Wolf-Speaker. Tamora Pierce

but not destructively, as parasites do. An example might be the bird who rides on a bison, picking insects from the beast’s coat.’

      ‘Oh. I don’t know what I think of it. I never tried it.’

      ‘Now would be a good time,’ he said helpfully. ‘The vegetables will take a while to cook. Why not try it with Cloud?’

      Daine looked around until she saw the mare, still at the rear of the cave with Mangle and Spots. ‘Cloud, can I?’

      ‘Cloud, may I,’ the man corrected.

      You can or you may. I don’t know if it will help, said the mare.

      The girl went to sit near the pony, while Mangle and Spots ventured outside to graze again. Numair began to get out the ingredients for campfire bread as Kitten watched with interest.

      ‘Don’t let him stir the dough too long,’ Daine ordered the dragon. ‘It cooks up hard when he forgets.’ Kitten chirped as Numair glared across the cave at his young pupil.

      The girl closed her eyes. Breathing slowly, she reached deep inside to find the pool of copper light that was her wild magic. Calling a thread of fire from that pool, she reached for Cloud, and tried to bind their minds with it.

      Cloud whinnied, breaking the girl’s concentration. That hurt, the mare snapped. If it’s going to hurt, I won’t do it! Try it with less magic.

      Shutting her eyes, Daine obeyed. This time she used a drop of copper fire, thinking to glue her mind to Cloud’s. The mare broke contact the minute Daine’s fire touched hers. Daine tried it a second, and a third time, without success.

      It’s the same kind of magic, she told Cloud, frustrated. It’s not any different from what’s in you.

      It hurts, retorted the pony. If that badger knew this would hurt and told you to try it anyway, I will tell him a few things the next time he visits.

      I don’t do it a-purpose, argued Daine. How can I do it without paining you?

      Without the fire, Cloud suggested. You don’t need it to talk to us, or to listen. Why should you need it now?

      Daine bit a thumbnail. Cloud was right. She only used the fire of her magic when she was tired, or when she had to do something hard. She was tired now, and the smell of cooking ham had filled her nostrils. ‘Let’s try again tomorrow,’ she said aloud. ‘My head aches.’

      ‘Come and eat,’ called Numair. ‘You’ve been at it nearly an hour.’

      Daine went to the fire, Cloud following. Digging in her pack, the girl gave the pony a carrot before she sat. Numair handed over a bowl of mildly spiced vegetables and cooked ham. Kitten climbed into the girl’s lap, forcing Daine to arrange her arms around the dragon as she ate. Between mouthfuls she explained what had taken place.

      Cloud listened, nibbling the carrot as her ears flicked back and forth. When Daine finished, the mare suggested, Perhaps I am the wrong one to try with.

      ‘Who, then, Cloud?’ Daine asked. ‘I’ve known you longer than anybody.’ She yawned. The experiment, even though it hadn’t worked, had worn her out.

      But I am a grazer – you are a hunter. Why not try with a hunter? It may be easier to do this first with wolves. You are practically a wolf as it is.

      ‘And if I forget I’m human?’

      (‘I wish I could hear both sides of this conversation,’ Numair confided softly to Kitten. ‘I feel so left out, sometimes.’)

      The man said you won’t, replied Cloud. He should know. Brokefang is part of you already. Ask the stork-man. He will tell you I am right.

      Daine relayed this to Numair. ‘She has a point,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t thought the predator-prey differential would constitute a barrier, but she knows you better than I.’ He watched Daine yawn again, hugely, and smiled. ‘It can wait until tomorrow. Don’t worry about cleanup. I’ll do it.’

      ‘But it’s my turn,’ she protested. ‘You cooked, so I have to clean.’

      ‘Go to bed,’ her teacher said quietly. ‘The moon will not stop its monthly journey simply because I cooked and cleaned on the same meal.’

      She climbed into her bedroll and was asleep the moment she pulled up the blankets. When the wolves returned much later, she woke just enough to see them group around her. With Kitten curled up on one side and Brokefang sprawled on the other, Daine finished her night’s rest smiling.

      It was damp and chilly the next morning, the cold a taste of the months to come. Breakfast was a quiet meal, since neither Daine nor Numair was a morning person. They tidied up together and readied the horses for the day’s journey.

      The wolves had gone to finish the previous night’s kill. They were returning when Numair handed Daine a small tube of paper tied with plain ribbon. ‘Can we send this on to the king today?’ he asked.

      Daine nodded, and reached with her magic. Not far from their campsite was the nest of a golden eagle named Sunclaw. Daine approached her politely and explained what she wanted. She could have made the bird do as she wished, but that was not the act of a friend. The eagle listened with interest, and agreed. When she came, Daine thanked her, and made sure the instructions for delivering Numair’s report were fixed in Sunclaw’s mind. Numair, who had excellent manners, thanked Sunclaw as well, handing the letter to her with a bow.

      Brokefang had watched all of this with great interest. You have changed, he commented when Sunclaw had gone. You know so much more now. You will make the two-leggers stop ruining the valley.

      Daine frowned. I don’t know if I can, she told the wolf. Humans aren’t like the People. Animals are sensible. Humans aren’t.

      You will help us, Brokefang repeated, his faith in her shining in his eyes. You said that you would. Now, are you and the man ready? It is time to go.

      Daine put Kitten atop the packs on Mangle’s back. Numair mounted Spots, and the girl mounted Cloud. ‘Lead on,’ the mage told Brokefang.

      The wolves trotted down the trail away from the cave, followed by the horses and their riders. When the path forked, one end leading to the nearby river and the other into the mountains, Brokefang led them uphill.

      ‘If we follow the river, won’t that take us into the valley?’ Daine called. ‘It won’t be so hard on us.’

      Brokefang halted. It is easier, he agreed, as Daine translated for Numair. Humans go that way all the time. So also do soldiers, and men with magic fires. It is best to avoid them. Men kill wolves on sight, remember, pack-sister?

      ‘Men with magic fires?’ Numair asked, frowning.

      Men like you, said Brokefang, with the Light Inside.

      ‘We call them mages,’ Daine told him. ‘Or sorcerers, or wizards, or witches. What we call them depends on what they do.’

      Numair thought for a moment. ‘Lead on,’ he said at last. ‘I prefer to avoid human notice for as long as possible. And thank you for the warning.’

      The humans, Kitten, and the horses followed the wolves up along the side of the mountains that rimmed the valley of the Long Lake. By noon they had come to a section of trail that was bare of trees. The wolves didn’t slow, but trotted into the open. Daine halted, listening. Something nasty was tickling at the back of her mind, a familiar sense that had nothing to do with mortal animals. Getting her crossbow, she put an arrow in the notch and fixed it in place with the clip.

      Numair took a step forwards, and Cloud grabbed his tunic in her teeth.

      ‘Stormwings,’ Daine whispered. Numair drew back from the bare ground. Under the tree cover, they watched the sky.

      High overhead glided three creatures with human heads and chests, and great, spreading wings and claws. Daine knew from bitter experience that their