Prince of Dogs

“It is time to think of marriage for Sapientia,” said Henry when the reading was finished. “The king of Salia has many sons.”

“It might be well,” suggested Villam, “to send Princess Sapientia to Eastfall once she has regained her strength. Then she would gain some experience in ruling.”

“It is better to keep her beside me as we travel,” said Henry in the tone which meant he intended no argument to sway him. “But Eastfall needs a margrave. Perhaps I should send Theophanu to Eastfall …” With the king musing in this way, the happy feast passed swiftly. For the first time in months, for the first time, really, since he had heard the terrible news of Sanglant’s death, Henry looked cheerful.

The court feasted for three days, for it took a feast of such magnificence to properly thank God for Their blessings upon the royal house. Sapientia was as yet too weak to appear, and in any case it was traditional for a woman to lie abed for a week in seclusion before receiving visitors. That way she might not be contaminated by any taint brought from the outside or any unholy thoughts at this blessed time.

Hanna was astounded yet again at the sheer amount of food and drink the court consumed. She could only imagine what her mother would say, but then, her mother might well say that as the king prospers, so does the kingdom.

Ai, Lady, at this time last year she and Liath had just left Heart’s Rest behind, riding out with Wolfhere, Hathui, and poor brave Manfred. She touched her Eagle’s badge. Where was Liath now?

2

LIATH hunkered down, arms hooked around her knees. The ground was too wet to sit on, and everything was damp. Mud layered wagon wheels and dropped in clumps from the undersides when they jolted over the roads. Every branch scattered moisture on any fool sorry enough to touch it. The grass wept water, and the trees dripped all day even when it wasn’t raining.

Though they had waited until the first day of the month of Sormas to leave, it was still a wet time to be marching to war. But that deterred no one—not with such a prize within reach.

“Can you do it?” whispered Alain. He kept a cautious three steps back from her. Sorrow and Rage sat panting a stone’s throw away.

She did not reply. That the hounds would still not come near her only made her wonder if they sensed the awful power trapped inside her. Wood burns. She shuddered. Would she ever learn to control it? She had to try.

“We don’t have much time,” he said. “They’ll come looking for me soon.”

“Hush.” She lifted a hand, and he shuffled another step back. Behind, the hounds whined. In wood lies the propensity to burn, the memory of flame. Perhaps, as Democrita said, tiny indivisible building blocks, hooked and barbed so that they could fasten together, made up all things in the universe; in wood some of these must be formed of the element of fire. If she could only reach through the window of fire and call fire to them, they would remember flame—

And burn.

Wood ignited with a roar. Fire shot upward to lick the branches of the nearest tree. Liath stumbled away from the searing heat. The hounds yelped and slunk backward, growling.

“Lord Above!” swore Alain. He took another step away from her and drew the sign of the Circle at his breast—as if for protection.

Falling to one knee, Liath stared at the fire. Gouts of flame boiled up into the sky. Branches hissed. Grass within the ring of penetrating heat sizzled and blackened. Only when it was this wet dared she attempt to call fire; only when it was this wet was it safe to attempt an act whose consequences she could not control.

A light rain began to fall. Alain pulled his hood up over his head and took a hesitant step toward her. Liath stared into fire and in her mind twisted the leaping flames into an archway that would let her see into another part of the world.

“Hanna,” she whispered. There. The sight was more of a whisper than a scene unfolding before her. Hanna stands beside Hathui; all else is shadow. But Liath could see by the set of Hanna’s shoulders, the sudden grin she flashed at a comment made by the older Eagle, that she was well. Hugh hadn’t harmed her.

Reaching inside her cloak, she drew out the gold feather. It glinted fire, bright sparks, a reflection of the blaze. Alain murmured an oath. The hounds growled.

“Like to like,” she murmured. “Let this be a link between us, old one.”

As a curtain draws aside, revealing the chamber behind, so the fire’s roar without abating shifted and changed in pitch. A low rumble like distant thunder shivered around her. The veil parted and within it, beyond it, she saw the Aoi sorcerer.

Startled, he looks up. Flax half twisted into rope dangles from his hand. “What is this?” he asks. “You are the one I have seen before.”