“They will avoid you as surely as Forged ones will follow you,” Black Rolf said calmly.
A chill went down my spine. “Forged ones? But Forged ones seem to have no Wit at all. I do not sense them with my Wit-sense at all, only with eyes or nose or . . .”
“To your Old Blood senses, all creatures give off a kinship warmth. All save the Forged ones. This is true?”
I nodded uneasily.
“They have lost it. I do not know how it is stolen from them, but that is what Forging does. And it leaves an emptiness in them. This much is well known among those of the Old Blood, and we know, too, that we are more likely to be followed and attacked by Forged ones. Especially if we use those talents carelessly. Why this is so, no one can say with certainty. Perhaps only the Forged ones know, if they truly ‘know’ anything anymore. But it gives us one more reason to be cautious of ourselves and our talents.”
“Are you suggesting that Nighteyes and I should refrain from using the Wit?”
“I am suggesting that perhaps you should stay here for a while, and take the time to learn to master the talents of the Old Blood. Or you may find yourself in more battles such as the one you fought yesterday.” He permitted himself a small smile.
“I said nothing to you of that attack,” I said quietly.
“You did not need to,” he pointed out. “I am sure that everyone of Old Blood for leagues around heard you when you fought them. Until you both learn to control how you speak to one another, nothing between you is truly private.” He paused, then added, “Did you never think it strange that Forged ones would spend time attacking a wolf when there is apparently nothing to gain from such an attack? They only focus on him because he is bonded to you.”
I gave Nighteyes a brief apologetic glance. “I thank you for your offer. But we have a thing we must do and it will not wait. I think that we shall encounter fewer Forged ones as we move inland. We should be fine.”
“That is likely. The ones that go so far inland are gathered up by the King. Still, any that may be left will be drawn to you. But even if you encounter no more Forged ones, you are likely to encounter the King’s guards. They take a special interest in Witted folk these days. Of late, many of the Old Blood have been sold to the King, by neighbors, and even family. His gold is good, and he does not even ask much proof that they are truly Old Blood. Not for years has the vendetta against us burned so hot.”
I looked away uncomfortably, well aware of why Regal hated those with the Wit. His coterie would support him in that hate. I felt sickened as I thought of innocent folk sold to Regal that he might revenge himself on them in my stead. I tried to keep the rage I felt masked.
Hilda came back to the table, looked it over consideringly, then seized the pot that held the honeycombs in both her paws. She waddled carefully away from the table, to seat herself in the corner and begin a careful licking out of the, pot. Holly continued to watch me. I could read nothing from her eyes.
Black Rolf scratched at his beard, then winced as his fingers found a sore spot. He smiled a careful, rueful smile at me. “I can sympathize with your desire to kill King Regal. But I do not think you shall find it as easy as you suppose.”
I just looked at him, but Nighteyes rolled a light snarl in the back of his throat. Hilda looked up at that and thumped down on all fours, the honey jar rolling away from her across the floor. Black Rolf sent her a glance and she sat back, but fixed both Nighteyes and me with a glare. I don’t think there is anything as gut-tightening as an angry glare from a brown bear. I did not move. Holly sat up straight in her chair but remained calm. Above us in the rafters, Sleet rattled his plumage.
“If you bay out all your plans and grievances to the night moon, you cannot be astonished that others know of them. I do not think you shall encounter many of the Old Blood who are sympathetic to King Regal . . . or any, perhaps. In fact, many would be willing to aid you if you asked them. Still, silence is wisest, for a plan such as that.”
“From your song earlier, I would suspect you share my sentiments,” I said quietly. “And I thank you for your warning. But Nighteyes and I have had to be circumspect before about what we shared with one another. Now we know there is a danger of being overheard, I think we can compensate for it. One question I will ask of you. What care the City Guard of Crowsneck if a man has a few drinks and sings a mocking song about the . . . King?” I had to force the word from my throat.
“None at all, when they are Crowsneck men. But that is no longer the case in Crowsneck, nor in any of the river-road towns. Those are King’s guards, in the livery of the Crowsneck Guard, and paid from the town purse, but King’s Men all the same. Regal had not been king two months before he decreed that change. He claimed the law would be enforced more equitably if City Guards were all sworn King’s Men, carrying out the law of the Six Duchies above any other. Well. You have seen how they carry it out . . . mostly by carrying off whatever they can from any poor sot who treads upon the King’s toes. Still, those two in Crowsneck are not so bad as some I’ve heard of. Word is that down in Sandbend, a cutpurse or thief can make an easy living, so long as the Guard gets a share. The town masters are powerless to dismiss the Guards the King has appointed. Nor are they allowed to supplement them with their own men.”
It sounded only too much like Regal. I wondered how obsessed he would become with power and control. Would he set spies upon his spies? Or had he already done so? None of it boded well for the Six Duchies as a whole.
Black Rolf broke me from my musings. “Now, I’ve a question I would ask of you.”
“Be free to ask,” I invited him, but held to myself how freely I should answer.
“Late last night . . . after you had finished with the Forged ones. Another attacked you. I could not sense who, only that your wolf defended you, and that he somehow went . . . somewhere. That he threw his strength into a channel I did not understand, nor could follow. I know no more than that he, and you, were victorious. What was that thing?”
“A servant of the King,” I hedged. I did not wish to entirely refuse him an answer, and this seemed harmless, as he seemed to already know it.
“You fought what they call the Skill. Didn’t you?” His eyes locked with mine. When I did not answer, he went on anyway. “There are many of us who would like to know how it was done. In our past, Skilled ones have hunted us down as if we were vermin. No one of the Old Blood can say that his family has not suffered at their hands. Now those days have come again. If there is a way to use the talents of the Old Blood against those who wield the Farseer’s Skill, it is knowledge worth much to us.”
Holly sidled from the corner, then came to grip the back of Rolf’s chair and peer over his shoulder at me. I sensed the importance of my answer to them.
“I cannot teach you that,” I said honestly.
His eyes held mine, his disbelief plain. “Twice tonight, I have offered to teach you all I know of the Old Blood, to open to you all the doors that only your ignorance keep closed. You have refused me, but by Eda, I have offered, and freely. But this one thing I ask, this one thing that might save so many lives of our own kind, you say you cannot teach me?”
My eyes flickered to Hilda. Her eyes had gone beady and bright again. Black Rolf was probably unaware of how his posture mimicked that of his bear. They both had me measuring the distance to the door, while Nighteyes was already on his feet and ready to flee. Behind Rolf, Holly cocked her head and stared at me. Above us, the hawk turned his head to watch us. I forced myself to loosen my muscles, to behave much more calmly than I felt. It was a tactic learned from Burrich when confronting any distressed animal.