He raised one black eyebrow at her. "With a trail pack ready on your wagon gate? I'd say you were up for amidnight run."

"I said no. Not tonight. Not with you." She broke off, embarra.s.sed. She couldn't believe she'd admitted that. She snarled back at the wolf in her mind.

The Tamrani's gaze sharpened, and his green eyes gleamed. "Are you nervous around me, Wolfwalker?"

"Of course not."

Hunter's voice was dry. "I'm flattered."

Her voice was sharp. "It wasn't a compliment."

He mock-sighed. "You were so nice on the ride today."

"You weren't so irritating then."

He actually laughed.

She nodded at a couple who greeted her, lowered her voice, and said, "Condari, I don't believe for a moment that all you want to do is talk." She took a breath and steeled herself. "You should know that I don't walk out with strange men. I'm also not in the habit of k.u.m-jan, especially between bare acquaintances-"

He grinned at her unintentional pun. She might be a scout, but Randonnens were often stuffy about intimacy between friends.

She forged on. "And I'm tired and sore from the last two days."

"I remind you that I'm not half-bad as a ma.s.seur. Surely you noticed that before, when I rubbed your legs after your run. You weren't so tense with me then."

"Look, Condari-"

"Hunter or Con," he corrected. "And I don't even want my shirt back."

Nori blushed. She'd not yet returned either jerkin or shirt, and she was strangely reluctant to do so. It was almost as if she wanted the man near without actually being by him herself. "I'll return it-and your jerkin-in the morning after I've had a chance to wash them."

"I'd rather you kept them. And," he forestalled her. "Don't bother to ask why." That small smile played around his lips. "I think you know."

She refused to take a step back. "I know enough to ask again, what do you want,Condari ?"

He tried to take her hand as he would if they were in Sidisport. "Noriana Ember maDione, have I offended you?"

She slipped free. "No, but-"

"Am I so badly trained that you were irritated or disgusted to ride with me?"

"You're competent enough on the trail."

"Don't slay me with admiration."

In spite of herself, she found her lips twitching.

"A walk, Noriana. I'm among strangers, here. I just want some conversation."

"You have Fentris."

He snorted. Although, he might have to start confiding in the other man if their interests were as parallel as he was beginning to believe. That woman at fireside, the one whose inheritance was sold? He'd heard of a dozen merchants who had lost properties in the past year the same way or something like it. But he said, "I want a walk, not a fight."

Nori hid a smile. She suspected that Fentris was deliberately provoking Hunter every chance he got.

"You could go back to your own caravan."

"I'd have to be dead from a lack of curiosity if I didn't want to find out why you were so anxious to come back to this train. Half an hour, Wolfwalker. Down the road and back. You'll be in sight of the circle most of the way. You can even bring your wolf."

She regarded him so warily that he wondered if he'd sprouted fangs. Then she gestured abruptly. "We'll walk."

He didn't question her change of mind. Instead, he let her lead him away from fireside, out the gate, and along the path that forked across the wide verge. Payne caught a glimpse of them as they pa.s.sed the far quads, and Nori avoided her brother's gaze as he scowled after the pair.

There were other cozar stretching their legs on that length of road, and Nori seemed to withdraw into herself with every sly expression. Hunter, noting the rising flush on her cheeks, raised his eyebrows and gestured toward a darker side path. She gave him a long look, checked to see if anyone had followed them, then nodded in relief. They slipped away to the wider part of the verge where the others didn't venture.

Willow Roadwas the main way up the valley, with each lane separated and lined by a wide avenue of some of the oldest rootroad trees. In this area, the barrier bushes were almost six hundred meters apart, far enough that the verge was a small park dotted with watering troughs for dnu and stone benches set back in tiny arbors. The paths wound their way up the slight hill like loose white braids in an ancient knot.

Still cooling from the day's warm sun, the air was heady with late scents from the clumps of pink and blue flowers, while pairs of pelan fluttered heavily down to settle for the night.

It was an old park, cleared in the second century. There was a sense of age trapped in the stone benches, like caskets holding the bones of the past. It wasn't just Hunter's imagination. Each bench was carved with the name of a martyr, each name a testament to a man or woman who had died bringing the last of the Ancients' technology out of the plague-ridden domes. Like the cozar pillars that marked events, the benches in the park kept the memories of the martyrs alive. He noted that the wolfwalker seemed unusually pensive as she touched a few of the benches.

Nori named each bench to herself as she pa.s.sed it. The death-seep was days behind her now, but the sense of it was still with her. Even though Rishte had been nervous twice that day, she wondered if she had misinterpreted his impressions. Here, in this park, it seemed fitting that the wolves remember the plague through their memories, just as humanity did in its carvings.

Her tension faded the farther they were from the circle and the knowing eyes of the cozar. By the time they had walked silently through half the park, she knew no one was near. With the faint hunting cry of a badgerbear on the ridge, no cozar would venture this far from the fires.

They paused while Hunter splashed water on his face at one of the stone fountain basins. Nori looked east, into the thick forest.Rishte? she called carefully.

Wolfwalker, you come!Even with the grey little more than a blurred din in the back of her head, she didn't mistake that message.

Soon. Come to me. Come closer.

Wolfwalker, wolfwalker,the Grey One sang.

She smiled wryly. Rishte didn't hear her, not clearly. It was the contact, not the words, that he'd caught.

She tried to stretch toward the grey as Hunter drank from the fountain. It was hard. The Tamrani was too close, too full of strength and presence. In the moonlight, she couldn't help noticing that his hands were rough-textured enough that the water caught brokenly across his tanned knuckles. It was as if reaching for Rishte made her more aware of everyone around her. Every movement seemed exaggerated, sharper, requiring a response.

She closed her eyes. Tried to sink into the grey. She didn't realize her hand stretched toward the forest.

Grey din, blurred fog, swirls of images so faint they made no sense . . . Rishte . . . standing? Rishte moving, and the odors of the forest too thick to distinguish. But there was something in his voice that made her fingers curl.

"Nori?"

She opened her eyes abruptly. Hunter was frowning. Water dripped from his chin, and he dragged a sleeve across his face as he studied her.

"Unease." She didn't realize she had spoken out loud until she heard her own voice. She flushed at Hunter's silent question. A wariness or unease-that was what underlay Rishte's voice. It wasn't just eagerness for Nori to join him, it was the youthful fear of being kays away from the pack. For he was alone now, separated from the pack by distance and days, and separated from Nori by the other humans. The bond would grow stronger the more they had only each other to be with, but she couldn't help reaching out to the loneliness. She should not have heard it so soon in his voice, but the worlag run and her own tension had put a tightness into their thoughts that would have been months in building.

"You're dreamy," Hunter observed quietly. "And p.r.i.c.kly at the same time. It's intriguing."

She was abruptly back to earth. "It is not my intention to intrigue you."

"And disconcertingly sharp as a knife."

She cast him a sidewise look. "I'll not answer that one, or I'd be forced to say where the blade would best be used."

He laughed.

She glanced around, made sure they were alone in the park, then took a deep breath. "I must ask something of you."

"Then ask," he answered easily. She'd used the cozar words stiffly, and he suspected that this favor was why she'd agreed to go with him.

She didn't look at him. Instead, she kept her gaze straight ahead on the ragged hilltop tree line. "Don't mention Rishte to anyone. Don't speak about my bonding. Uncle Wakje won't talk about it, nor will Ki, and Payne knows better. But you . . ." Her voice trailed off in a helpless shrug.

He walked on for a moment in silence. She hadn't used the cozar request phrase. If he didn't know better, he'd think that what she said had been an order, not a request. She was hiding the bond out of what? Insecurity? It was almost as intriguing as her p.r.i.c.kliness. "Should I ask why this is so important?"

"Will you do it?"

He stopped, forcing her to face him. "Yes," he said softly. "Since you ask it." She nodded and made to walk on, but he caught her arm. She tensed, and he released her instantly. "It frightens you," he said, surprised. "I don't scare you, nor this night, nor the sound of that badgerbear out on the hill. But the thought that I might know you are bonding-that has you tense as a wire."

In the night, her violet eyes seemed to gleam. "You guessed before, back at the wayside."

"I suspected," he agreed. "I was sure after the trail toWillow Road ." He shook his head. There was a sense of wonder in his voice. Two nights ago, when she'd led them on that cross-trail, he hadn't known what to expect. The Wolfwalker's Daughter, five moons at night . . . They had been on a dark stretch, with the moons behind the clouds, and the Grey Ones gone ahead, when he got his first intimation of what it would be like to ride with a wolfwalker, not just with a standard scout.

Nori had pulled them up at the edge of the trees, just inside a meadow line. She'd held them there for a moment, then eased them back until they were well under the canopy, all the time not saying a word.

Both men had watched her as much as they'd stared into the darkness. After a few minutes, the meadow seemed to lighten. It hadn't been the moon. It had been the moonthistles that were beginning to open.

When two of the nine moons broke back out from the clouds, the thistles had started to glow. For ten minutes, they watched as the thistles burst out, feathery tendrils waving like gra.s.s in a sea. Then, just as their dnu began to get restless, the wolfwalker motioned. At first, it seemed to be just a breeze in the meadow. Then the thistles started to seethe.

Hunter's hand had tightened on the hilt of his sword before he realized that the wolfwalker was still relaxed. He had to force himself to let go of the hilt, although he didn't take his hand away. A few minutes later, the first bluewing moth had fluttered up from the thistles.

Hunter had sucked in a breath. He'd heard of this, but never seen it. Few scouts did. One had to camp for days-usually with spring worlags, badgerbears, and bihwadi hunting-to catch the bluewings hatching. He had watched intently as the first pale bluewings glistened and fluttered up. A minute later, two more had hatched. Then the entire meadow seemed to be ascending until the glow of spotted blue against the tendrils of yellow-white was a wavering palette of light.

Fentris had made the sign of the moonsblessing, and Hunter hadn't blamed him. With the bluewings curling up to the sky, it was an almost spiritual moment. He'd started to turn to Nori to thank her when she held up her hand to stop him. She pointed with two fingers, never taking her eyes from the meadow.

Hunter had followed the motion.

He stiffened as the first black shadow struck. Within seconds, the night sky was filled with darting, swooping forms. Bluewings glowed brokenly in silent beaks that caught up the moths and cracked them.

Fragments of glowing wings filtered down over the meadow in a ragged, luminescent rain. The thistles writhed, reaching for the torn blue. They fed below, while the tree sprits dove and tore apart the glowing, pale blue sky.

It took only five, six minutes before the meadow was still again. The last of the bluewings that survived escaped into the trees, and the tree sprits darted away in pursuit. The thistles, satiated, tucked in their tendrils and glowed serenely on their stalks, waiting for the dawn.

It took a growl from the dark before Fentris had broken that deadly quiet. His voice had been rough.

"How many will survive?"

Nori stirred. "Enough," she'd answered. "Eight, maybe ten percent. It's been a good spring for moths."

"I hadn't realized."

"Most don't." Her voice had been dry. "You'll see it later, in the lumber you harvest for flatwood."

Fentris had given her a sharp look. He'd wanted to ask how she knew he had interests in the flatwood farms, but she had already begun to lead them out on the trail that cut through the meadow.

Hunter hadn't been able to help himself from tensing as they rode into that faintly glowing field. He felt no small satisfaction that Fentris's knuckles were just as white as the other man gripped his own sword.

Now Hunter studied Nori closely on the moonlit verge. "You knew as we approached the meadow that the bluewings would hatch. You knew it was time for a hatching."

She shrugged. "I picked it up from the wolf pack."

"You mean from one wolf in particular. You had that same look as now."

She looked away.

"Yesterday, when the rest of the pack went east, one of them stayed close to the road. You weren't wary then like you were before, and your eyes were often unfocused."

She found herself poised on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet, as if he'd begun to attack her. "So Fentris knows also?"

"Probably. He's nothing if not sharp."

"And neLivek and the others, back at Clever Springs? Did they notice?"

Her voice was tight, and Hunter studied her before answering. "NeLivek might, but he'd say nothing. As for the others, they were too busy bickering about duties. They might have realized your name, but not that you were bonding."

"You've been around the Grey Ones before," she realized. "You barely flinched when Rishte came to the road."

"I've known a few wolfwalkers. You have that look,Jangharat, " he said deliberately. He half raised his hand to touch her cheek, but let it fall when she shifted back. "And therein lies the problem, Black Wolf,"

he said softly. "You think I'm intrigued because you're the Daughter of Dione. But it wasn't the Daughter of Dione who ran out of the woods with a wolf pack on her heels. It was a woman with a handful of the Grey Ones' pups and the violet eyes of a moonmaid."

Her voice was low. "You speak like you're working toward something."

"Something," he agreed. "I was impressed with you on the cross-trail." He hesitated. "I'm curious, Black Wolf. How much do you know of codes?"

Nori tried not to stiffen. "I know the scout codes, of course, and the standard ring-runner cipher."

"You really have to work on your poker face." She looked uncomfortable, wary, and guilty all at once.

"If I had to guess," he said softly, "I'd say you also know the council codes, the Lloroi's code, and your family whistle codes."

She shrugged irritably. "Lloroi Tyronnen is my uncle. I wouldn't be much use to him if I couldn't send him what he needed to know without-" Her voice broke off. "d.a.m.n you." How the h.e.l.ls had he gotten her to admit that? Did she trust him that much instinctively, or had she so little control now from Rishte?

Hunter nodded. "You've seen the trade codes, too, I'd bet. And probably some of the guild codes.

What about the Houses?"

She didn't answer. She was watching him like a wolf now. If he asked about the raider code, she'd know.