Part 14 (1/2)

”Who is this wolf?” Grizz asked, somewhat dazed.

Edme stepped forward. ”She's Andreen MacHeath, point wolf for the MacHeath clan's a.s.sa.s.sination operations.”

”Did you kill her?” the Bear of Bears roared.

”Not me.” Edme turned her head to look for Katria.

”I did,” said Katria, stepping out from behind a yondo. ”I'm Katria, former outflanker of the MacHeath clan, now a member of the n.o.ble MacNamaras.”

”You saved my life,” said the Bear of Bears, and began to bow down to her painfully on his arthritic knees, though even bowed, he stood twice as high as the black-as-night wolf. ”You saved my life,” he repeated.

”I did, but there are two wolves who saved many lives,” Katria said.

”Wh-what a” Grizz stammered softly. It was as if his mouth could not form the words.

”Edme, the wolf who killed the MacHeath chieftain, and the other, the silver wolf. These two found the cub and brought them here to stop a war that should never have started.”

”Yes, yes,” the Bear of Bears said softly, marveling at the wonder of it all.

The Fengo now made his way up to where the Bear of Bears knelt.

”Honorable Grizz, Bear of Bears, the peace that has reigned in the Beyond for over a thousand years was nearly destroyed by the brutality of one clan.”

He looked toward the MacHeaths. Dunbar and Andreen were dead. Donaidh had escaped, but Malan and Fretta had been rounded up. ”As Fengo of the Watch, I now invoke the privilege accorded only to myself, the privilege of the Supreme Sayer. On occasions of great peril, it is my right to dispense with a Court of Crait and issue an immediate p.r.o.nouncement a” a Fenga.s.so, or last word of the Fengo. I hereby declare that the MacHeaths are no longer a clan of the wolves of the Beyond.” Malan and Fretta's eyes flashed green in the night as they looked at each other. Was it regret, remorse, or was there the glint of a challenge? Edme wondered.

”From this moment hence, they are outclanners and shall be treated as such. Nevermore will their gnaw wolves be permitted to partic.i.p.ate in the gaddergnaw compet.i.tions for selection to the Watch. Nor will they be permitted to attend the moon celebrations of the longest night, when all the clans gather. Nor will they be permitted to join with packs of other clans for byrrgises. I shall ask the Namara to dispatch a patrol from her clan to chase the MacHeaths from the Beyond into the Outermost immediately. From this moment, they are crait!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

EIGHT MOONS Pa.s.sING.

THE MOON OF THE FLIES HAD come and gone, along with the Moon of the Mossflowers and the Caribou Moon, followed by the three winter moons. The odd thing was that, although the sun still rose and fell according to the seasons and the days were growing longer now, the rivers were still frozen. It was the Moon of the Cracking Ice, but snow still lay thick on the ground. Faolan and Edme were nearing the completion of their first year on the Watch of the Ring. They had now perched on every cairn that overlooked each of the five volcanoes. They had learned the volcanoes' temperaments and how their moods changed through a moon from first s.h.i.+ne to no s.h.i.+ne, when the moon vanished. They knew the smell of each volcanoes' sulfurous expulsions. They knew that the most boring watch was on Kiel, a s.h.i.+eld volcano whose long, gently sloping lava flows yielded the fewest retrievable coals and therefore was the least visited by colliering owls.

One evening early in the Moon of the Cracking Ice, Faolan stood perched on a cairn overlooking Dunmore. He had just completed a series of scanning jumps off the keybone when he looked down and saw a wolf trotting toward him. An unmistakable wolf, the Sark of the Slough.

She was a freakish creature with eyes of different colors a” one the true green of a wolf of the Beyond, the other an amberish gold that skittered about without any seeming focus. Her pelt blew like a She-Wind in raging disorder about her bony frame, so she looked like a small approaching weather front. Icicles had formed on the fur beneath her jaw so it seemed as if she had a long, glistening beard, which added to the strangeness of her appearance. But along with Gwynneth and Edme, the Sark was one of Faolan's closest friends in the Beyond.

She looked up at Faolan and said, ”Come with me.”

”I can't. I'm on watch,” Faolan answered.

”I've arranged it with the Fengo,” the Sark replied. And sure enough, Faolan saw Twistling trotting toward the cairn.

”Go along now, young'un. You got business to do with the Sark. I'll take this s.h.i.+ft and have arranged to cover the rest while you're gone.”

Business? Faolan was completely confused and suddenly apprehensive. A quiver ran through his marrow.

Before the moon had risen to wolf's peak, they were well on their way. The Sark had set a course due north, but now they had begun to veer to the east. She hadn't spoken since they left, not a word about their destination or why she was taking him to it. He knew better than to ask. Unnecessary questions made the Sark incredibly cranky, and a cranky Sark was not one that any wolf wanted to deal with. A Masked Owl suddenly appeared overhead.

”Gwynneth!” Faolan howled. But she merely looked down and gave him an intensely somber look. The quiver that had coursed through his marrow quieted and was replaced with a strange and deep longing. He quickened his pace.

”Slow down,” the Sark said gently. ”Don't wear yourself out. We'll get there in time.”

In time for what? he wondered. He thought he noticed a glimmering in the Sark's steady eye, a tear. Gwynneth swooped down to fly low, and Faolan felt a quiet shudder of air as she hovered over him. It seemed to Faolan as if he were folded into the shadow of her wings, as if she were tying to protect him. For the next day and a half, they traveled this way, making only brief stops for rest. Faolan had never been so far north. It was in the late afternoon with the sun still bright on the horizon that he realized they were crossing the top of a peninsula.

”We're going to the MacNamara clan, aren't we?” Faolan said.

The Sark stopped. The snow was up to her belly. Gwynneth lighted down on a snow-covered rock and spread her talons wide to support her weight so that she didn't sink into the powder. Faolan looked at the two creatures regarding him with tear-filled eyes. ”Would you two like to tell me what this is about?”

”Fao-lan.” The Sark's voice cracked. She began again. ”Faolan, we're taking you to meet your first Milk Giver.”

The Namara herself came out to greet them and lead them to a den at the edge of the encampment. ”She's waiting. Brangwen thought it best that we not tell her yet.” The Namara turned to Faolan, who was still reeling with astonishment and had not uttered a word since being told. ”You mother, your first Milk Giver, is dying. She's blind, so she might not know you.”

”Oh, but she will! SHE WILL!” he replied fiercely.

”Come, young'un.” A large, handsome red wolf appeared beside Faolan. ”I am your mother's second mate, Brangwen MacDonegal. Follow me.”