As he approached the island, Yazour looked on at the oblivious Mage in pity.—Surely now the Lady would forgive him, and accept his assistance? She looked so desolate, how could she help but want his company? It was only common sense. But the Khazalim warrior had already had a taste of Magefolk stubbornness from Aurian, and knew how little sense of any kind entered into the picture. Lonely or not, Eilin was just as likely to throw him out of the Vale simply in order to maintain the splendor of her solitude. That way, she could weep unseen as much as she wanted, and her pride would remain inviolate.
That accursed stiff-necked pride! Yazour thought. It won’t get her anywhere.—For her own good, I must persuade her. In any case, Iscalda needs her help—and when I explain the situation to her, she won’t turn away someone in such dire need of healing. Besides—he looked down at the wolf cub that he carried. She must owe me a favor for finding her grandson. He turned to the white mare, who was waiting patiently at his side. It had taken a long time for them to get her this far with her slow, halting, and three-legged gait, but she had refused to stay behind and wait for her friend to return with the Lady. In any case, he certainly couldn’t stand here any longer, Little Wolf was desperately in need of care and attention. Yazour took a deep breath. “I’m counting on you to help me with this,” he told the horse—though the Reaper knows how you could, he added in the privacy of his thoughts. Taking a firmer grip on the wolf cub, he stepped out into the sunlight.
Eilin started violently at the sound of his approach. “You! What are you doing here? Why in the name of all the Gods didn’t you leave with the others?”
All of Yazour’s carefully prepared speeches flew out of his head. “I . . .” He cleared his throat and held up the wolf cub. “Lady, I have found your grandson.”
“What? That wolf—my grandson? How dare you make sport with me, Mortal!” Eilin leapt to her feet, her face crimson with rage.
Yazour felt his own anger blaze up inside him at such an unfair accusation. “I do not make sport with you. For Aurian’s sake I would never do such a thing,” he shouted at her. “Look!” Again, he held the cub out toward her. “Just look at him, you stubborn woman. He was cursed into this shape by Aurian’s enemy. She had no chance to tell you herself, but despite his outward appearance, Wolf is your own flesh and blood, and he needs your help. For his sake and the sake of your daughter, learn to look at him with your heart, and see him as he truly is.”
Eilin opened her mouth, then closed it again. Slowly, she reached out and took the cub into her arms. As Yazour watched, her eyes filled, and tears went streaking down her cheeks. “It is my grandson,” she whispered. “It is ...”
Suddenly, she became all briskness. “By the Gods, this won’t do! Yazour, find some dead wood and make a fire. And we’ll need a shelter—we can’t expect the poor little thing to sleep out in the open tonight. And you, you poor creature
. . .” She turned to Iscalda, addressing her just as though she were still human. “Poor child, be welcome. Only be patient a little while longer, and I will see what I can do to ease you.. ..”
Her words tailed away into silence as Yazour rushed off to do her bidding. He was glad of a chance to get away quickly, before she could notice the smile on his face.
3
The King Beneath the Hill
It was wonderful, Eilin reflected, how a person’s life and prospects could change so dramatically within the brief span of an hour. Her new responsibilities left her no time to brood. Yazour had cleared the old fireplace in what remained of the kitchen of her ruined tower on the island.—Now he was building a rough, lean-to shelter against the only portion of the wall that was left standing. Though she had sent out her strongest thoughts, she had been unable to find the wolves that had come so far with Aurian from the southern mountains. Sadly, it seemed that they had perished in the fire.—Instead, the Mage had located and summoned a pair of the Valley’s wolves who were nursing a family of their own. These were the descendants of Aurian’s childhood companions—and wolves have long memories among their own kind. They were happy and honored to foster the Mage’s son, and the grandson of the Lady.—Iscalda was looking much better now. Though she lacked the specialized healing abilities of her daughter, Eilin had cleaned the mare’s lesser wounds made by bough and thorn, and used her powers to ease Iscalda’s aches and pains, and accelerate the knitting of her flesh. Thanks be to the Gods, the injured foreleg had not been broken, though the muscle had been cruelly wrenched and strained. Eilin had done all she could, but despite her best efforts, Iscalda would probably be lame for some time to come. In the end, on Yazour’s advice, the Mage had resorted to Mortal remedies, and the injured limb was now swathed in a hot compress of moss and herbs.
Eilin was glad she had listened to Yazour after all. When he had first suggested to her that he stay, she had given him a short—and negative—reply.—But on reflection, she had changed her mind—and it was proving to be one of the best decisions she had ever made. This capable young man had been Aurian’s friend, and he certainly had his wits about him. Gratefully, Eilin sniffed the savory aroma of the venison that Yazour had spitted over the fire. Not only can he hunt and track, and build a shelter just as well as he can use a sword, but he can cook, too, she thought with a smile. When I see my daughter again—and I must keep on believing that I will see her again—I must compliment her on her choice of companions. The Mage no longer wanted to drive the young man away. The discovery of Wolf had altered everything. Eilin still had her home to rebuild and her Valley to restore to life, but the additional responsibility of her grandson had made her rethink her ideas rapidly. One thing poor Forral had taught her was that there was no disgrace in accepting an honest offer of help—nor in admitting that she couldn’t do everything all alone. She knew from bitter experience that if she tried to overstretch herself. Wolf would be the one to suffer, and the poor child had sufficient burdens already. She had no intention of making the same mistakes with him that she had done with Aurian.
Despite the humiliations she had dealt him, Hellorin could no longer find it in him to be angry with the Mage. When he thought of her all alone in her Vale, her home gone, her daughter gone as was his son, he pitied her.—Nonetheless, she had brought much of her solitude upon herself—and he had a horde of angry and impatient Phaerie to answer to. Eilin must not be permitted to thwart the will of the Forest Lord. He had planned to appear before her and say: “See? Already you are missing the luxuries that only I can provide.” It was just as well he had decided to assess the situation first; otherwise he’d have made a complete fool of himself.