The wolf looked at him. Edain swallowed suddenly. The yellow eyes were like endless wells into times deep beyond deep, ancient with years where the birth and death of trees was like the flicker of autumn leaves in the wind. Suddenly he knew where he was.
This wasn't just a forest. It was the Forest, where the forever trees grew. The wood of the times before, that stood when man first made fire or cracked flint. It tow ered still in the world beyond the world where the shadows of things that had been lingered, casting their own reflections spiraling back into the waking world.
Father Wolf cocked his head to one side. "Bit slow on the uptake, lad, but you're gettin' there," he said in that infinitely familiar Hampshire-and-army drawl. "Now, if you're done, I'm busy."
"Busy?" Edain heard his voice squeak hatefully, something he'd thought he'd shed two years ago. "You're busy?"
The great wolf's nose wrinkled again and he raised his head, as if scenting far-off winds. "Lots of new packs getting started."
A deeper sniff, after a pink tongue the size of a small bath towel swept over the nose.
"Even back in your dad's little island, now that you lot aren't scarfing everyone else's share of dinner. All to the good, that, but. .."
Father Wolf sighed; that sound seemed to come from his actual chest. "… but they need looking after. Would you believe it, some of them have been fucking dogs? That's not right nor natural. It's going to be hard graft getting things fixed up proper again without floppy-eared bastards running about holding their tails wrong."
The amber eyes glared at him. "Now you're mine, don't let me hear anything like that about you, boyo."
"No, sir," Edain heard himself say. "Not that way inclined, anyhow."
"Good. Now, like I said, I'm busy, so you can bugger off back. Give my regards to Sam. He doesn't know it, but I've been keeping an eye on him; tell him to remem ber that night on Mount Tumbledown and the Argie with the shovel."
"But aren't you going to… to…"
The yellow eyes met his again. "Look into your eyes while you bury your hands in my ruff and I impart some bloody immortal wisdom that will transform your soul?"
A snort. "My arse. Doesn't work like that, lad. Be thankful you didn't get Coyote. That sneaky little shite would keep you here talking until your fur fell out and you'd be none the wiser for it."
Edain stood, speechless. The wolf sighed again.
"All right. I'll tell you the rules, now that you're Wolf. Hunt clean. Look out for your pack, your mates; stick by your pack leader and back 'im up. Don't go looking for a fight, but fight like a mad bastard for your kin if you have to, and seven times over for the pups and the nursing mothers."
"I already knew all that! That's it?"
"I couldn't tell you unless you knew. What more do you want-'keep your pelt clean and cover your scat'? Or I could piss on your ankles to mark you if you want."
The wolf scratched again, stretched, yawned cavern-ously, then turned to go.
"You'll do, boy. You'll do," he said over his shoulder, and trotted away.
"Wow," Rebecca said, looking at him wide-eyed. "That's… that's some dream!"
"Yes," Edain said moodily, prodding at the fire with a stick. "I get to meet the Father of Wolves, and he's like my dad on a bad day. Bollocks."
She suppressed a chuckle and turned to Rudi. "And you're a Raven, you say? Was it a dream for you?"
Silence fell; she seemed to sense it after a moment, looking from Rudi to Edain and then to Mathilda's slight trace of well-concealed fear.
"No," Rudi said softly, looking inward at his memories. "Raven.. . Raven came for me when I was still young. And not in a dream; He came to me by the light of common day."
They all looked up when Ingolf walked back into the circle of firelight; a tension broke that Rudi hadn't no ticed until it was gone. The older man looked grimly satisfied, and Bob Brown was with him.
"Bingo," he said, crouching down to put himself on the same level as the others. "Thought I'd find something like this."
The big easterner had a shete in one hand and a medallion on a leather thong in the other.
"CUT," he said, holding out the blade.
It showed a rayed sun etched into the blade near the hilt. Then he offered the medallion on the palm of one callused hand.
"And CUT."
Mathilda straightened up with a sigh and leaned forward to look; Rudi did likewise. The medallion was marked with the same symbol, in silver and gold on a turquoise background. Rudi took it and tilted it towards the firelight; the workmanship was excellent, with the slivers of semiprecious stone skillfully joined with hair-fine seams, and the surface of the metals rippled and polished.
"The CUT hand these medals out to ranchers and bossmen who give the Prophet earth and water," Ingolf said grimly.
Bob Brown grunted."Wondered how them Rovers got such nice blades. They don't have a smith to bless them selves with-who'd work for 'em out here in Lower-ass end Township of Crotch-scratch County if he could get a bunk at a decent ranch, or in a town like Bend? They don't have enough to buy much gear honestly, either. My father will want to know about this."
Bishop Nystrup came up. "Do you mind if I join you, gentlemen.. . and ladies?" he said.
"Sure, and you're always welcome at our fire," Rudi said gently.
The older man was looking ill, as well he might with half the party he'd led west dead or hurt. One of the lat ter was apparently his son, as well; Rudi had the impression his daughter wouldn't be helping out with his work in normal times. The bishop took the medallion in turn and sighed.
"Even here?" he murmured.
"Yeah, even here, Bishop," Ingolf said.
Rudi leaned forward and made his voice firm yet friendly as his mother had taught him, pouring strength into it: "And even here, you'll find that you have more friends than you thought. This Prophet has a gift for the making of enemies. He's made foes of my folk, and we'd barely heard of him before his murderers came on our land, the creature."
"Ours too," Mathilda said decisively.
Odard nodded agreement. "Those, ah"-he stopped and glanced at Father Ignatius-"bad, wicked, depraved people are going to pay for my new poleyns, one way or another."
"And the Dunedain have a quarrel with him as well," the twins said, in chorus.
For once that unanimity seemed unintentional, and they looked at each other with exasperated expressions-identical ones. Then Ritva went on:
"Fighting the current Dark Lord is standard op erating procedure, for us. Dyel! They're like cock roaches-squash one and another one scuttles out of the baseboards."
The Mormon bishop tried to smile. "I thank you, my friends. But nine young people, however valiant and skilled…"
Rudi grinned, a charming expression. "Bishop Nys trup, I think you'll find we're more than a clutch of young wanderers."
His brows went up.
Father Ignatius cleared his throat. "Yes, they are," he said. "Or rather they're a very wellborn and influential group of young wanderers."
Odard preened, slightly but unmistakably. Mathilda shot him a warning glance, then another at Rudi with a question in it, and nodded soberly.
"I'm… heir to an influential position in the Portland Protective Association," she said carefully.
"And I am a knight-brother of the Order of the Sword of Saint Benedict. You may have heard of us," Father Ignatius added.
Rudi drew a deep breath. Sometimes you had to take a risk. "My name is Rudi… Artos… Mackenzie," he said. "And this is-"