Wolf-Speaker. Tamora Pierce

as monsters who dishonoured the dead. Eyes cold, she aimed at the largest of the three.

      Numair put a hand on her arm. ‘Try to keep an open mind, magelet,’ he whispered. ‘They haven’t attacked us.’

      ‘Yet,’ she hissed.

      Brokefang looked back to see what was wrong, and saw what they were looking at. These are harriers, he said. They help the soldiers and the mages.

      Daine relayed this to Numair as the wolves moved on, to wait for them in the trees on the other side of the clearing.

      ‘Stormwings that work in conjunction with humans,’ the man commented softly. ‘That sounds like Emperor Ozorne’s work.’ The emperor of the southern kingdom of Carthak was a mage who seemed to have a special relationship with minor immortals, and with Stormwings in particular. Some, Numair included, thought it was Ozorne’s doing that had freed so many immortals from the Divine Realms in the first place. He had his eye on Tortall’s wealth, and many thought he meant to attack when the country’s defenders were worn out from battling immortals.

      ‘Now can I shoot them?’ Daine wanted to know.

      ‘You may not. They still have done nothing to harm us.’

      The Stormwings flew off. Vexed with her friend, Daine fumed and waited until she could no longer sense the immortals before leading the way onto the trail once more. They were halfway across the open space when Numair stopped, frowning at a large, blackened crater down the slope from them. ‘That’s not a natural occurrence,’ he remarked, and walked towards it.

      ‘This isn’t the time to explore!’ Daine hissed. If he heard, he gave no sign of it. With a sigh the girl told the horses to move on. ‘The wolves won’t touch you,’ she said when Spots wavered. ‘Now go!’

      Follow me, Cloud told the horses; they obeyed. Daine, with Kitten peering wide-eyed over her shoulder, followed Numair.

      Blackened earth sprayed from the crater’s centre. Other things were charred as well: bones, round metal circles that had been shields before the leather covers burned, trees, axeheads, arrowheads, swords. The heat that had done this must have been intense. The clay of the mountainside had glazed in spots, coating the ground with a hard surface that captured what was left of this battle scene.

      Numair bent over a blackened lump and pulled it apart. Daine looked at a mass of bone close to her, and saw it was a pony’s skeleton. Metal pieces from the dead mount’s tack had fallen in among the bones. Looking around, she counted other dead mounts. The smaller bone heaps belonged to human beings.

      Grimly Numair faced her and held up his find. Blackened, half-burned, in tatters, it was a piece of cloth with a red horse rearing on a gold-brown field. ‘Now we know what happened to the Ninth Rider Group.’

      Daine’s hand trembled with fury. She had a great many ties to the Queen’s Riders, and the sight of that charred flag was enough to break her heart. ‘And you stopped me from shooting those Stormwings.’

      ‘They don’t kill with blasting fire like this,’ Numair replied. ‘This is battle magic. I have yet to hear of a Stormwing being a war mage.’

      ‘I bet they knew about this, though.’

      Numair put a hand on her shoulder. ‘You’re too young to be so closed-minded,’ he told her. ‘A little tolerance wouldn’t come amiss.’ Folding the remains of the flag, he climbed back up to the trail.

       CHAPTER 2

       THE VALLEY OF THE LONG LAKE

      Three days after leaving the cave, the wolf pack led the humans and their ponies through a gap in the mountains. At its deepest point they found a spring, where they ate lunch; from there they followed a stream downhill, until Brokefang stopped.

      You must look at something, he told Daine. Leave the horses by that rock – they will be safe there, with the rest of the pack to guard them.

      Daine, with Kitten on her back in a sling, and Numair followed them up a long tumble of rock slabs. When they came to the top, they could see for miles. Far below was the Long Lake. Daine noticed a village where a small river – part of the stream they had followed – met the lake. Not far offshore, linked to the village by a bridge, was an island capped by a large, well-built castle.

      Numair drew his spyglass from its case. Stretching it to full length, he put it to his eye and surveyed the valley.

      What is that? asked the wolf, watching him.

      ‘It’s a glass in a tube,’ Daine replied. ‘It makes things that are far away seem closer.’

      ‘This is Fief Dunlath, without a doubt.’ Numair offered the spyglass to Daine. ‘I can’t see the northern reaches of the lake from here. Is that where the damage is being done? The holes and the tree cutting?’

      Most of it, Brokefang replied. That and dens for the soldiers, like those they have at the south gate.

      ‘Soldiers at the northern and southern ends of the valley?’ asked Daine. ‘Then why not here, if they want to put watchdogs at the passes?’

      Most two-leggers follow the river in and out, answered Brokefang. Few come here as we did. When they do, usually the harriers catch them outside, as they did those Riders you spoke of.

      Numair listened as Daine translated. ‘This is not good,’ he muttered, squinting at Dunlath Castle. ‘There is no reason for this fief to be heavily guarded. Under law they’re only entitled to a force of forty men-at-arms … May I see that again?’ He held out a hand, and Daine returned the glass.

      They continued to examine the valley until Brokefang said, Come. We have a way to go still. Let us find the meeting place, and my mate.

      Daine and Numair followed the wolf back to the spot where they had left the horses. A strange wolf had joined the others, a grey-and-white female with a boldly marked face. Brokefang raced to meet her, tail erect and wagging gaily.

      ‘Well, he’s glad to see this one,’ Numair remarked as they followed more slowly. ‘Who’s the stranger?’

      ‘His mate, Frostfur. The boss female.’

      Where were you? Frostfur was demanding of Brokefang. What took so long? You said you were going only to the other side of the mountain and you have been gone four nights.

      Daine sighed. She’d forgotten how much she disliked Frostfur. During her time with the pack, Rattail had been Brokefang’s mate. A sweeter, gentler wolf Daine had never met. After her death, Brokefang had chosen her sister. The new female pack leader was a cross, fidgety animal who had never accepted Daine.

      We were travelling with two-leggers and horses, Brokefang told his mate. They can’t run as fast as we can.

      The only two-legger we need is her. Why didn’t you leave those others behind? We can hunt if we are hungry. We don’t need food brought to us, like the humans’ dogs.

      At this, Cloud, who stood between Frostfur and the horses, laid back her ears. Kitten reared up in her sling, bracing her forepaws on Daine’s shoulder, and screeched at the she-wolf. Daine was shocked to hear her friend voice something that sounded so rude. Frostfur looked at them and bared her teeth.

      ‘Enough!’ the girl ordered. ‘We’re friends. That means you, Frostfur, and these horses. If you disobey, you’ll be sorry.’

      Frostfur met her eyes, then looked away. You are different, the wolf said. You and the pony both. I suppose you don’t even realize it. The pack never was the same after you left it. How much will you change us this time?

      Brokefang nuzzled his mate. It will be good, he told Frostfur. You’ll see. Take us to the pups. You’ll feel better