risen sun and the dancing fire, a fully laden Shardon at his shoulder. Little Bull trotted over the rocks behind him, tail waving. Darkhan loped past them all, happily wagging his entire rear end and grinning. Sighting his beloved, he bounded to her side, eagerly licking her cheeks, his tail still waving madly. Arianne fended him off, a moue of disgust pursing her lips and furrowing her pale brow.

“Leave off, damn it,” she complained. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Darkhan licked the top of Tuatha’s head. I half-expected a new snarl to emerge, but perhaps my lesson was now ingrained. Tuatha ignored his visitor and continued his single-minded activity: swallowing as much mush as Arianne offered to his jaws within the shortest possible time. I couldn’t help it. I grinned.

“And I’m never late,” Rygel added crossly, scowling at Kel’Ratan. “I said I’d be back by dawn.”

“It’s after dawn,” Kel’Ratan corrected with a significant glance at the sun peeping over the peaks over us.

“Don’t bother,” I said, turning back before Rygel puffed himself in righteous indignation and turned my cousin into a radish. “Let him have his petty victories. He has nothing else.”

Ignoring Kel’Ratan’s sudden glare, I took Rygel by the arm and lead him to the fire. Tor, catching my glance, immediately brought warm food and cool water as I pushed Rygel into a sitting position.

“Eat,” I said. “I’ve no doubt you’re hungry.”

“Ravenous is a better word, I’m thinking,” he replied as he accepted the warmed meat, bread and cheese from Tor’s hands with an eagerness that rivaled Tuatha. Straightening, I caressed Shardon’s extended muzzle, brushing aside his thick forelock with my fingers.

His kind brown eyes warmed as we locked gazes. Bending slightly, I kissed him between those gleaming depths. What could I say? On his back, bundled tightly to his saddle, so overburdened with our disguises that I bet Rygel walked all the way back. Rygel? Walking? Think again. He probably turned himself into a hawk and flew while Shardon, Little Bull and Darkhan ran. Considering the distance, had he walked, he’d still be on the road, leagues away.

“Thank you,” I murmured, fondling Shardon’s silken ears. “Without you, we’d be lost.”

“I’ll send my bill,” he replied.

Chuckling, I motioned for anyone watching to come and relieve Shardon of his packs. Instantly, Left, Right, Witraz and Rannon hastily stepped forward. As I took the bridle from his head and rubbed the itchy spots left by the bit, they filled their arms with the clothing necessary for our survival and carried them back toward the fire. They left me with the task of removing the pack saddle from Shardon. I didn’t mind, however, and within moments stripped him of his gear. With a twist of heavy mountain grass, I curried his silver hide, making him sleek again. He thanked me with a nudge to my neck.

“Get some food and some rest, dear one,” I murmured into his muzzle. “It’ll take us some time to outfit ourselves with this stuff.”

Shardon nodded once to me and turned away. Trotting away, he found a nice patch of grass and munched.

Having filled his belly as we worked, Rygel’s eyes closed all by themselves. Though by now the sun stood inches above the mountain peaks, I thrust a blanket at him. “You better get a little sleep,” I said. “It’s going to be a long day.”

Seizing my hand from his shoulder, Rygel touched it briefly to his lips in quick homage. With a tired smile and a longing glance toward Arianne, he curled himself into the blanket next to the fire’s heat and lay down. Within a moment or two, he slept.

I looked around. Arianne cleaned her hands of Tuatha’s breakfast while Tuatha himself nodded, tiny ears slack and blue eyes half-shut. He woke himself, trying to shake off sleep and sit straight, only to have the wicked drowsiness seize him once more. Taking a small fur, I dropped it on him.

“Catch a nap, small one,” I murmured.

He aimed for a small snarl of protest, but my foot nudged him into the depths of the soft doeskin. “Don’t argue with me.”

Grumbling, Tuatha burrowed into its velvety texture. Within a breath, he slept as soundly as Rygel.

With my hands on my hips, I gazed around at the treasures unearthed by my boys. “Well, what have we got?”

“Cloaks, tunics,” Witraz muttered, sorting the heavy woolen garments into piles.

“I think these must be for Her Highness,” Alun said, holding up a heavy brocade travelling gown, split for riding, and a thick scarlet hooded cloak. A small pair of doeskin fur-lined boots completed the ensemble. The gown was pretty, a pale blue color sewn with tiny seed pearls and trimmed in silver lace. The cloak’s deep hood could withstand all but the heaviest rain and keep its owner warm and snug while outdoors. I wondered where Rygel had gotten it, for the gown was splendid enough for the Khalidian court.

Arianne eyed it. “I’m supposed to wear that?”

“You are, my dear,” I answered with a grin. “As your body slave, I’ll help you with all the laces.”

“I think this is your collar,” said Kel’Ratan, holding up a simple leather slave’s collar with a heavy buckle. Thick fur, possibly rabbit, lined the underside. I may have to wear a collar, I thought wryly, but that didn’t mean my throat must chafe.

He tossed it across to me. Working my gold torque from my neck, I sent it winging back to him. “Hide that,” I said. “And yours.”

He grimaced, but obeyed. Taking off his own torque, he buried our signs of royalty deep into his saddlebags.

Slaves didn’t wear steel warrior’s wrist cuffs either. Removing them, and my jewelry, I placed them gently at the bottom of my saddlebag, hoping I’d not be searched.

“When he wakes up.” I nodded toward Rygel. “Get his torque as well. Household stewards aren’t usually royal.”

Rannon tossed Left and Right their collars. “Twin jeweled collars for twin slaves.”

Right and Left scowled in unison, but held the collars up to the light. While not as elaborate as Raine’s had been, diamonds and rubies winked in the new sun’s bright rays. Rygel certainly was resourceful, I thought with admiration. How did he manage to find two such exactly identical collars? The twins themselves seemed pleased, given the lightening of their usual stern facades and the greedy light in their dark eyes.

Yuri, Yuras and Tor argued over cloaks and copper pins, seizing brown and gold tunics and woolen hose that looked like it may fit them. Rannon held up a tunic against his chest, holding it this way and that, gauging its possible size. Kel’Ratan frowned down at a more elegant set of tunics, hose and boots, and a rich mantle of black. He fingered the badge on the mantle.

“Just who is Arianne supposed to be?” he asked.

I eyed the silver crowned boar, rampant, on a field of green with no little dismay. The crown meant royalty. I sincerely doubted a member of the Khalidian royal family would be traipsing about on a pilgrimage. Perhaps Rygel had erred just a bit in stealing that particular emblem.

“If I remember right,” I said slowly, “that’s the sigil of Brutal’s cousin, the Princess Irridi.”

“But,” Kel’Ratan protested, frowning, “isn’t she old? Well, at least older than Arianne?”

I chuckled and swept my hand out over the desert below. “Perhaps they don’t know that part.”

As I buckled my collar about my neck, I nodded toward the rapidly diminishing pile of clothes.

“Do I have something to wear?”

Alun held up two identical tunics of black and silver, with black hose to match. He tossed them to Left and Right. Mumbling a bit under his breath, he found a long wool tunic of plain homespun and threw that to me. I caught it, running my hands over its rough texture. I sighed. A set of heavy breeches followed.

“My skin will suffer sorely,” I murmured.

Grinning, he also tossed me a set of heavy leather boots.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, holding one up. It appeared to be my size, but of thick brown cowhide. They may possibly be warm enough, but as ugly as a mud hut. The things I’m forced to do….

“All right, boys,” I said, standing up with my new clothes in my arms. “Get dressed. Our own clothes go deep into saddlebags with food and gear on top. If we’re searched, we don’t want them found. Load up the gelding with all the extra food and hides, but make it look as though he’s loaded with a royal lady’s travelling stuff.”

“He can’t take much more,” Kel’Ratan said, standing up with his own set of new clothes. “We need more horses. Or a couple of mules.”

“That’ll be our first task,” I said, hauling Arianne up by her arm. “Come, little cat. Let’s take your new gown, this nice hot water and find some privacy.”

Taking her dress and cloak from Alun, and the pot from the fire, we walked a short distance into the forest to change in seclusion. Of course, Silverruff, Digger, Darkhan and Thunder followed. I spun about, pointing my finger at them.

“You boys may be wolves,” I said crossly. “But you’re still boys. We girls will change in private. Understand?”

Four muzzles dropped in wolfish grins. Four rumps settled onto the stony soil. Four tails swept dead leaves and rubbish from side to side in amused wags. I snorted, scowling, and lead Arianne behind a thick clump of pine. We’d no more than unlaced and untied our clothes when a subtle sound tickled my hearing. From behind, I heard a cautious step, the faint sound of a paw on a dead leaf.

“Take one more step, Darkhan,” I warned with a snarl in my tone. “And I’ll hang your hide on my wall.”

A low whine answered me. Leaves swished aside as his rump settled once more onto the ground. Arianne giggled. I glared at her.

“Cease,” I snapped. “You only encourage him.”

Obviously, she took my earlier advice to heart. Arianne lifted her chin proudly. Meeting my glare with her glorious, beautiful eyes, she smiled. “I’ll encourage him if I want to,” she replied simply.

My irritation lifted in an instant. Now that’s what I’m talking about. My fingers under her tiny chin, I grinned down at her. “Very good. I’m proud of you.”

Under my praise, she glowed. Ducking her head, she smiled, white teeth gleaming, and blushed prettily. Her thick midnight hair swung about her face, but she didn’t hide within it depths. She certainly did have a royal rod of steel up her spine, I realized, thinking of Raine and his icy courage. No wonder both Rygel and Darkhan were head over heels in love with her. She was a treasure, indeed.

“Come now,” I said, taking her by the shoulders and turning her about so I could unfasten her laces. “You’re going to be chilly for a short spell. This gown has seen its better days, anyway.”

As I peeled her out of the dress stolen from Adhas, she eyed it with sorrow. “I loved that gown.”

“I know.” I dropped it to the side, and held the heavy brocade for her to step into. I frowned. This stiff gown needed a soft kirtle to go under it. Any aristocrat would have one.

“Thunder?” I called.

A low growl answered me.

“Go see if there is a kirtle to go with this.”

His growl rose on a question.

“Wake Rygel and ask him. If there is, bring it back, please. Before she freezes.”

Brush broke and splintered under the weight of Thunder’s huge body crashing through it. Arianne shivered in the cold air, her teeth chattering. Before her lips could turn blue, I offered her the warm water and a cloth to wash with. After a very hasty bath, I wrapped her in the warm cloak and rubbed her arms and back. “Move about a little and you’ll stay warm.”

Arianne danced about, trying to keep warm while I skinned out of my leathers and the thick blanket I wrapped myself with. The icy air hit me hard, taking my breath. With record speed, I washed quickly, dressed myself in the scratchy, smelly wool, shoved my bare feet into the rough boots and rewrapped the blanket around me. The thick wool gradually warmed my body, but the boots seriously neglected to warm my feet. I wiggled my aching toes. Perhaps there was a spot of room to wrap my feet with thin warmer leather to protect them from the cold. I’d have to investigate that possibility. I seriously doubted patrols would be much interested in what a slave wore inside her boots.

I bundled my leathers together into a small roll to stuff into my pack. Arianne’s dress I shoved under the pine to rot. I dumped the now cold water on the stony turf while Thunder returned with more heavy breaking of branches and shrubs. I emerged, fully dressed, from around the thicket of pines.

“Ah, my thanks,” I said, seeing the drooping, fine, white cloth between his jaws. “He did remember.”

Taking the kirtle from him, I thanked him with a kiss to his muzzle and returned to Arianne. At my urging, she dropped the warm cloak and stood shivering while I dressed her first in the silken kirtle and then the heavier brocade. Despite her attempts to hold her hair aside, I was forced to pull the resistant mass out of the inside of the gown before I could fit her into it properly.

“Rygel chose well,” I murmured, lacing her up the back. “This goes quite well with your eyes.”

“It’s awkward and uncomfortable,” she complained, rolling her shoulders under the burden. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s what a royal lady would wear,” I said, using both hands and my teeth to lace her small body into the gown.

“Royal ladies are idiots.”

I snorted laughter, dropping the string I needed from my teeth.

“Thanks.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean you, of course. You wear sensible clothing. It’s the Khalidians who dress themselves like silly fops.”

“That may be true,” I said, using my wrist to retake the string into my mouth. “But you must pretend that you wear this all the time.”

“Must I have the cloak, too?” she asked. “This is hot. I’m sweating.”

“Royal ladies perspire, dear.”

“Then I’m perspiring. Perspire is trickling down my back.”

Laughter choked off my breath. “It’s perspiration,” I said when I could speak.

“Whatever. It’s nasty.”

“Don’t forget. You have to practice looking disdainful.”

Her head turned over her shoulder to eye me quizzically. “How do I do that?”

“Try looking down your nose.”

Raising her head, she stared down her nose. I swallowed another laugh. All she managed to do was look imperious with crossed eyes.

“How was that?” she asked, her expression returning to its more comfortable shy expression.

I cupped her cheek with my hand. “Keep practicing.”

A soft wuff sounded from behind the thicket. “Oh, all right,” I said. “You can look.”

Four wolf muzzles pushed through the thicket, four wolf heads followed, eyes bright. Darkhan, of course, wagged his entire rear end from side to side as he gazed at his beautiful beloved. Silverruff, Digger and Thunder stared, tails low and silent, teeth caught on pink tongues as they all three eyed me with dismay. I scowled, my hands on my hips.

“Don’t any of you say a word,” I growled. “I’m supposed to be a slave. Slaves aren’t very glamorous.”

Thunder managed a small wag while Silverruff whined. Digger merely sighed.

“Oh, shut up.”

Wrapping the protesting Arianne into her scarlet cloak, I pushed her ahead of me, out from behind the thicket. My woolen clothes, while warmer than my leathers I carried in my hand, weren’t quite warm enough. At least until the sun rose a little higher. I buried my shoulders under my blanket once more and herded an unhappy Arianne and a happy Darkhan ahead of me. A glance behind showed a dejected Silverruff and a glowering Thunder following behind. Digger, not as upset as his kin, danced at my side. I reached down my hand to tickle his jaw, glad I included him in my small pack. He was a delight. I told him so, rewarded for my words with more dancing and a busy tail.

My boys had all changed into their disguises while we were away. Left and Right, looking like a slave and his reflection in a mirror, stood side by side in their new silver and black clothes and jeweled collars. Kel’Ratan, in his guard captain outfit, looked competent and ready, his hand on his sword hilt. The silver boar snarled from his cloak. Tor, fingering his new page uniform and gazing down at himself doubtfully, finally looked up.

“I don’t know how to be a page,” he said.

“It’s easy,” I replied. “Just be ready to serve.”

Rannon, Witraz, Alun, Yuri and Yuras stood off to one side, all in a bunch, gazing down at themselves, much as Tor had. Traditional Kel’Hallan clothing was of leather and fur, not cotton or wool. They’d no clue how to act in such clothing. Shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, they eyed one another and muttered under their collective breath.

Corwyn stood off to one side, gazing to the north, his blue eyes distant. He, too, had changed into a badged tunic slightly less fine than Rygel’s, his breeches fitting his legs closely. Tall boots snugged him to his knees and a thick black cloak hung from his shoulders. He alone, outside of Rygel, seemed comfortable in his new disguise. To me, he took on the appearance of an aged courtier, a family vassal, with his red and grey hair falling to his shoulders and thick mustache drooping around his thinned lips. The pain at his separation from Raine dug deep lines around his eyes and mouth gave lie to contented appearance. The sap in me wanted to draw him to my breast and comfort him. The warrior in me wanted to kick his butt.

As Arianne and I emerged from the trees, all male eyes rested on us both.

“Your Highness,” Witraz choked, his one eye staring at me in horror.

“This is not right,” Alun snapped, scowling in fury. “I’ll not stand for it.”

I glanced down at myself, fingering my collar, trying to see what they saw. I tried to picture a small slave wearing a furred collar walking behind her jeweled and royal mistress, carrying a bundle and a small pot. I smiled, averting my head, knowing that my disguise worked. If my boys felt outraged at my slavery, then hopefully any patrol that stopped us would be fooled entirely.

Corwyn turned and eyed us both up and down. He gazed at Arianne with favor, of course. Yet, he looked toward me with sadness and pity. Offering me a half-bow, he shook his grizzled head at the necessity of the disguise while clearly unhappy with it. I smiled at him, the urge to kick his butt dissipating.

Even Kel’Ratan glowered. He, I thought, would have gloated over my lack of station or royalty. Enjoyed my lowly class, my slave’s collar, my plain and ugly clothes. There he stood, angry that I was forced to even feign, for all our sakes, such servitude.

I dropped my hands to my sides, smiling at the furious Alun. “You’ll stand for it, warrior. You will all endure it, as I will. Besides –” I gestured down at myself. “A little humility never hurt anyone.”

“This form of humility may kill you,” Rannon growled. “You can’t defend yourself in that – outfit.”

“Then I reckon I’ll be relying entirely upon you boys,” I answered. “Now won’t I?”

Plenty of feet shifted unhappily, dark glances of unease flickered from eye to eye. Rannon and Alun nodded. Witraz shrugged, still scowling, Left and Right wore identical expressions of anger. Yuri and Yuras managed to stop arguing with Tor long enough to gape in unhappy shock.

“I’ll fix your hair,” I said quietly, urging Arianne to sit.

“And I’ll do yours.”

I spun. Rygel appeared, like magic, behind me. Wearing Khalidian clothes slightly more elegant than Kel’Ratan, he offered a bow and a swift salute. I noticed he also wore the badge with the crowned boar and his torque was missing. As was his diamond earring.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, reluctant to have him mess with my hair.

“A slave doesn’t own rich, glossy tresses, Princess,” Rygel answered, smiling. “But fear not. What I do isn’t permanent. “I’ll just tease it a bit, make it look snarled and matted.”

I shrugged, giving in. He was right, of course. “Very well.”

I sat behind Arianne and braided her thick heavy locks into some semblance of order. With the silken netting and small pearls Rygel thrust into my lap, I managed to create a masterpiece of braided black wealth that coiled over her shoulder and down past her waist bedecked in shiny white pearls. My own hair, with a quick glance at what fell over my shoulder, looked, under Rygel’s teasing, dull, flat and uncared for. As I’d treated my hair like gold throughout my life, having it look like a rat bred its offspring in it made my heart sink. Damn Rygel and his wild, hare-brained ideas. I’ll kill him for this.

Escaping my ire in a smooth, graceful move, Rygel went to his cranky, irritated black gelding. The poor horse, loaded past his capacity and even-tempered willingness, flattened his ears and lashed his tail in protest.

“In my travels last night,” Rygel said, soothing his horse’s anger with soft caresses. “I discovered there is a semi-permanent merchant’s fair. It lies at the center of a crossroads, where several caravan routes intersect.”

“And?” I prompted when he hesitated.

He shrugged. “It’s a tent city, for the most part. Merchants pack up and depart at a moment’s notice, while others move in. Everything we could ever want, or need, can be found there.”

His dancing around his suggestion irritated me to no end. “Pray tell, what might we need there?”

“We need more beasts of burden,” he went on. “I suggest we start with there, and find a few more horses.”

Fortunately for him, he came to the point before I blew up. “Of course,” I snapped. “I’m thinking by the time we get there we’ll need plenty of other things besides more mounts. Like wine.”

“Our stores are low,” Kel’Ratan added. “We won’t be able to hunt for a time, so we’ll need more than just pack animals and wine.”

I glanced about, my hands on my hips. “Where’s Bar?”

No one had seen him leave, as every head, human and wolf, turned this way and that, searching, mystified, for the absent griffin. Wolves nosed the ground, sniffed the air, as if they might track him down. My boys searched the camp, as though by looking about might find him hiding under a blanket or behind a stone.

“You all are useless,” I snapped.

“He flew off when you went to change clothing,” Shardon offered, grass in his teeth.

“Ah,” I said, with a grateful gesture toward him. “Someone who has eyes. Very good.”

Alun strode forward, carrying the carcass of a snowy owl. I blinked in confusion when he tossed it on the ground and smiled. “I killed it last night, just before I slept.”

Realization dawned. “Of course. Everyone, pluck feathers and tie them into manes, tails and your own hair. We’re Zhous, remember?”

“Bar probably disappeared to protect his feathers,” Kel’Ratan offered, plucking a small handful for himself.

Not knowing whether a Zhou slave would be permitted to wear Osimi feathers, I tied one into my hair anyway. Throwing my blanket to Tor, I strode to my faithful Mikk, and tied another into his mane. Left and Right followed my example. Kel’Hallan warriors vanished and Zhou slaves emerged like, well, magic.

“Just what are their duties?” I asked, nodding toward the twins.

Rygel followed my eyes to the now scowling twins. “They’re bedroom slaves.”

Starting to vault into my saddle, I dropped back, almost stumbling. My handful of Mikk’s mane kept me from falling onto my butt. “Excuse me?”

Arianne covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes huge as she, too, stared at Left and Right. Witraz chuckled, Rannon laughed aloud, and Alun coughed, choking back his own humor.

“A royal lady without a husband,” Rygel said smoothly, his own amber eyes dancing, “would certainly want entertainment. A pair of identical twin bedroom slaves to serve her every whim would gain her much admiration amongst the nobility.”

Pink tinged the throats of both Left and Right above their jeweled collars and rose. Gaining both a darker reddish hue and altitude, their faces bore identical rose-tinted blushes. Even their ears, what could be seen from behind their black hair anyway, turned garnet. Twin sets of dark eyes dropped to the ground in utter embarrassment and horror.

Arianne’s giggle created an even darker flush, if that were possible.

I dared not speak. I dared not laugh. I dared not even breathe. Should I show any sort of humor at all, I feared they’d fall dead on the spot. I’d never live with myself if my faithful twins died of mortification caused by my giggles.

I coughed, cleared my throat. “Well,” I said hoarsely. “Let’s get on then. Daylight’s wasting.”

Left and Right plunged toward their horses, vaulting into their saddles. When Witraz, Alun and Rannon might make sport of their plight, my glare skewered them, freezing them, into place. In a quick gesture, I slashed my finger across my own throat. Three sets of jaws slammed shut on teeth. Three throats bobbed in gulps. Three sets of eyes widened. A lightning glance showed me Left and Right in their saddles, their backs to me. Lifting my finger to my lips, I scowled dangerously at the errant trio.

With hasty bows of apology, they hurried to their own mounts. If I heard choked coughs aplenty, at least Left and Right didn’t hear laughter.

I started in surprise when I found Kel’Ratan at my shoulder. He stared after the embarrassed twins with something akin to sympathy in his blue eyes. He smiled when he found me watching him.

“They’re just boys, really,” he said simply. “They’re still very innocent in many ways.”

Leaving me to gape, he walked to his own bay stallion and swiftly mounted up. Mikk nuzzled my shoulder, clearly asking what the delay was. I caressed his silken muzzle, circled his jaw with my arms and rested my head against his.

Bar blew in with a raucous screech, the wind from his wings blowing my hair about my face. Dragging it out of my eyes, I watched him settle to earth a short distance away. Furling his wings, he trotted to me, the blood on his beak and mane told me where he’d been. Hunting.

“Save anything for the rest of us?” I asked, digging a rag from my saddlebag to wipe him clean.

He chirped.

I glanced around. “If any wolves are interested, he left a bit for you. It’s just beyond the hill yonder.”

I nodded toward the closest hill to the southwest, crowned by a thicket of pine and oak trees. Dire, Black Tongue, Scatters Them, Kip, Digger and Warrior Dog raced away at top speed. Galloping up the hill, they disappeared into the thicket. The rest of the wolves watched them go, some with interest, but most yawned, or scratched persistent itches, or lay down to wait on the rest of us. Silverruff walked to my side, his tail waving gently, to rub affectionately, catlike, against my leg. His head on a level with my chest, I rubbed his ears, playfully slapped his muzzle. “Time to ride –“

The idea hit me with nearly the force of a thunderbolt. I wheeled, staring at Bar so fiercely he stepped back, his beak widening in dismay.

“You,” I said, stepping away from Mikk and Silverruff, pointing my finger. “I can understand you.”

He hissed, his wings half-flaring. I know.

“But,” I said, stepping toward him slowly. “With Rygel’s magic I can understand you better.”

He squawked. What do you mean?

“With you up there.” I pointed skyward. “You can see a long way and drop down within seconds.”

Bar again stepped back, away from me, his tail lashing from side to side.

“Yet, I’ve no way to call you, should you be out of sight.”

“Of course.”

Rygel’s intruding voice suddenly startled me.

“Of course what?” Kel’Ratan snapped, clearly confused. “What’re you two babbling on about?”

“A mental connection,” Rygel answered, rubbing his hands together in glee. “Mental communication between Her Highness and Bar.”

Bar’s beak dropped. I grinned. “Are you game?”

He answered when he stepped forward with raptor beak wide in an eagle grin, his raptor eyes gleaming with confidence, with happiness.

“All right,” Rygel said, blowing on his fingers and flexing them. “For this to work, we three must be in physical range of one another. Touching each other, in a circle.”

I began to reach for his hand, then hesitated. “Will Ja’Teel hear this magic?”

He shook his blonde mane impatiently. “Doubtful. This sort of magic is subtle, internal. It generates very little noise.”

He seized my left hand in his, and reached up to cup Bar’s beak. I felt no little surprise that Bar allowed such intimacy with a human outside myself or my father. In his turn, Bar sat down and dropped his face, drawing closer, to me. With my right hand, I buried my fingers in the feathers of his cheek, burrowing down until they met his warm skin. Raptor eyes gleamed down at me with love enough to make me choke on tears.

“Close your eyes,” Rygel commanded.

I don’t know if Bar obeyed, but I did, shutting out the sunlight and the interested stares of wolves, humans and Shardon.

“Relax,” Rygel’s voice ordered quietly. “Breathe evenly. In and out. In and out. Just breathe.”

His soft voice, carried on his own slow exhalations, soothed and created within me a deep tranquility, a lethargy that stole across my limbs and my mind. I breathed in complete harmony with him. Bar’s own breathing slowed to match ours. Three hearts beat in the identical, slow rhythm. Like distant drums, I heard them, the thrumming of our hearts, their measured cadence. Dropping deeper, I felt blood push through our veins, felt the magic seep like the dawn’s mist through our bodies.

My mind, where once I called it my own, now merged with Bar’s. I felt his thoughts, he felt mine. I knew his emotions, he shared mine. I saw into the complex myriad thinking of an intelligent creature, albeit an alien creature. One set apart from me by blood, by species, and by the span of generations of hatred.

I opened my eyes. I stared into the yellow, raptor gaze of a natural born killer.

The killer who loved me.

I smiled. Enclosing that deadly beak into my arms, I shut my eyes again, resting my head on his brow. His talon cupped my lower back, holding me close.

“Did it work?”

Bar’s voice in my head sounded to me like sweet music.

“Stupid question.”

His inward chuckle brought my own laughter bubbling forth.

“That bloody wizard has his uses after all.”

As Rygel hadn’t reacted to Bar’s comment, I knew he left himself out of the mind link. I still giggled, however.

“I’ve a question,” Bar said.

“What, my love?”

“Why didn’t we make him give us this a long time ago?”

While I thought I knew Bar’s language, understood all he had to say, in conversing with him, I recognized now I knew nothing. At this moment, mind to mind with him, I realized I understood only the simplest of Bar’s speech. I’d no inkling of the complexity of his mind or the wide range of his emotions. Then, at that time, he spoke the equivalent of griffin baby talk. This, here and now, was the real Bar.

Humor tinged his voice in my mind. “I know. It feels weird to me, too.”

“Well?”

Kel’Ratan’s sharp demand made me turn. I’d almost forgotten those that waited with bated breath on what just transpired. I blinked as I found nine sets of human eyes, an uncounted number of wolfish eyes and one set of Tarbane eyes all staring at us.

“Um,” I said. “It worked.”

“You can understand him?” Kel’Ratan asked, mustache bristling. “In your head?”

“Yes. No matter where Bar is, or where I am, we can hear each other.”

“Tell him his mustache looks like a scrub brush.”

I wheeled on Bar, choking on my laughter. “I won’t. He’ll kill me.”

“Oh, please.”

Kel’Ratan, intelligent as he was, suspected we jested at his expense. His blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

Swallowing my laughter, I said, “Daylight’s wasting. Let’s move.”

My slavish clothes made no hindrance to my grabbing a thick handful of mane and vaulting aboard.

Weapons. I still needed weapons. Mikk, of course, would protect me with deadly teeth and very hard hooves. However, I needed more than just one loyal stallion if we came under attack from Brutal or any other enemy. I may be forced to pretend slavery, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have to become one.

Twisting in his saddle, I buried my sword, bow and quiver in the pack over his rump. From deep within the myriad of things I carried, I retrieved a set of five wickedly sharp daggers in their sheaths. I very seldom used them, but liked to keep in practice whenever possible by casting them deep into tree trunks. Holding them up to Left and Right as an example, I used one to cut a short length of rope and tie it about my waist. It kept the woolen tunic from hanging about my torso like a grain sack and made for some very interesting hiding places. I hid my daggers in various places about my hips, legs and breasts, making certain I could draw one in an eye blink.

Left and Right, aboard their black stallions, followed my lead, hiding their warrior’s weapons and digging out their own normally unused killing knives. Rygel’s choice of clothing allowed many places one might conceal a sharp, edged weapon. All the hilts held extra weight for throwing. Despite Kel’Ratan’s words to the contrary, I could throw a knife with the best. Kel’Ratan was always the jealous sort.

“I also found this,” Rygel said.

He held in his hands a fantastically ornate bridle, jeweled richly in diamonds, garnets, pearls, rubies, amethysts and smaller gems I couldn’t place immediately. My jaw dropped before I could command it not to. That bridle was worth a king’s ransom. At the very least.

Arianne’s huge glorious eyes widened in shock.

“Where the bloody hell did you get that?” Kel’Ratan demanded, stalking toward a grinning Rygel for a closer look. His mustache bristled in a combination of Kel’Hallan outrage against such ostentation and the sheer awe of its raw beauty.

“A jeweler was crafting it for a rich merchant,” Rygel drawled, his tawny eyes laughing as he held up the gaudy piece into the light of the sun. The jewels came alive, dancing in the joy of a new day. “I relieved him of its heavy burden. I did him a favor, actually.”

“How do you figure that?” Kel’Ratan asked, fingering the fine leather and sparking gems.

“The jeweler can decamp with the merchant’s money in his pocket, a wealthy man,” Rygel said. He squinted at the sun as though calculating, but I recognized the pause for drama, to gather eyes. I remembered suddenly there was a great deal to hate about our wizard Rygel. “He hadn’t, as far as I knew, paid for the jewels themselves.”

“And the merchant?”

“Will find himself without this bridle and a bit poorer for the experience.”

“Won’t he exact his vengeance?”

“Only if he catches the miscreant,” Rygel replied with a grin. “I expect that bad boy is halfway to Soudan by now.”

“Won’t someone recognize that damn thing?” I asked.

Rygel shrugged.

I have my knives, I thought, reaching for one. He’d never know it when I struck his heart.

“Not likely,” he replied. “The jeweler is the only one who knows what it looks like and he’ll be long gone before we even hit the sand below.”

Leaving Kel’Ratan and I to eye each other in dismay, Rygel turned to Arianne, his smile and the heavily bedecked bridle entrancing that easily entranced girl. Darkhan growled, low in his throat, his yellow eyes slanted. Rygel knew his lavish gift would turn Arianne toward him, I thought, watching the three of them. Darkhan had no means to offer her material things. Rygel could. He just did. Both of them knew it.

Tor, already saddling Rufus for her, bowed himself aside as Rygel bridled him with his lavish gift. Arianne, her heart in her glorious eyes, stroked Rufus’s bony face and buried her tiny face in his thick black mane. Rufus, for his part, nudged her affectionately with his muzzle, all but toppling her into the dirt. I couldn’t help but notice his eyes. Where once they shone with a hard edge, they now glowed a soft, bright brown. As though his diminutive mistress had smoothed all the jagged edges in the stallion’s soul and rounded them with love.

Where was the horse that kicked or bit anyone who came near? Where was the warhorse who killed to protect Raine? Damn it. I gnawed my knuckle, praying that if we needed Rufus to protect her, he hadn’t softened into buttery syrup. If things go against us down there, we’ll need all the sharp edges we can get.

“I also discovered this.”

With a flourish, Rygel seized a pack and brought forth a caparison made of tawny cloth of gold. Sweeping it up and out, he settled it onto Rufus’s saddle, effectively covering it. This, at least, I could approve of. Arianne’s saddle was of leather and fur, a Kel’Hallan saddle. Not the typical saddle of a great aristocrat. The caparison allowed the saddle to be used, yet made it appear not what it truly was. The stirrups he slid through the holes made for them, leaving Rufus to stand under the sun and shine.

“Oh.”

That small word was all Arianne managed to breathe. Eyes huge in her small face, she stared at her stallion with all the wonder of a child. Her hands she clasped under her chin, her fair lips parted in sheer awe and delight. Rufus munched his bit and shook his mane, clearly wondering what was keeping her from mounting.

“Allow me,” Rygel spoke, as though answering him.

 

Dropping to his knee, he invited her to step into his laced fingers. She obeyed, holding her brocade gown up with her right hand. Standing straight, he tossed her lightly into her saddle, where she competently sat, gathering her skirts about her. As she took up her velvet reins, Rygel gently introduced her feet into her stirrups and gazed lovingly up into her eyes. Of course, like in any romance story ever told, she gazed down at him with the same exact amount of adoration. I felt sick when he lifted her fingers from her reins to kiss, wanted to slap her when she bent low over her pommel to brush his eager lips with her own.

For my heart broke over the pain of another.

Poor Darkhan, left in the cold, tossed aside like so much rubbish, slunk away, beaten, angry and bewildered.

“Despicable,” I muttered, my heart reaching for the grieving Darkhan.

“Not really, Your Highness,” Alun said.

His soft voice startled me. He’d walked his horse close beside Mikk and I hadn’t heard him. “Didn’t Prince Raine say that all was fair in love and war?”

I turned on him. “This is cruel. Rygel has means to court her that Darkhan hasn’t.”

Alun watched as Darkhan, growling low in his throat, sat outside the circle of wolves, horses and warriors. “But, Your Highness,” Alun answered slowly. “Darkhan doesn’t belong, anyway. He’s a wolf. He should find a wolf mate. Not a human one.”

“He loves her.” My heart choking my throat, that was all the answer I could summon.

“That may be,” Alun replied, softly. “And I admire him for it. But he’s wrong. As much as I despise a bastard, and especially one who aspires to align with royal blood, Lord Rygel and Princess Arianne match beautifully. The bastard and the princess belong. The wolf doesn’t.”

“What about me?” I snapped down at him, as he stood beside my stirrup. “I love a wolf, too.”

“Ly’Tana.”

Alun’s softly chiding voice caught me by surprise. How long has it been since he last called me by name? Ten years? Twelve?

“That’s different and you know it.”

Alun’s eyes watched Darkhan as he sat alone, his ears slack, muzzle pointed toward the earth, his misery etched in his every feature. “Prince Raine is both a man and a wolf. Physically, more man, anyway, though I wonder. Darkhan cannot be her mate as he desires. He should learn to accept this.”

“But – “ I began, wanting to explain how much the poor dear hurt just now.

Alun’s hand closing over mine choked off whatever I might have said in defense of the big, dark, golden-eyed wolf.

“No buts,” Alun said firmly. “Personally, I like Rygel, despite his background. I adore Her Highness. I also like Darkhan. There’s no choice here. Rygel and Her Highness belong together. Darkhan, by the sheer chance that made him a wolf, loses by default.”

“Had he been born a man,” I murmured, my heart aching.

“Then we’d be looking at an entirely different horse,” Alun agreed. “But he wasn’t.”

“So what are you telling me?” I asked, drawing a ragged breath.

“Stay out of it.”

“What? I can’t – “

“He’s right,” Bar said from beyond the circle, pausing in the preening of his left wing. Though he half-turned his head to cock one raptor eye one me, he didn’t cease his grooming.

“What do you know?” I scoffed.

“I love you more than my own life,” Bar answered calmly, his vocal chirp coinciding strangely with the mental voice in my head. I really needed to get used to that. “In my guardianship, I’d offer up my life to keep you safe, and die happy. With you, my life is complete, and fulfilled. But I don’t love you as my mate. We – are not right.”

I sat back into my saddle, still, pondering Bar’s words, Mikk shifting his feet restlessly under me. Bar loved me beyond all reason, all life. Yet, he didn’t desire me as a mate. My mind turned to the possibilities. How can we turn Darkhan to that very same way of thinking? To love Arianne more than he loved life, yet accept that she and he are not a right fit?

“Good luck with that,” Bar answered my thoughts with humor.

I waved a negligent hand. “Talk to him. Maybe you can help him out.”

Bar raised a talon and scratched an itch just under his right eye. “Hel-lo,” he replied. “I don’t speak wolf and he certainly doesn’t speak griffin.”

“I’m learning wolf. Maybe I need to learn it faster,” I said, thinking hard, chewing my lower lip. “There must be a way.”

“Don’t sweat it. It’ll work itself out in time.”

“Time? How much time do we need? Rygel and Darkhan will be at each other’s throats before the sun comes up again.”

“I think you know better than to argue with me.”

I sat and fumed, searching my mind for a seething riposte. Bar once more twisted his body to the left and busily preened his left wing. I couldn’t help it.

“You missed a spot.”

His raptor’s eyes glared. “You’re not funny.”

I nodded helpfully. “Over there, at your elbow joint.”

He glowered. “Leave me be.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m trying to help.”

“When you feel the urge to help?” Bar said, earnestly gazing into my eyes. “Really want to help me? Don’t.”

Giggling into Mikk’s mane, my ribs ached with restrained humor. Ah, vengeance tasted sweet at times.

“You forgot your sense of humor,” I said, taking up my reins. “You lost it, somewhere along the way.”

“I know right where it is,” Bar answered, folding his wings across his back and rising to his feet.

I stared deep into his yellow predatory, yet loving, eyes. “I’ll miss you,” I said softly, aloud. “But go you must.”

“You now have the means to call me,” he answered, crouching low in preparation for flight. “Don’t hesitate.”

“Please.”

His wings sweeping dirt, twigs, last year’s leaves into a miniature hurricane about us, Bar launched himself into the air. His wings beat down, once, twice, thrice, his lion hind legs and tail trailing out behind him as his body lifted up and away. Forever admiring, I watched his graceful bank around, wings enslaving the invisible air above me as he circled, gaining altitude. Brushing my hair from my eyes, I looked up, watching him rise ever higher, finding and using the warm updrafts. His vocal and mental speech drifted down to me, his eagle head angling down to see me better from between his folded front legs. “Good luck.”

I didn’t answer as he drifted higher on the morning breeze and became yet another dot high in the sky. I sighed and dropped my eyes.

“Time to ride,” I said, glancing about at my boys. “I may be a slave, but I’m still in charge.”

Rygel vaulted into Shardon’s saddle while my warriors found their own. Witraz brought me a warm bundle of doeskin and Tuatha, the latter only half awake. The pup greeted me with a mumble as I gathered him into my arms. Witraz bowed his way to his own piebald, and swung into his saddle. Joker gazed up at him, his tail waving.

“Be good,” Witraz said to him. “Be safe.”

Corwyn mounted with fluid ease, his roan gelding shifting his hooves under him, restless, ready to run. White Fang wagged his tail, but if he expected a response he was disappointed. Corwyn nudged his roan away without a glance in White Fang’s direction. The red wolf watched him go, his tail still waving. I guess he understood Corwyn, while I didn’t.

I caught Arianne’s huge eyes with my own.

“You lead, little cat,” I said. “Rygel right behind you, and Corwyn behind him. I’ll follow as her body slave, with Left and Right behind me.”

Twin dark eyes gleamed with approval, but I ignored them for the moment. “Tor, you ride behind the twins.”

For once, Tor made no objection at being parted from Yuri and Yuras, but reined the placid grey mare in behind me, ready to follow my instructions.

Kip whined. Tor grinned down at him. “Don’t worry, boy. We’ll be together again soon.”

“The rest of you,” I said, seeking out Witraz, Rannon, Alun and the blonde brothers. “Two are outriders, two follow behind Corwyn and one as rearguard.”

I left them to sort out who went where, I glanced down at Silverruff. “Here, my friend,” I murmured. “We must part company. At least for a while.”

He barked, a short sharp sound. I think I knew what he said, but decided not to challenge it.

“Divide yourselves into packs of four or five wolves,” I said. “If you’re seen, the people down below will think of you as scavengers.”

“They’re ignorant of wolfish behavior,” Rygel continued smoothly. “They don’t know you don’t eat dead bodies or kill humans for food. They’ll think the worst, but we care not for what they will think.”

“Of course,” I continued, remembering Raine’s difficulty in crossing the Caravan Route. “You may encounter people as you try to follow us through that valley. Stay hidden as much as you can and don’t fight.”

I glanced sidelong toward Arianne on her flashy bay stallion. “You’ll know when and if we need you.”

Silverruff, Digger and Thunder sat around Mikk’s legs, gazing up at me, tongues lolling, brown, angular eyes worried.

“It’s all good, lads,” I said cheerfully. “Before you know it, we’ll be dogging his furry black tail.”

Digger barked, while Silverruff whined and Thunder sighed.

“No worries,” I said, smiling. “It could be worse. You could listen to Kel’Ratan whine all night and day.”

“I heard that.”

Turning away from my three protectors, I watched as Alun caressed Black’s Tongue’s head, reaching down from his saddle. Black Tongue wagged his tail, with less enthusiasm than his usual wont, watched him as Alun turned his horse to gallop toward our rear.

Rannon and Shadow walked side by side, away from the others, Rannon leading his horse by the reins in his lax hand. Rannon’s head turned briefly down toward Shadow, while Shadow’s muzzle uptilted toward Rannon’s face. I knew they couldn’t communicate well, for Rannon spoke no wolf. Their parting seemed more difficult, for some reason. I’d no idea why, but turned my face away to allow them privacy.

Yuri and Yuras, from atop their chestnut stallions, waved to Warrior Dog and Scatters Them. Both wolves watched them rein about, ears slack and tails low. The young brothers turned in their saddles to both salute me and grin at their friends before riding out of sight.

Rygel and Shardon stood off to one side, Little Bull between them. What Rygel said to him, I’d no idea, for I was neither close enough nor versed in the wolf language. But, after a few long moments of communication, Little Bull walked away to join Silverruff, Thunder and Digger.

The silent four, Left, Right, Dire and Lightfoot, stood together in silent communion for long moments. As one man, the twins vaulted into their saddles and reined their blacks in behind me. As one wolf, Dire and Lightfoot turned and trotted toward my group, tails low.

Only Darkhan sat apart.

His yellow eyes met Arianne’s. I reckoned that only now he realized that they must part. For how long, no one knew. I had but to look once at him and I felt his agony, his grief, his utter dejection. Arianne, for her part, bore up bravely enough. Tears coursed down her cheek, but her stern visage changed not one jot. Like a butterfly from its cocoon, the princess had emerged at last.

Her words to him were silent. I knew they spoke, knew they exchanged words, but ‘twas in the silent, telepathic language of wolves. Much as what I now had with Bar. I hope she spoke to him of love and of hope, though what hope I couldn’t guess. Alun was right: Darkhan wasn’t a good fit. Nephrotiti bless him, perhaps now he knew it, too.

I glanced back as we rode away. Mikk trotted smoothly under me, but my chin rested on my shoulder. The wolves melted into the rocks and undergrowth, dividing into four smaller packs, leaving the area, as I bade them. Soon, one would never know that fifteen wolves and eleven humans had gathered together in one huge, loving family.

Only Darkhan sat alone, silent, heartbroken, as the one he loved as a mate rode a horse away from him and didn’t look back.

I wasn’t surprised when the lonely howl of grief rose from the hills behind us.

 

 

The terrain grew harsher and more treacherous the further we rode. Forced down from a ground covering trot to a careful walk, our mounts slid and slithered down steep hills made up of sand and small rocks. I’d gathered together all the outriders, for soon we’d enter lands populated by people, not wild creatures. A royal Khalidian princess would have all her henchmen around her. We rode in pairs, Arianne and Rygel in the front, followed closely by Kel’Ratan and Corwyn. Alun and Rannon rode side by side, though they didn’t talk much. Yuri and Yuras also rode their horses without their usual brotherly laughter, chatter and arguments. Witraz and Tor fell in behind them, leaving me the only one to ride alone. As a slave proper, I’d have reined Mikk in behind the twins, but they’d have none of it. Twin scowls met my attempt and forcing them to ride in front of me wasn’t worth the effort of a royal command.

The tough, rocky Mesaan Mountains fell behind as we rode down into the slippery, lifeless brown and grey gravel of the great Tanai Desert. I found little vegetation and fewer animals as we rode further and further downhill. Grey-green sprigs of thin grass grew in tufts, allowing some grazing for our horses.

I fretted over the lack of water. Despite Rygel’s assurances that public wells were frequent along the caravan routes, I constantly bit my mental knuckle over the horses. Tuatha didn’t appear very thirsty, and on our short breaks for rest, refused much more than a few laps of my water.

As sunset neared, the sun low on the horizon and our shadows long behind us, we reached the great plain, and the great highway system of Khalid. The higher stony country fell behind as the hooves of our mounts met the sandy, dusty desert.

As Rygel had said, the caravan routes of the Khalid kingdom lay crisscrossing the extensive, shallow valley. No sooner had our mounts reached level ground when we encountered long columns of mule or horse trains, mules packed with goods bound for Soudan, or from Soudan to the west, the north, or the south. Wagons drawn by oxen, horses, or mules trundled past, guards of steely-eyed mercenaries riding shotgun or on horses. Camels, albeit my very first sight of the famous and, to me, rather disgusting dromedaries, bore huge bundles of goods and walked nose to tail behind their drivers. Despite their famous abilities as a desert creature who travelled long leagues with no water and through the tremendous desert storms, I found them abhorrent. Their broad, flat feet, huge eyes with those long girlish lashes, and horrid humps on their backs, I called them the ugliest creatures the gods ever created. When I witnessed one spitting, that was it. I hated camels from that moment on. Perhaps my feelings were unfair toward what might be rather useful creatures, but the horse-lover in me despised them.

“Where was that market you found?” Kel’Ratan asked Rygel.

None of the other travelers along the highway paid us the slightest heed. The caravan drivers, the merchants, the guards, the camel riders all passed us by without even a curious glance; as though aristocratic women and their entourage rode down out of the mountains every day. Arianne played her part well. She rode Rufus to the front and never once glanced back at her advisors to inquire if she did well.

“A league or so to the north,” Rygel answered in a low voice.

“Will we find patrols?”

“I think one just found us.”

I quickly dropped my face to peer upward through my dull, teased hair. I saw most if not all around me with my eyes concealed behind my Zhou slave locks. My white feather danced in the breeze made by Mikk’s forward motion, occasionally tickling my ear.

We’d barely ridden a mile along the highly traveled, flat highway when a small troop of Khalidian royals in their purple and gold uniforms galloped toward us. Kel’Ratan glanced around quickly to make certain we all appeared to be what we pretended to be. What he saw must have satisfied him, for he reined his stallion in beside Shardon and stiffened his spine.

The patrol leader raised his hand to halt both us and his half-dozen minions behind him. He was of mid-stature, with bright brown hair, close-cropped, and drooping brown eyes. In my poor opinion, his manner toward Arianne was a strange mixture of bravado and cringing subservience. I guessed Rygel’s estimation of the poorly paid troops who guarded the Route was dead on.

If the leader saw anything out of the ordinary, he didn’t show it immediately. My concern over the quality of Shardon, Mikk and the twins’ black stallions appeared groundless. The troopers’ eyes passed over us and our mounts with no more than an idle curiosity.

Arianne reined in her stallion, her head, what I could see of it, held high.

“Captain,” she drawled, her voice cold and nasal.

Shock dropped its load into my gut. How did she learn such an attitude in such a short span of an afternoon? While Rygel said he’d teach her an aristocratic bearing, there hadn’t been enough time. Our ride out of the mountains hadn’t allowed much conversation much less an education in royal haughtiness.

“Er,” the young man stammered. “I’m a corporal, Your Highness.”

“Captain, corporal, what’s the difference?” Arianne replied flippantly. “What do you want?”

His eyes flicked over Kel’Ratan, Rygel, my boys, and the slaves: Left, Right and me in a quick assessment. I hoped, and prayed, that what he saw were not a band of fleeing Kel’Hallans, but Zhou henchmen and Zhou slaves.

What he saw obviously assured him of our legitimacy, for he bowed low in his saddle.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said. “But my orders are clear: I must investigate every traveler on this highway. The tribesmen raid frequently.”

“Do we look to be those abhorrent tribesmen?” Arianne asked incredulously. “Do I appear to be one of those primitive creatures? I am the High King’s cousin, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Of course I did, Your Highness,” the corporal said quickly, his young face turning red. His eyes bulged in raw panic.

“What do you want, then, pray tell?”

The young man all but strangled, his throat bobbing as he gulped, hard, his finger loosening his tight collar at his throat. “Um, I must see the traveling passes of all who use His Majesty’s Royal Highway. I’ve orders, you see.”

“I do see,” Arianne replied, cold.

I wished I could see her face. I bit my mental knuckle, choked on a rising giggle, and imagined such words that came from the mouth of a girl-child who’d been a slave just a mere month ago. Damn it, Raine! You should see your sister. There’ll be no going back for her now.

“May I see your pass, Your Highness?”

“You do realize what may transpire should I complain to my royal cousin, do you not?” Arianne asked loftily.

“Um, I think so, Your Highness.” The corporal clearly hoped he’d die on the spot.

Arianne heaved a great sigh. “Oh, very well. I suppose you are just doing your job and following your orders, correct?”

“Um, indeed, yes, Your Highness.”

If the corporal looked ready to collapse of fright, his patrol appeared ready to bolt. They reined in skittish horses, eyes white and wide, their hands hovering over weapons. I suspected that if I were to jump out and scream “Boo!” they’d all faint dead away.

“Steward.” Arianne spoke over her shoulder.

“Yes, Your Highness?” Rygel replied quickly.

“Show the good captain - er, corporal my pass.”

“This instant, Your Highness.”

Rygel reached around and delved into his saddlebags. When his hand emerged with a small emerald, I wondered if that was enough.

“Your pass, Your Highness,” he murmured, handing it to her.

“Ah, my thanks.”

The corporal’s eyes bulged when he saw the gift. Not with fright, this time, but with greed, with hunger.

Arianne held it up to the light, allowing the setting sun glint through the gem with green fire, drawing out the drama in true Rygel form. “Is this the pass of which you spoke?” she asked, her voice still cold, drawling, arrogant.

“Why, yes, Your Highness,” the corporal stammered, his face pale with excitement, his body inclining toward the gift, his hand half-raised.

“Then take it.”

With a careless gesture, she tossed it toward him. He missed its flight through the air, his hand reaching toward it, passing it. The emerald glinted under the sunlight briefly before dropping into the dull sand, its green fire quenched.

Arianne led us past the royal troops as they lunged from their horses to fling sand up, digging for the lost treasure.

“Where is my slave?” she demanded harshly.

My pride in her rose. She knew that as we rode past foot and animal traffic in both directions, we must play our parts to the hilt. Rygel turned in his saddle and, with a wave of his arm, summoned me forward. With my face pointed toward my pommel, I nudged Mikk into a trot. Past my boys I rode, seeing from the tail of my eye how they ignored me. As though they hadn’t even noticed my existence.

I didn’t speak as I reined in behind her. Tuatha, in my lap, gazed about with curious sapphire eyes. He, too, seemed indifferent to those around him, but again and again his eyes turned up to mine in silent question. Despite his young age, he seemed to know of our danger and didn’t try to talk to me. Perhaps I should ask Rygel to forge a mind link between me and Tuatha as well.

Ever the obedient slave, I waited on my royal mistress.

Did I hear a giggle? I listened close. Sure enough, Arianne glanced back at me, over her shoulder, her huge grey-blue eyes alight with mischief and humor. I grinned behind my dull red locks.

“Did I do all right,” she murmured, a laugh tickling her throat.

“If they gave awards for acting,” I muttered, my eyes downcast, “they’d give you top honors.”

Her chuckle rewarded me. Kel’Ratan eyed us both in a mixture of humor and relief, while Rygel merely eyed Arianne with love and longing. Could he look at her in any other way? I sincerely doubted it. Arianne slipped her jesses and now flew free, a hawk who refused to return to glove. She no longer depended upon him, I suspected. Rygel may have a fight on his hands to get her back.

He should, I thought. Love certainly didn’t come easy.

“Pretend to give me something from your saddlebags,” Arianne murmured.

I twisted about to delve into my left-side bag, and found a small strip of silk. As any number of hands had packed my saddlebags, I guessed it had come with the clothing Rygel had stolen. I handed it to her.

She accepted it as though that what she needed all along. But now her glorious eyes looked worried, a small frown puckered her pale brow. “Are you all right?” she whispered.

I cast my eyes downward, to Tuatha. “Yes,” I breathed. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help it.” Her gaze returned to her front. She stared straight between her stallion’s ears, her body tall in the saddle and relaxed. “I worry about you. You’re not supposed to be a slave. I am.”

“Little cat.” I smiled behind the curtain of my hair. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

Her fair lips curved in a smile. “You haven’t, you bad girl.”

“Consider yourself on notice.”

“How’s Tuatha?”

I fondled the pup’s ears as he glanced up, hearing his name spoken.

“Too smart for a wolf.”

In recent weeks I’d seen any number of wolves laugh. The silent, wolfish expression of amusement of parted jaws and lolling tongues. Yet, I’d never seen Tuatha show any humor.

His tiny muzzle parted, his needle teeth gleamed in the rapidly failing light. His miniscule tongue lolled in a silent wolfish laugh, his tail buzzing from side to side. Unable to resist its infectiousness, I chuckled, trying to dampen its sound. Arianne also giggled, her laugh unrestrained. She could openly bend over and kiss his small, fuzzy head, while I could only tug gently on his ear in a small, concealed move. Tuatha laughed up into my face, his blue eyes dancing with mine.

“We should be thinking of camping for the night,” I murmured, my hand stroking the pup’s face.

“I agree,” Kel’Ratan muttered from somewhere behind me.

A wagonload of chained and dispirited slaves trundled past, the guards riding to either side with coiled whips tied to belts eyed us with suspicion.

“Most travelers camp a short distance away from the highway,” Rygel said, covering his mouth with his hand as though yawning. “Once we find a well, we’ll camp near it.”

“Good. I want plenty of water for these horses,” I replied, my mouth at my shoulder. “Is there one close?”

Rygel hesitated before replying. “I think so. In the morning, the ride to the market should be short.”

“Excellent.” I glanced up through my hair toward the back of Arianne’s head. “I should go back to the back now.”

Arianne waved impatiently at me without looking over her shoulder. I reined Mikk in, waiting at a halt until my warriors all rode past me. Witraz turned his head, his blue eye glinting with dull anger. If he represented all of them, none of them liked the situation at all. Left and Right slowed their twin black stallions to allow me to ride in front of them, as before. As ever, they’d protect my back.

Later, in the darkness, I lay in my blanket, outside the tent where Arianne slept. I heard her soft, tired snores through the thin wall of the tent. As her bed slaves, Left and Right also lay nearby, huddled in their bedrolls, back to back. They didn’t snore, but slept silent and motionless. Suspecting they liked the arrangement, as it meant they got to stay near me, I half-wondered if they were even asleep at all.

I cuddled Tuatha close. Our combined warmth should keep us comfortable enough through the long dark hours till dawn. I found I missed Silverruff, Thunder, Digger and all the rest of the wolves more than I thought I would. Behind my closed lids, I imagined them sleeping in furry humps in the desert hills, or prowling the night restlessly, hunting.

If I opened my eyes, I knew I’d see the remainder of my boys either seated or sleeping beside the fire. Rygel remained awake, as did Kel’Ratan. The two conversed in low tones, while Corwyn sat across from them, staring moodily into the dancing flames. Alun sat cross-legged outside the firelight, facing outward, watching the desert. While I wished I could go to him, just to sit with him for a while, I dared not. I sighed. Even in the dark there may be eyes watching, suspecting.

Beyond them, the campfires of other travelers dotted the night like stars fallen to earth. Distantly, the sounds of their voices, their laughter, their music, their dogs barking, drifted to my ears. I scented wood smoke, roasting meats and the odor of unwashed bodies on the soft night breeze.

Dimly I recalled Raine’s attempts to cross this very Route, turned away time and again, unable to prevent his wolf scent from reaching the horses, the mules, the sheep, the goats, the cattle. Dogs, too, would challenge him, raising such a ruckus until he moved on. The memory of him atop the hill, staring at me over his massive shoulder, his eyes seeing me despite the distance brought back my heartache, my yearning for him, my fears for his safety.

“Bar?” I called silently.

“You rang?”

“Where are you?”

“On the hilltop above you.”

I knew it was fruitless, but I couldn’t help lifting and turning my face toward the dark humps of the desert hills.

“Can you see me?”

“Of course. What’s wrong?”

I sighed, snuggling deeper into my blanket and Tuatha’s warmth. “Just feeling lonely, I reckon.”

“You’re not alone.”

“That’s good to know.”

“You miss him, don’t you?”

“Every minute.”

“For a wolf, he’s not a bad human.”

I chuckled, smothering the sound with my hand. “You like him, then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t put words in my beak. You know how I hate that.”

I giggled into my arm, drawing my blanket over my shoulder against the chilly desert air. “You’re such a fraud.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Will you watch over me? All night?”

“I’ve better things to do.”

“I love you.”

Bar’s sigh sounded clearly put upon. “I suppose I’m expected to get teary-eyed and mushy and tell you how much I love you, too.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

I smothered a giggle in Tuatha’s fur and fell asleep with Bar’s love enveloping me like a second warm blanket.

 

 

“I’m worried about Rygel.”

Using the same techniques of the day before, I laced Arianne into the stiff brocade gown using both hands and my mouth. I dropped a string from my teeth when I asked her, “Er, why?”

She shrugged, a combination of both a gesture of puzzlement and a shoulder roll to get the gown more comfortable on her back. “He seems very tense, withdrawn even. It’s not like him to not talk to me.”

“He’s not talking to you?”

That was indeed worrisome. I used my wrist to regain the string I dropped, gazing past Arianne’s dark head at Rygel under the thick fall of my snarled hair. Like Kel’Ratan and my boys, he curried Shardon in preparation for saddling him. But unlike them, the two stood apart from the others, almost out of the boundaries of our camp. His back turned toward us, he groomed Shardon’s coat as though his very life depended upon it. Shardon stood quiet, his ears back, and the one eye I could see fixed on Rygel at his shoulder. Did he look worried? I bit my lip. Shardon would know if Rygel were troubled, but as he owed his loyalty to Rygel, he wouldn’t speak of it.

“Maybe it’s just the tension,” Arianne went on. “We’re all feeling it.”

As I laced her into the gown, I surveyed the activity of the others. Tor, still acting as camp cook, went round with offers of food. He’d already fed Arianne and Rygel, Arianne slipping me half of her generous fare. The twins ate as they saddled their horses, their collars glinting under the newly risen sun. Concerned, I watched as Witraz waved Tor away impatiently, refusing food. Yuri and Yuras accepted theirs as they packed the patient black gelding, munching the cold roast, bread and cheese with one hand as they worked.

Alun saddled Mikk. I clenched my jaw as he tightened the girth too tight. Mikk pinned his ears in disgusted irritation. I’d no way of knowing if Alun had already eaten or refused food out of worry, since Tor didn’t offer him any. Rannon took down the tent, folding it away neatly for travel.

My eyes wandered to Kel’Ratan. He, too, groomed his bay stallion, the horse still nibbling on stalks of the thin grass that thrust upward from the sand. He shot occasional glances toward Rygel, his red mustache bristling. More obvious, Corwyn stood beside his packed and saddled roan gelding, and watched Rygel openly, his arms across his chest. Ah, so they, too, worried. Arianne’s sight, or instinct, was true.

Tuatha ate his breakfast from Arianne’s lap while I fixed her hair.

“Talk to him, if you can,” I murmured.

Her face turned toward me, her right eye cast over her shoulder. “I’ll try. But he’s been so – “

“What?”

“Cold.”

Rygel offered Arianne the cold shoulder? Unease dropped its heavy, obstinate load in my gut. I didn’t need any more information to know that something was wrong. Very wrong.

With Arianne dressed, fed and ready for travel, I couldn’t speak to her any longer. Kel’Ratan, not Rygel, helped her into her saddle. Arianne gathered her wide, leather reins, her glorious eyes moist as she watched Rygel vault aboard Shardon, his back still turned toward her. She may be a consummate actress when confronted with enemy soldiers, but among us, those who loved her, her façade dropped. Rygel’s actions not only worried her, they caused her sharp pain.

None could, or would, help me into my saddle. I dared not seize a handful of thick black mane and vault aboard, as the morning light had travelers already riding, driving or herding beasts up and down the Federal Highway. Too many eyes already cast us curious glances as they went past. We were late in getting on the road.

Mikk stood too high for me to get my foot in his stirrup. Arianne clucked to her Rufus and led the band forward while I floundered about, trying to mount. Left and Right stood patient, already sitting their horses, waiting for me with bland expressions. Dragging Mikk to a nearby rock, I climbed it, then jumped awkwardly into his saddle. I hoped that if anyone witnessed this, they saw a slave uncomfortable with horses climb aboard one. Mikk endured this drama with a confused eye, yet no end of loving patience. I nudged him into a trot to catch up to the others.

We rode through the hot morning, riding the highway that took us north and west, along the broad, dusty valley teeming with rovers, animals, wagons, camels, donkeys, caravans going in both directions. Manure-laden dust kicked up by hooves, wheels and feet covered my hair in a thin film and threatened me with an outraged nose. I sneezed several times, trying to cover the noise in my shoulder. Rubbing the residual itch from my nostril with my finger, I observed yet another long line of slaves chained to one another, walking tiredly in single file. Slavers with whips mounted on lean horses rode guard. I couldn’t identify their nation of origin. Had I the need to guess, I might have named them Connachti, by their angular faces and ragged clothing.

I itched to know whether Arianne managed a conversation with Rygel or not. Damn it, I couldn’t tell. She rode to the front, as before, Rygel and Kel’Ratan just behind. The rest of us rode in pairs, as we did the previous day. Under my hair, I studied Rygel as I never had before. He kept his head bowed as I did, but his eyes seemed to study Shardon’s mane rather than peer up from under his yellow hair. Were his shoulders tense? Kel’Ratan tried to speak to him three or four times and was ignored. Arianne’s face appeared over her shoulder from time to time, but as the morning wore on, I saw it less and less. That didn’t reassure me, however.

Kel’Ratan rode stiff in the saddle, his bay prancing rather than trotting. I bit my lip. The stallion’s equine language told me Kel’Ratan felt tense, uneasy. His horse never pranced except when Kel’Ratan was under stress. Corwyn and his roan told me little. If either of them worried, neither showed it. Damn it, this wasn’t a good time for Rygel to fall apart on us.

Arianne reined in when yet another troop of Khalidian soldiers loped across the desert toward us. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Rygel said they were paid poorly, and needed the bribes to survive. Of course they tended to target the wealthy rather than the obvious penniless peasantry, trudging under their heavy packs, or leading laden donkeys.

The patrol leader lifted his right fist in a halting gesture to the men behind him as his horse slid into a sandy stop a few rods from Arianne’s Rufus. She coughed delicately and waved her hand in front of her face when the Khalidian horses kicked up a small dust storm.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” the patrol leader said politely.

“I should hope so,” Arianne snapped, still waving her hand to keep the dust from her eyes. “What the blazes do you want?”

A taller more assertive man than the corporal who stopped us yesterday, he looked like he’d been around the block a time or ten. His blue eyes surveyed Arianne’s small column with a detached, knowing expression. Six royal troopers rode with him. Four split apart, riding down our column in pairs to each side. Two reined in halfway down, near Yuri and Yuras. The others halted a short distance away from me. I kept my head bowed while I peeped at the leader under my snarled locks. My hand, of its own accord, slid toward the knife at my hip. Tuatha snarled silently, his needle teeth gleaming. Didn’t I say he was smart?

“I trust you’ve a travelling pass, Your Highness?”

“Of course.”

Arianne half-turned in her saddle to cast a disdainful expression over her shoulder. “Steward – whatever your name is – fetch my pass, would you?”

“Instantly, Your Highness.”

Once more, Rygel retrieved a small gem from his saddlebag. Arianne tossed it in the soldier’s general direction, hoping no doubt that it would land in the dirt, allowing us the freedom to leave while the Federal troops searched for it.

The patrol leader caught it deftly. When he held it up to the sun, admiring it, I recognized a small diamond.

“My thanks,” he said, smiling, dropping the jewel into his belt pouch.

Arianne made as though to ride on, but the lieutenant and his men remained firmly in place, blocking her path. The load in my gut rolled over, churning.

“May I inquire as to your destination?” he asked politely, with a half bow toward Arianne’s royal sigil.

This fellow would prove Arianne’s mettle, I thought.

“May I inquire as to why it’s any of your business?” she retorted tartly.

His white teeth gleamed in a swift grin, there and gone. “Your Highness must know it’s my duty to question travelers along the royal highway. As well as keep them safe.”

“You bloody know I have the royal prerogative to travel here, unmolested,” Arianne returned with a snap.

My heart soared. Arianne unleashed wasn’t just a treasure, but a diamond cut from the rough. Raine, you should see her! She not only was the princess she was born to be, she had the insight to know what was required without the training. Like a hawk who refused to return to the glove, she soared into the sky, free and wild.

“I do indeed know this, Your Highness,” said the commander, a lieutenant. “Where are you going, please?”

“You’re nosier than an old woman,” Arianne complained. “Why I should explain is quite beyond my ken, but as I’m feeling quite agreeable, I’ll oblige you. My husband died recently, and I travel on pilgrimage to pray for his soul. Does this satisfy your silly curiosity?”

The lieutenant bowed in his saddle. “My condolences on your loss, Your Highness.”

“Then let me continue without all these indecent questions.” Arianne gathered her reins in preparation for nudging Rufus forward, past the patrol. He, however, remained stubbornly in her path.

My hand itched to have a blade in it.

“I recognize your sigil,” the young man said smoothly. “You’re our High King’s cousin.”

“So?” Arianne replied shortly, her hands tight on her reins. “What of it?”

“Somehow,” the lieutenant surveyed her up and down without disrespect. “I’d have expected someone…older.”

All right. These men would die. I filled my hand with a knife, ready to throw at the nearest soldier. He stood off to my left, an easy target for my cast, looking bored and inattentive. I could send my blade between his slack brown eyes in less than a flash.

Behind me, Left and Right also tensed, ready to launch themselves into battle with nothing but their courage and their daggers. My boys fingered weapons, stroked sword hilts, cautiously nocked arrows to bowstrings. Without a sword, Tor had only his bow. He slithered an arrow from the quiver hanging from his saddle, kept it hidden, his brows over his huge brown eyes lowered. I remembered his sharp abilities with a bow. He should do well.

Rygel never moved. Nor did Kel’Ratan. Arianne merely laughed.

“Ah, the rumors that find their way around the court,” she said, shaking her dark head. “Do I look like an old matron?”

“No, of course not,” the lieutenant replied, also smiling at the jest.

“I married young,” she said, relaxing into her saddle, her hand on her reins negligent. “My father was Lionel’s younger brother. I, of course, married a man much older than I. He died in the battles for supremacy in Soudan when Lionel was brutally murdered.”

“I heard, Your Highness. Again, I share your grief.”

How in the name of Nephrotiti did Arianne know all that?

Arianne shrugged. “Thus the rumors abound that I’m an old maid. At least my husband died fighting for the true High King, Broughton the First, may he reign forever. That is, of course, my comfort in these horrid times.”

Brutal reigning forever? Now there was a thought to cause nightmares.

“Amen to that,” the soldier replied. “How may I serve you, Your Highness?”

“Give me time,” Arianne answered, her voice loud and humored. “I’ll think of something.”

A rider, spurring his horse hard through the sand and dust of the desert, galloped toward us. The polite lieutenant wheeled his horse in the direction of the new threat, his hand on his hilt. His patrol formed around him and us, offering both protection and guardianship of the High King’s cousin and her entourage.

The newcomer reined his horse in sharply, the chestnut’s hindquarters slinging low as it slid to a stop. Sandy dust roiled up, all but obscuring him. From behind its cloud, the soldier saluted his commander.

“Lieutenant,” he gasped. “We’ve a problem.”

“And what might that be?”

The young leader looked around, seeing nothing to threaten him save the constant river of people and animals going both ways around us, as though we were a rocky island in the midst of a swiftly running river.

“Wolves, my lieutenant.”

Like us all, the young commander stiffened. “Wolves? What wolves?”

“A pack of wolves ran between the hills to our south, my lieutenant.”

“How many?”

“I’m guessing about four, sir. Maybe five. But they’re big, sir. The biggest wolves I’ve ever seen.”

“Wolves?” Arianne sat up, alarmed. “Big wolves?”

“Don’t fret, Your Highness,” the young leader said quickly. “Wolves are but carrion eaters.”

In my lap, Tuatha grimaced. Wolves never ate carrion. I smothered a giggle with my right hand while my left covered Tuatha’s small face.

He turned back to his soldier. “I don’t think that’s much of a problem. Ignore them and they’ll slink away.”

“I don’t care,” Arianne declared. “I demand your immediate protection.”

The lieutenant swung his horse about. “Um,” he asked diffidently. “From what?”

Arianne sounded affronted. “Why, from the blood-thirsty wolves, of course. They might kill me. Er, us.”

The lieutenant gestured politely toward me. Or rather, he gestured toward Tuatha. “But you’ve a pet wolf, Your Highness.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Arianne snapped, shooting a half-glance over her shoulder. “That’s not a wolf.”

The young officer’s brows hiked to his hairline. “It’s not?”

“It’s a Sabathian lap-dog,” Arianne replied, her tone as haughty as I’ve ever heard it. “The kennel-master assured me it would never grow any bigger.”

Choked coughs from the pair nearest me met this explanation. I dared not look around to see their expressions, for a slave might be whipped for looking a free man in the face.

“Whoever equated royalty with intelligence?” muttered one of them.

“Brother, you got that right,” replied the other.

The lieutenant eyed Arianne with humor and sympathy. “Your Highness has more than enough protection in your henchmen.”

“You asked how you could serve me,” Arianne snapped. “You’ll serve me in this. You’ll ride with me until we put distance between my royal skin and those furry vermin.”

I bit my tongue to prevent a laugh at the lieutenant’s expression of dismay. Don’t push the issue, Arianne, I thought. What’re you thinking? We don’t want them with us. They might have accepted us at face value, a silly noble on a silly quest with her Zhou household. Arianne hadn’t played the part of an aristocrat long enough to maintain the charade with any certainty. Any of us might make a mistake and rouse enough suspicion to warrant a closer inspection of us. I sincerely doubted we’d pass the test.

Kel’Ratan’s bay pawed the ground restlessly. While Kel’Ratan appeared, from my angle of view, to be calm, even bored, his horse again told me he felt tense. I hoped the lieutenant didn’t read horse language very well.

I willed the lieutenant to make his polite excuses, bow and take his men away. For a half instant, I thought he’d do just that. His lips twitched toward a refusal, his head almost shook in negation.

To my dismay, he suddenly smiled and shrugged. Crap, obviously, he didn’t get my message.

“Why ever not?” he asked lightly. “I don’t suppose riding with you for a few miles would do any harm.”

I wouldn’t count on that, me laddie, were I you, I thought. Riding with us could get you killed.

Arianne clapped her hands in delight and I wanted to strangle her. “Come then, ride beside me. Tell me about all the brigands, outlaws and bad men you’ve dispatched out here in His Majesty’s service.”

Our column started out again, this time with eight royal troops added to our train. I listened with half an ear to the tales the young lieutenant spun for Arianne, kept the other half tuned toward the pair of soldiers who rode just off my left side. As many young men did when they had nothing to do but ride their horses, they spoke quietly together.

Mostly they spoke of what they planned to do when their patrol ended, where they might find ale and a friendly girl or two. I gathered their barracks were near the huge tent market we ourselves rode toward, and off-duty soldiers spent much of their free time there. One could find anything one needed amongst the tent-lined avenues, just as one might find anything in a major city. Wine, food, beer, gambling, prostitutes. I learned it even had a name: Ararak.

Eventually, they spoke of us. Of course, men talked in front of slaves as though slaves had no ears to hear with. They dropped their voices, however, so my warriors couldn’t listen in.

“Can you believe Her Highness thinks this mutt is a lap-dog?” asked one.

“That’s a wolf, or I’m eunuch.”

“Drop your britches and let’s see,” the first one teased.

“When it grows big enough to eat her, I reckon she’ll have figured it out.”

“She may not,” the first said. “She doesn’t have a brain to figure with.”

I was rather glad to hear them speak thus, despite the obvious insult. If they thought Arianne was stupid, they may underestimate all of us if it came down to a battle. Tuatha, predictably, bared his needle teeth in a silent snarl. As I covered his face with my hand quickly, the soldiers didn’t see it. I willed Tuatha to stillness and silence. I think he, at least, got the message, for he relaxed under my hand and licked my fingers. I demonstrated my approval by rubbing my thumb between his eyes and down his small muzzle. With my hair half-covering him, I doubted the soldiers saw anything.

“Did you get a look at the twin slaves?” the first one asked.

“I did. Damn, where’d she get a pair of such identical slaves like that?”

“I’d bet she gets offers for them constantly.”

“And turns them down, of course. I would, if I were her. Those two are a prize.”

The soldier sniggered. “They must keep her plenty happy, now her hubby is gone.”

“They probably kept her happy even before he got himself dead.”

They both snickered. By the way their saddle-leather creaked, I visualized them turning in their saddles to openly admire Left and Right. I silently offered prayers those two wouldn’t blush.

The column slowed to a halt. I peered forward, through my hair, hoping against hope the lieutenant decided he’d escorted the brainless princess far enough. Unfortunately, Arianne called the halt.

“I declare,” she exclaimed loudly. “I’m so weary. And thirsty. I must rest a while.”

“We haven’t gone but maybe two miles,” one of my soldiers muttered.

“I doubt ‘twas that far,” said the other.

The tall lieutenant – if Arianne got his name, it hadn’t passed my ears – handed Arianne down from her horse. Rygel dismounted Shardon, while Kel’Ratan also swung down. My boys also jumped reluctantly down from their saddles, pretending to dust their clothes off while shooting me concerned glances under their arms.

“Page,” Arianne called.

Tor, having forgotten his title, failed to react. Instead, he continued his activity of inspecting his grey mare’s legs. Yuri, taking a swift step toward him, kicked Tor in the arse. As any page who disobeyed a command might get the same treatment, none of the Khalidian troops seemed surprised.

Tor, of course, wheeled to face Yuri in hot protest. His protest died away when Yuri scowled and jerked his hand toward Arianne and the lieutenant. His face blushing a hot red, Tor ran to obey her summons.

“The boy is as stupid as she is,” my trooper muttered.

“They’re Zhous,” said the other. “What did you expect? All Zhous are as stupid as rocks.”

I slid down from Mikk’s saddle, trying to make it appear as though I didn’t ride much. The pair stood off to one side, conversing about the merits, or lack thereof, of the Zhou people and culture. I left Tuatha on my saddle, sitting up, blinking in the bright sunshine. I’d have to get him a drink of water, I thought. As I myself thirsted, doubtless he did as well.

Pondering how I might achieve this while still playing the part of a stupid Zhou slave, Rygel’s arm beckoned me. Here we go, I thought, slouching and shuffling forward.

“Get your mistress water,” Rygel ordered haughtily as I walked up to him.

I bowed low and obeyed. Any number of our horses carried full water skins, but I chose to take one from the black gelding. Thinking a princess would prefer her water from a metal cup than trying to drink from the skin itself, I dug around his packs until I found one of our few silver hanaps. I sneaked a quick peek around at my boys as I fumbled about, seeing them also taking the opportunity to drink and offer water to the horses.

My mind occupied with the future problem of watering Tuatha under the noses of the Federal troops, I carried the brimming cup to Arianne. I must not have been paying enough attention to the ground at my feet. Or perhaps being unaccustomed to woolen trousers, I caught my own legs within their folds. Or perhaps with my hair hanging in my face, I couldn’t see the uneven ground well.

No matter what the cause, I tripped.

I fell.

I splashed Arianne with the full cup of water.

Arianne gasped with shock.

Being a kind soul to begin with, she, at first, glanced to me to see if I was hurt. Then, remembering the parts we had to play, a shutter slammed home over her features. Her huge grey-blue eyes neutralized and grew distant. Her fair lips thinned. Her brow puckered in feigned irritation. She drew herself up and, in typical female fashion, looked down at herself. The water fell straight across her tiny bosom and dripped down the brocade and into her lap. Her fingers plucked the wet folds from her tiny chest.

A hand seized hold of my neck.

Oh, shit, I thought, frantic. Slaves get punished even for accidents. As the strong hand dragged me upright, I knew my punishment would be light, while making it appear I was thoroughly thrashed for my clumsiness. I braced myself.

Rygel’s amber eyes glared at me like twin lamps from hell. His upper lip curled in a snarl over bared, white teeth. Sweat slicked his pale skin despite the dry desert heat and the shining sun and dripped down his temples in a steady stream. His wild, wheaten hair plastered to his neck where the sweat dampened it into clinging tendrils. His right hand clenched into a strong fist.

A fist of rage.

I knew instantly my punishment wouldn’t be light, after all.

Deep inside my mind, I felt the impact when Rygel snapped.