"Jane Lindskold - Firekeeper Saga 1 - Through Wolf's Eyes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lindskold Jane)

That there was an advantage to be gained Derian did not doubtтАФ neither had his father and mother. This
was why they had insisted on DerianтАЩs accompanying Earl Kestrel as one of their conditions for setting a
good rate for pack mules, a couple of riding horses, and a coach for the early stages of the journey.

As all Hawk Haven knew, King TedricтАЩs paranoia regarding heirs had proven well founded. Crown
Prince Chalmer had died as a result of a questionable hunting accident. His sister, Lovella, the new crown
princess, had died some years later in a battle against pirates. Neither had left legitimate issue. Prince
Chalmer had been unmarried. Princess Lovella had been careful not to make that mistake, but she had
delayed bearing a child until she felt she wouldnтАЩt be needed as a general.

Now, as King Tedric, still a fierce old eagle of a man, aged, potential heirs buzzed about the throne. The
genealogical picture was so complex that Derian was still working out who had the best claim. There was
even a member of the royal family of Bright Bay with factions agitating for King Tedric to name him heir.

All Derian was certain of was that Prince Barden, if reinstated to his fatherтАЩs favor, would have the best
claim. Lady Blysse, who would be about fifteen now, would have as good a claim as any and better than
many.

And certainly the lost prince or his lost daughter would need a counselor. And who better than the kind
and wise Earl Kestrel, who had risked life and limb to bring father and daughter forth from exile?


That night, a few hours before dawn, Firekeeper curled up among the pups so that they would soak in
her scent and know her even after an absence. Perhaps it was the hot, round bodies clustered around her
own, perhaps the memories awakened by her talk with the One Male, but she dreamed of fire.

Kindled in a shallow pit ringed around with river rock and bordered with cleared dirt. Her fingers
ache a little from striking together the special stones from the little bag the Ones have just given
her. Deep inside, she feels a shiver of fear as she tentatively nurses the fire to life with gentle
breath and offerings of food.

тАЬThatтАЩs right,тАЭ says the One Female, her tones level though her neck ruff is stiff with tension at
remaining so close to the flames. тАЬFeed it little things first: a dry leaf, a bit of grass, a twig. Only
when it is stronger can it eat bigger things.тАЭ

тАЬYes, Mother. How do you know so much?тАЭ

The One Female smiles, lips pulled back from teeth. тАЬI have watched such small fires being made,
Little Two-legs. Only when they are permitted to eat more than their fill do they grow
dangerous.тАЭ

The pale new flames reach out greedily for a twig, lapping her hand. She drops the twig and sucks
on an injured finger.

тАЬIt bit me, Mother!тАЭ

тАЬTamara! DonтАЩt put your hand in the fire, sweetling! YouтАЩll get burnt!тАЭ

The voice is not the rumble of the wolf, thoughts half-expressed by ears and posture rather than
by sounds. These words are all sound, the voice high but strong. The speaker is a two-legs,