“Look at me, Edme,” he said sharply. And when she finally looked up, she did not see anger on Finbar’s face, only sadness. “It was the MacHeaths who did this to you?”
“It was Dunbar,” Edme answered.
The Fengo sighed deeply before speaking. “There have been rumors of this in the past. Now you have confirmed our worst suspicions. These MacHeaths are not true clan wolves. They deserve no place in the Beyond. As Fengo of the Watch, I invoke the privilege accorded only to myself as chieftain of the Supreme Raghnaid to call together a Court of Crait.”
There was a gasp from the wolves. Never in living memory had such a court been called. If the MacHeaths were judged crait, the entire clan would be cast out of the Beyond. From that moment, they would be outclanners.
It felt as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the den. Edme staggered slightly, then dropped her tail, tucked it flat between her legs, and began to turn away.
“Where are you going?” the Fengo asked. But she hardly heard him. “Edme, halt! I asked, where are you going?”
She stopped and turned. An immense tear began to shimmer in her single eye. “The clan I came from is to be judged. I’m not welcome here.”
“What absolute nonsense, my dear,” the Fengo said.
Then another wolf stepped forward. She was a red wolf also missing one eye. Edme had seen her at the gaddergnaw and then again as they entered the Fengo’s den.
“Pardon me, honorable Fengo.”
“Yes, Banja. You have something to say?”
“I only want to suggest that we not be hasty in our decisions. By her own confession, Edme is a malcadh made. So perhaps it is not quite appropriate that … that …”
“That what?” The Fengo’s voice had taken on a frightening edge.
“That she serve in the same capacity as the rest of us. Perhaps it would be advisable that she continue in her gnaw wolf status for a while, at least.”
The Fengo stalked forward on stiff legs, his tail high, his teeth bared. “Banja, you have become as prickly as a burr. There is no purpose to be served in this youngster continuing as a gnaw wolf. She must train to become a wolf of the Watch. Do I have to invoke the privilege of the Sayer to discipline a Watch wolf? I have never used it before — please do not tempt me now!”
Faolan and Edme watched as Banja seemed to shrink in her own pelt. She backed away, her single eye that only a second before glittered now seemed dull as a dry stone.
The Fengo turned his back to Banja, who was slinking into the shadows at the rear of the gadderheal. “Edme, you are not crait. You did not do this to yourself. It was the clan, led by its chieftain, that did this to you. By calling them for a Court of Crait, we ensure that they will never again maim a wolf to make a malcadh. If they are found guilty, they will have no say in any councils held in the gadderheals of the Beyond. Let them destroy themselves. But you, Edme, represent no one except yourself. You have an amazing ability to carve bones. You performed beyond expectation in the byrrgis at the gaddergnaw when you plunged in for the kill rush.” He glanced briefly at Faolan, who cringed at the memory of his lapse of attention at that crucial moment.
Edme, he thought, deserves to serve in the Watch more than I. She made no mistakes during the entire competition. Faolan had simply excelled in carving, which seemed to have made up for his errors on the byrrgis.
“So I say to you, Edme, you are a true Watch wolf despite the deceit of the MacHeath clan. You are a loyal wolf despite their faithless desecration of our most sacred laws. You shall serve with honor and dignity despite having been raised in a clan marked by dishonor and disgrace. We welcome you as a free runner.” Edme felt her marrow trembling. The huge tear that had welled in her eye now ran down her face.
The Fengo paused and looked at Faolan. “We welcome you as a free runner, Edme, and you, Faolan, as the best of your clan. Now Twist and Winks will lead you to your den. At the first phase of the newing, your training will begin.”
“Newing?” Edme whispered as they followed Twist and Winks. “What’s that?”
“It’s an owl word for the new moon. They call it dwenking when it begins to fade,” Faolan replied.
“Where did you learn so much Hoolian?” Edme asked.
“From Gwynneth — she’s a Rogue smith.” Rogue smiths were owls who worked metal but lived apart from other owls.
Twist overheard them. “Ah! Gwynneth. She’ll be coming soon. It is getting to be the season of Morgan and Stormfast. The Rogue smiths particularly love the embers from these two volcanoes. And when the She-Winds blow, both volcanoes begin their most violent eruptions at the same time. It seems like every Rogue smith and Rogue collier throughout the Hoolian kingdoms descends upon us. Oh, what a time it is! But now here is your den. Your training begins shortly, so get some rest.”
“Look at this,” Faolan marveled as they slid down a steep passage into the den. “They’ve even given us pelts. I’ve never slept on a pelt of my own. I only got the discarded ones from my pack after pups had wet them so often they stank.”
“Me never!” Edme said. “Even ones soiled by pups were too good for me.”
They each circled their pelts three times as was the custom with most wolves before settling down for a sleep. The pelts were caribou — winter caribou, so they were all the thicker.
“Edme,” Faolan said. “I think I’m too excited to sleep.”
“Me, too, but we should try.”
“Yes, let’s try,” Faolan replied.
They were silent for a while. Then Faolan piped up again. “Edme, are you asleep yet?” He waited. “Edme? Are you sleeping?”
“Well, I was until you asked me.” She yawned.
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Edme replied. “What is it?”
“I think what you did back there in the Fengo’s den, what you said — you know, the truth about yourself. It was very brave of you.”
“Thank you, Faolan.” You woke me up to tell me I was brave?
They both nestled deeper into their caribou pelts.
“They smell so good, don’t they? No pup pee,” Faolan said.
“Yep, no pup pee.”
Just as Edme was drifting off once again, Faolan said, “You’re not asleep yet, are you, Edme?”
“Almost,” she huffed.
“I just want to say one more thing.”
“Yes, what’s that?”
“You really do deserve to be here — much more than I do. I mean, you made the kill rush.”
Edme’s hackles raised. “Faolan, that is just plain stupid. I have never heard anything more cag mag in my life. You have proven yourself time and time again. Now, kindly let me sleep.”
But still he could not sleep. So he turned to the Bone of Bones. It was not easy to read in the darkness of the cave, but he soon found that certain sections had been carved deeper, and if he ran his tongue over them he could feel the inscription. One section in particular had been carved very deeply as if for extra emphasis. His marrow trembled as he began to read a passage.
There has been a bond between the wolves and the grizzlies in the region of the sacred volcanoes that is vitally important. It is the reason why two species of animals — the top meat eaters of the region — can live peacefully together. Nowhere else in the Beyond do wolves and bears live in such close harmony. But let it be known that there are certain customs that are practiced between ourselves and the bears of the Beyond to ensure that we will always live harmoniously with one another in this small realm within the larger one of the Beyond. One of the most important rules of behavior is that a wolf must never touch the cub of a grizzly, for there is no telling what bloody havoc might ensue, the least of which would be the death of that single wolf.
There are other practices followed that also ensure that the grizzlies and the wolves of the Watch will continue. Good relations between ourselves and the bears is essential because our range for hunting is limited; therefore we must live toge
ther peaceably.
“Urskadamus,” Faolan muttered the bear curse he had heard Thunderheart use was she was deeply irritated. His curse had awakened Edme.
“What are you doing?”
“Reading the Bone of Bones.”
“In this light?”
“The bone is carved deeply. I can feel it with my tongue.” There was utter anguish in Faolan’s voice.
“Faolan, what is it?”
He looked up at Edme. Does she know how close she came to being killed?
“Did you touch the cub?” Faolan whispered.
“I don’t think so.” Her voice was taut with fear.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DUNBAR MACHEATH CONSIDERS
“I FOLLOWED THEM FOR A DAY and a night, until they came to rest on a cliff just above the river. There was a moose carcass on the sandbar in the shallow part of the river. A grizzly and a byrrgis from the Watch were sharing the kill.”
“What!” The wolves who had gathered in the MacHeath gadderheal gasped. There was a flurry of exclamations.
“Shut up!” the chieftain ordered. “They do that sort of thing — the wolves of the Watch and the bears have a close bond. Go on, Fretta, this is getting interesting, very interesting!”
“The grizzly’s cubs were on the banks and she was bringing the meat back to them. When they had all had their fill and the wolves had left, the mother bear napped. The cubs were not a bit tired.”
“Of course, the mother did all the work.” Katria, a she-wolf with a pelt black as a moonless night, spoke softly. But not softly enough. The chieftain leaped upon her and sank his fangs into her haunch. Blood spritzed out of his muzzle from a small cut made by the Litha thorns, which made him even angrier. So he swatted Katria and she skidded across the floor of the gadderheal. “No more from you!” Katria slunk off to a corner. Lying as flat as she could, with her muzzle buried in her paws, she wished herself invisible. How much more could she take of this clan? Kyran had been her daughter — her foolish, foolish daughter. Katria’s mate had not even been that disturbed when Dunbar MacHeath dispatched the slink melf to kill Kyran and Ingliss. All that mattered to her mate, Donaidh, was rising in the ranks of the lords.
In Old Wolf, the word donaidh meant “ruler of the world,” and Katria’s mate seemed to feel that this alone gave him the right to succeed the chieftain Dunbar, who was growing older and meaner by the day.
Katria returned her attention to the scout’s report on the wolves and the bears.
“Edme and Faolan had been watching from on top of a bluff. It was the hot, lazy time of the day and soon Faolan was sleeping soundly. But not Edme. She got up and went over to play with the cubs, until Faolan awakened, darted out, and shooed her away.”
The chieftain chuckled. “If the bear had awakened, she would have made short work of the two.”
“Too bad,” Blyden said.
“No, not at all,” Dunbar countered. “I want more out of this than the death of a stupid little she-wolf like Edme. There is more to be gained than you might suspect.”
“He’s a wily one, our chief,” someone murmured.
“There is one more thing, sir,” Fretta said.
“And what is that?”
Fretta appeared suddenly very nervous. She shifted her eyes away from the chieftain and took a step backward. “There is a rumor … just a rumor, mind you.”
“What kind of a rumor?” Dunbar MacHeath’s voice dropped.
“I heard some owls discussing it, but the rumor is that the Fengo is calling our clan to the Supreme Raghnaid for a Court of Crait.”
“A Court of Crait!” Dunbar MacHeath shot into the air so high he scraped the stone ceiling of the gadderheal cave. A wailing rose from the assembled wolves.
“Silence,” he roared. An immediate hush fell upon the gadderheal. Dunbar MacHeath began to pace up and down the length of the cavern. He stopped and rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling, then regained his composure. “Crait, they say! Crait! Well, we’ll show them who’s crait and who isn’t.
“The little she-wolf lassie has a fondness for grizzly cubs, eh?” he spoke reflectively. “That could get her into a lot of trouble if it were to be found out. For too long, the clans of the Beyond have been beholden to the Watch. And now they call a Court of Crait to judge us! This is nonsense. It is time to restore honor and power to the clans and their chieftains.”
This, thought Katria, has nothing to do with honor and everything to do with power. Raw power.
Dunbar MacHeath regarded the wolves around him. “What is honor? Honor is doing the right thing. For years now, the wolves at the Watch have determined our clan territories, our hunting grounds. It was the wolves of the Watch and the first Fengo who decided this. Why are we a Fengo-centered land? The center of the Beyond is not the Ring, but Great Lupus! We shall ask what would Lupus do to restore our honor. We have been shackled to the Ring of Sacred Volcanoes for too long. Our duty is to restore honor!”
There were loud growls and barks of approval until the chieftain snapped the command for quiet. A thick silence settled upon the gathered wolves as their cunning chieftain spun his net of promises. “This wolf Edme could have offered us a chance for power at the Ring, but she betrayed us. Your first thought is ‘Let the grizzly mother take her retribution on the faithless Edme.’ But what does one wolf killed by a grizzly amount to? Not much. Instead, we’ll use this idiot wolf’s behavior to spark a war that will restore our honor.”
Oh, so that is what Lupus would do? Katria thought. Start a war?
“What kind of a war?” Blyden asked.
Dunbar MacHeath’s paw flashed out and slammed Blyden sideways. “Do not interrupt! I am speaking of a war between the wolves of the Watch and the bears. There are many bears in the valley near the Sacred Ring. If they rose up, it would be the end of the Watch as we know it.”
“And then what?” the chieftain’s mate asked.
“And then, finally, it will be our turn.”
“Our turn!” There was a low murmuring of agreement, which began to swell among the wolves. “Our turn! Our turn!” The words flowed through the gadderheal like a chant.
Resentment festered like a canker within the MacHeaths, carefully cultivated and nurtured by their twisted minds.
“So what is your” — It was Malan, the second-highest-ranking wolf next to the chieftain. He hesitated slightly before completing his thought — “your design, Lord Chieftain?”
“Simply this: We need a hostage. I think the cub — the cub Edme played with.”
“And where will we keep this hostage?” Malan asked.
“The Pit with Old Cags,” Dunbar said with a low snarl.
Katria’s blood froze. Did this chieftain’s depravity know no bounds?
“Aaaah!” The exclamation rippled through the gadderheal.
“Yes, your old chieftain still has a few tricks up his ruff.” Dunbar’s hackles stood up rigidly, and he gave a quick venomous glance at Donaidh.
The Pit was patrolled by Old Cags, a MacHeath wolf with the foaming-mouth disease. When a young pup was disobedient, the most effective threat was “I’ll send you to Old Cags in the Pit. He’ll learn you a thing or two — if you survive.” Very few pups ever died in the Pit. Old Cags had barely a tooth left in his head to bite with. It was just that when a pup returned, it was changed. Pups came back in a perpetual daze, frozen into permanent postures of submission. They did not have the foaming-mouth disease, but it was as if they were in a state of brain fever and they tended to die young. Katria’s mind swirled, and her gut wrenched with revulsion at the idea of condemning an innocent cub to hellfire on earth, a dim world created by her own despicable clan.
A wave of nausea washed over Katria. This would indeed spark a war between the bears and the wolves and even the owls. Total chaos! It was precisely what the MacHeaths wanted, for if they were to be declared crait, they were determined to bring the entire Beyond down with them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
/> FIRST WATCH
“HURRY ALONG NOW. NO TIME to waste! You can’t be late for your first night of training.” Twist and Winks had scrambled down the steep sloping entrance of the den.
“I don’t suppose you’ve slept a wink, or should I say a Winks?” The brown wolf squinted with her good eye.
“Probably not,” Twist said. “I remember how excited I was on my first night here. But you don’t want to be late. Snowdon gets incredibly cranky if he has to stay on even a second beyond his shift, and Colleen, too.”
“Colleen? Snowdon? Are they our taigas, too?”
“Oh, no, dear,” Winks replied. “We are your taigas. They are just the Watch wolves for Morgan and Stormfast this cycle. The moon claw will be up soon.”
“Moon claw?” Faolan asked.
“That’s the first phase of the newing,” Edme said quickly. “Because it looks like a wolf’s claw.”
“Yes, indeed,” Winks replied. “You must have been studying the Bone of Bones.”
Faolan and Edme followed their two taigas out of the den and began trotting at a brisk pace toward the easternmost side of the Ring. It was a strange and wondrous landscape. There was a brittle crunching sound beneath their feet as they crossed the rivers of lava that had flowed down the slopes and solidified into sheets of black glass. Flames licked the night like tongues of fire. The wolves on watch seemed determined to touch the sky as they sprang into the air to look for graymalkins.
The volcanoes were becoming slightly more active. The moonless night was scored by the tracery of red sparks. High arcing streams of embers mingled with the ice-bright stars in an astral dance through the darkness. And in the background came the wild music of the Watch wolves baying. Never had Faolan and Edme heard such howling. Each cry, each voice enlarged by the other, gaining a deep resonance. It was as if Faolan’s and Edme’s ears were being opened to a new universe of sound. Oddly enough, the howling was not nearly as loud as what they’d heard living with their packs. It was of a lower volume but a more powerful intensity, as if these Watch wolves had discovered a voice composed only of the strongest chords.