"Vidon, did you see that?" the young woman guard said excitedly, wheeling her dnu around.

"They're not bihwadi," the first youth returned eagerly. "They're wolves." He yanked his dnu carelessly back to the center of the road and twisted to peer back at the Grey Ones.

Nori glanced at the two city guards, and almost slid from the dnu as she did so. She was straddling the edge of the saddle's f.l.a.n.g.e, just in front of the dnu's belly segment. She scooted closer to the older man, but it didn't help. Her balance was off, precarious, as if she were unsuited for riding. She grabbed the guard's belt to steady herself and cursed at her undisciplined mind. Again, it wasn't her; it was Rishte.

Four legs, not two. Low balance, not tall. Ruthlessly, she clamped down on the fragile bond. There was instant relief for her body. She ignored the frustrated howl that rang through her mind. Now her muscles knew what to do, and she slid easily into the riding beast's rhythm.

The first youth wrenched his dnu around so that he could see the creatures behind them. "It's an escort,"

he guessed, forgetting to keep his voice low. At a hard glance from Nori's rider, the youth reined back into position, but he was unfazed by the discipline. "I'm Vidon neBerum," he introduced excitedly.

"Subrank student to Gankira and Lee, Tamrani Ser, of the Third House, Liegtha. She's Gariala maStura, subrank student to Gankira and Lee, Flint-dau and Gla.s.s-dau. You're riding behind neLivek."

With her mind caught in the wolves, the t.i.tles washed over her without meaning. She recognized only the sense of the words, that the woman was high guild, and the young man Tamrani, and that both were out of Sidisport. They were anathema to Ariye, then. She nodded a tense acknowledgment and searched her memory for the more familiar name, neLivek. He was perhaps eighty or ninety, thick with aged muscle, but not yet showing the thin white hair of someone well over a hundred. She'd felt the twisted scar on the palm of his hand when he'd taken her wrist. Along with that, he wore a southern-style harness with a double rack-quiver.

"NeLivek of the Two Seeds?" she asked over the man's shoulder. Her voice was hoa.r.s.e and dry from running and too much snarling at Rishte.

"Aye." He was surprised, and he spat the seeds he'd been sucking to the side of the road. "Though it's been a while since anyone called me that. I go by Tysil neLivek in the trade lanes." He'd gotten the other rep-name forty years ago as an outrider with a Diton caravan. It was a wry reminder that the cozar remembered a man's reputation long after he himself had misplaced it.

NeLivek glanced over his shoulder, then lost the beginnings of his grin. Up close, the blood streaks were clear. He made a subtle signal at the man who was cantering back from the front, but kept his voice casual as he untied his bota bag and pa.s.sed it to Nori. "This is Hunter," he introduced. He ignored Vidon's look when he didn't bother with the formalities. "He's in charge of this spit-poor excuse for an escort. We're outriding the cozar family of Rocknight Styne. They broke a wheel and fell behind the train."

She nodded as she uncapped the bota bag. That explained the number of outriders. An Ell wouldn't usually hold up an entire caravan for one disabled wagon, but he would dispatch as many guards as he could to escort a fallback till it rejoined the safety of the line.

The taller man, Hunter, judged the way her legs kept twitching as if she were still racing the black road.

She was jumpy as a Grey One. He half expected her to startle back into the dark at the sound of his voice. "Warm night for running," he commented.

Nori jerked another nod. Her breathing was still hard, and she did not trust her voice.

Hunter scowled as he realized just why Vidon was staring so blatantly. That sling barely covered her.

"Vidon, Gariala, ride forward," he ordered curtly. With an arch look from Gariala, the two reluctantly obeyed, leaving the rear guard to neLivek. The tall man stripped off his overvest. "We'll stop in ten or fifteen minutes at the Clever Springs wayside." He held out the garment. "This should do for now, unless you need a shirt before you wash."

Nori glanced down and wanted to roll her eyes. As casual as scouts had to be with each other, one still had to make allowances for teens. "I'll wait," she said shortly. She shrugged the proffered vest on over the sling.

Hunter nodded his approval. As with most experienced ring-runners, she didn't put prudishness ahead of safety. Besides, the treated leather wiped off like chancloth, although-and Hunter hid a grin at the thought-his mother would swoon if she knew how her expensive gift had been baptized. Considering the state of this ring-runner's skin, had the woman asked for a shirt, it would have been stained beyond saving. "Raiders or worlags?" he asked.

"Aye," Nori answered obliquely.

"Both?" He was startled in spite of himself.

She nodded and drew the vest in more closely. It was body-warm and well softened, and it smelled of man and dnu. It wasn't standardchovas gear, not with that fancy edging and tooling as fine as any she'd seen. Her family was well off, but even they didn't wear things like this on the trail. This vest would cost two months of scouting wages. Rich, then, she thought, but riding guard for a fallback wagon? She slanted Hunter a look.

He knew what she saw: a man maybe five, six years older than herself, with the typical broad shoulders and muscular build of a southern Ariyen. His hair was so dark it was nearly black, and long enough in the Ariyen style that he braided it back and tied it with a leather thong for travel. It wasn't an affectation, as it would have been on Fentris the Fop. He just hated the bother of getting it cut.

In the sunlight, there would be hints of red and gold in his hair, and his eyes would be a sharp, clear green. In the moonlight, his face looked angled and planed, cold, perhaps even harsh. His mother had told him more than once that he could have been as handsome as his brothers, except that his chin was too square, his eyebrows too thick, and his nose too arrogant to appeal to any woman. When he'd escorted his sisters to events, he made them look as delicate as three-thread lace. His face hardened at the thought of his sister, and he fingered his layered belt again. Jianan had almost paid with her life for the notes that Hunter now carried.

Nori's eyes flicked to the fingers that tapped the thick belt, and Hunter's hand stopped abruptly. His green eyes narrowed at Nori. Only four hours ago, Fentris Shae had caught up to him and handed over Jianan's notes. Now this woman came out of the night with a tale of outrunning worlags? Fentris knew the city like the back of his hand, but knew nothing about the forest. The fop would never have noticed if he'd been followed. That left Hunter here, late in the night, with seven untried city youths at his side, two years of reports on his person, a possible murderer at his back, and all of them kays from the caravan.

Nori caught the sudden sharpness in his gaze and went still.

From behind, Rishte bristled.Danger. He watches. Bare your fangs.

Hunter started to speak, then stopped himself. She was poised not for the kill, but to flee. She had reacted as if he was a threat to her, not she a danger to him. He said softly, "We mean no harm to you."

Nori tried to smile, but her lips curled ferally instead. Rishte's instincts were too close.

Someone called back from the front, and Hunter didn't look away from her as he ordered sharply, "Hold position. We'll stop at the wayside."

Nori forced herself to sit back. He had an unconscious authority that rea.s.sured her more than his words ever could. Her father had the same manner, as did her uncles. Great, she thought. He was one of the perfect ones, like Payne. Tall, skilled, confident, strong-his arm muscles were corded like twistwood.

He probably couldn't even spellfear. Even his clothes were perfect: full-cut for easy movement, dull colors, and varied patterns to deceive the eye in the forest. His riding boots were tesselskin. Tough, light, breathable, and with just enough give that they never seemed to bind. Expensive as oldEarth fox, and not usually worn on rough trails. He was either too ignorant to realize just how badly they could be gouged up, or too wealthy to care what they would cost to replace.

Hunter watched the emotions flicker across her face, and the way she shifted to protect the sling. "It's usually riders, not trail-runners, who carry bulk," he prodded casually.

The grey growled in the back of her mind. Protect. Defend.

Nori tried not to snarl back.I will not let him harm them, she answered. But she adjusted the borrowed vest carefully so she could slip the papers out of the sling and into the vest pocket before showing him what she carried.

Hunter leaned to look and sucked in a breath. "Wolf cubs," he breathed. He'd never seen any before.

He resisted the urge to reach out and run his finger along one of the blind b.a.l.l.s of fur. Somehow, he knew the Grey Ones who slunk behind would not have allowed that contact. No wonder she was so defensive.

"How old?"

"Four days. Birthed over near Stone Ridge." Her breath was still shaky, but she grinned suddenly. "And s.n.a.t.c.hed from the jaws of a worlag pack with all the luck of the moons."

With the smile, her face was transformed. From a smudged, shadowed visage, she suddenly seemed to glow. Hunter felt his jaw drop. He closed it with a snap. Up on the wagon box was Rocknight Styne's niece, a shapely girl who would become a sultry woman. This lean creature would never be called something as simple as beautiful. Her chin was too strong to be piquant. Her eyes were dark and slightly slanted, as if she were more wolf than human. The scratch that marred her left cheek made him want to lean in and lick that thin line of blood, taste the salt and heat of her. His loins tightened. It wasn't her features that arrested his gaze. It was the way her eyes danced when she smiled. There was an intensity about her that made the other girls in his group seem pale and fatigued. A moonmaid, he thought with an odd bit of whimsy. His thoughts crystallized abruptly. Dark eyes, black hair, strong chin, and high cheekbones. Moonlight and night, and wolves on her heels?

She was the image of the Wolfwalker Dione, if one imagined Dione without scars, and if Dione were thirty years younger. Competent as a ten-year scout, though, if she'd run up on neLivek without the man even knowing until she was right beside him. Experienced, yes, and brave-or stupid-enough to run trail alone under worlag moons with a wolf pack at her heels. He could think of no wolfwalker other than Dione who could come close to this girl's description. Then again, when wolves Called, men Answered.

Dione had had a daughter.

He kept his voice casual. "Wolf cubs, s.n.a.t.c.hed from a pack of worlags? They must have been right on the den."

She didn't notice his expression. "We got the cubs out of the den site, but the worlags didn't give up.

They cut us off before we could reach the Chimneys."

He nodded in turn. The Chimneys weren't really channels in the stone, but rather an ancient facade of fractured basalt that led to a mesalike ridge. There was speculation that the caves that once riddled the ridge might have been home to Aiueven before worlags-and humans-came to the world. Now its shallow, collapsed depressions were a safe haven for anyone who could scramble high enough to be out of the beetle-beasts' reach. "How in the name of the First House did you stay ahead of them?"

Her voice tightened. "I didn't. I tried blackthorn thickets, Ironjaw Creek." She had to talk now, had to get some of the adrenaline out of her system. "Nothing worked. They had my blood-scent. They wouldn't give up the chase. So we led them to some raiders camped out at Bell Rocks."

"How did you know they were rai-"

She cut in flatly, "I found the bodies before I got there. The kill-trail led to the camp."

NeLivek frowned over his shoulder. "Moonworms, girl. Let me get this straight. You outran a worlag pack for thirty kays-"

Nori stared at him, then burst out laughing. Thirty kays? Now, that would add to the legend. Sure, she could do that distance at a jog, on good trails, in the daylight without a pack, and if she felt like a marathon. But at night, with panic in her blood and tripping on every root? He must think she was her mother. "Not hardly," she corrected. "I was already at Stone Ridge. I took the shortcut over Small Hill.

And I rested at the creek, and again in a hunters' meadow." She lost her smile abruptly. A meadow that had held human bodies. Bodies of men who had died for what she now hid inside Hunter's vest.

Thechovas snorted. "Alright, so you sprinted ten or twelve kays to Bell Rocks, then deliberately led the worlags through a raider camp? Didn't they try to stop you?"

Nori looked away. "I didn't hail them. I just jumped the perimeter, called a warning inside their camp, and ran on through. It was enough to wake them for the worlags. They started in on each other. I . . . I kept running."

Hunter nodded at the long weals on her shoulders and neck, the line of blood on her cheek. Another track of red dribbled down from under the edge of her hair, and her arm was scabbed with blood. He wondered if she knew. "Something got close enough to mark you."

"Just a brush whipping. Thorns and branches."

"One of those looks deep."

She met his gaze but didn't answer for a moment. In the moonlight, her dark eyes were flecked with something not quite human. "One of the worlags got close before I went up the rocks." Her hand clenched involuntarily. Her bow had snapped like a straw, the wood as flawed as a politician. Without her arrows to hold them back, the worlags had leapt at her like starving dogs on dinner. The images rose in her mind like screams. Purple-black claw-fingers had slashed up. She'd parried with a knife, thrust down with the shards of the bow. The knife had broken. The tip of a claw had caught in her sleeve, raked the length of the back of her arm- She sucked a breath, held it, slowly let it out.

Hunter watched her control her fear and nodded to himself. Dione's daughter would have learned early on to swallow such emotions. Moons knew there were three ways to deal with being born to a legend: embrace the myth, rebel like a raider, or sink into weakness and shadow. That this woman was here, now, proved that she had chosen the first path. He wondered if she had accepted a Journey a.s.signment yet. With parents like hers, she would be snapped up like salvation once the elders tagged her for duty.

She stiffened suddenly and looked over her shoulder. He whipped his dnu around. He didn't even question her sense of danger. "What is it?" he snapped out.

She shook her head. "Rider." She relaxed and faced forward again, but her hand gripped neLivek's belt near the outrider's knife. "Ring-runner, most likely."

Interesting, he thought. She was more instinctive, more quick to react than he'd heard. She had almost drawn the outrider's weapon as her own. She'd also, he realized, heard the rider at least ten full seconds before Hunter himself caught the hoofbeats. Ears like that were wasted on a trail. He made the guest offer casually: "You are welcome to ride with us as long as you have need."

But she surprised him. "I'll rest with you, if you're willing. But I'll go on tonight."

In front of her, neLivek scowled. "All the way to Ayerton? That's a full day's ride."

"Not to Ayerton. Back toWillow Road ."

The guard twisted farther to scan her scratched face, as the ring-runner pounded past, his city crest gleaming in the night. "What's so important that you can't rest now and travel on with us in the morning?"

Nori shook her head in answer to neLivek. She couldn't tell them she had stolen raider code and didn't dare stay with their wagon. Raiders could be thorough-her aunts and uncles had taught her that. They weren't above killing an entire group to make sure that the one they did want died.

But that wasn't her real fear. What chilled her guts was her brother. Payne knew she would not have left the caravan without him for more than half an hour. If he called the search before she returned, he would end up heading straight for the death-seep. Knowing him, once he neared the cliffs, he'd bypa.s.s her trail and head right for the rocks where she would have tried to climb out. Normally, that was a safe bet, but this time it could mean his death.

She couldn't even warn him to stay away from the cliff. The wordplague caused a terror equal to seeing Aiueven. To give that signal by foxhorn, where everyone else could hear it? She'd start a countywide panic about something so deep in worlag hunting grounds that no one would likely go near it for half a year, long after her mother could check it out and, if necessary, post a quarantine.

And how could Nori explain why that signal should sound? She should not have recognized the sense of it; the wolves knew it simply as burning death. To them, it could have been anything from spring fever to pogus flu. She could never admit that she'd actually had plague or been cured by her mother, not when the cure had been through a healing technique that was forbidden to everyone. Her entire family would be hunted down like witches.

On the other hand, Nori knew where her trail had taken her. She knew how to shortcut back to it once she got toWillow Road . If her brother was too far into the hills to hear the foxhorns from the road, she could blow the recall signal herself from one of the ridges, and bring him back before he was exposed.

"At least wait till daybreak," neLivek tried again. "We can give you an escort then and make sure you get back safely."

"No," she said flatly. "But my thanks for the offer."

But Hunter had seen the flicker of fear when neLivek demanded she stay. He glanced back at the wolves, then out at the black forest. There was something out here she feared more than the beetle-beasts they'd run from. He felt a chill. He'd heard that the Wolfwalker's Daughter refused to Test, but never that she was a coward.

NeLivek scowled again. "It's already pastmidnight . You can't makeWillow Road by dawn. It's almost fifty kays by road."

"It's barely twenty-five by the cross-trail," she countered.

"On an unlit trail," the older man returned sharply. "You'll ride faster in the light than at night, no matter how many moons are shining. Moons, girl, if it's a matter of sending word to your caravan, we can send a couple of guild-ser to ride the black road. Once they reach the main circle, they'll send a night runner on to the Tendan Ridge tower. They'll pa.s.s the word to your Ell that you're safe tonight with us."

"If you're willing, I thank you for it." But it wouldn't be in time for Payne. She'd left the cozar around Four Forks. That was fifteen kays fromChileiwa Circle . By the time neLivek's ring-runner reached the circle up ahead, transferred her note to a tower rider, and that man reached the tower . . .

She bit her lip. This part of Ariye was wrinkled with ridges and gullies like a dried-up apple. Bound on one side by the canyons of the River Phye, and on the other by the edge ofFennForest , it had only two tower communication lines. One tower line ran the length of the river ridges. The other ran up the Wyrenia valley foothills to the icy northern mountains. The land between valley and river was rough. She should know; she had just sprinted through it. It would take hours to get a message to Payne by the normal ring-runner route. It would take the duty rider two or three hours just to climb to the nearest tower. Then the message would have to be mirror-flashed along that ridge line till it could cross over to the other tower line. Then it had to be transferred to paper or carving stick. And then carried by another rider down toWillow Road , and south toChileiwa Circle . At least another two hours to do that, she figured, possibly even three hours. It would be well into morning by then.

And someone would have to ride back to Four Forks where Payne would have started the search, and into the forest after him if he didn't respond to the recall from the road. Payne could move fast when he wanted to. He wouldn't wait for full light, and he'd know she would have left sign for him out of habit on the trail. What she'd casually hiked, he'd be riding at a trot or canter. By the time a rider got within hearing distance, he could be all the way to the plague-seep.

On the other hand, if she took the cross-trails back, she should be able to beat any ring-runner toWillow Road by at least an hour, maybe two. That meant the recall signal would be sounded only two or three hours after dawn. If Payne didn't respond to that signal, she could take her shortcut toward the cliffs and sound her own recall. If the moons were with her, he'd hear that before he went over Stone Ridge. She had to reach him. If she didn't, she could be burning his body in days.

"Twenty-five kays, in the dark." Hunter motioned with his chin at her b.l.o.o.d.y arms. "Under worlag moons."

She ignored the chill that fingered her spine. By all nine moons, she knew there were worlags. She'd just outrun a hunting pack. She'd thrown four men to their claws. Screams echoed in her head, and she swore she could suddenly smell blood. It had to be hers but with her imagination heightened by night, it was the blood of the men she had killed. She started to shiver violently.

"Here now," neLivek said firmly. "You're safe with us." He reached back and rubbed her thigh firmly. It was a strong, nons.e.xual touch, as impersonal as a healer's, and Hunter watched her stiffen, then steady under the strength of neLivek's hands. He said, "You insist you cannot stay?"

She nodded mutely. With the slitted pain still throbbing in her head, she was unable to articulate her growing urgency.

NeLivek snorted quietly. "Crazy ring-runners."

Hunter made a soft sound, and Nori gave him a sharp look. The grunt had not been an affirmation of neLivek's statement. She braced herself for his argument, but none came. Instead, the tall man asked casually, "Have you needs,bande'inna ?"

It was the cozar way of asking, terse and to the point. She hid her frown. She had not given any cozar signals, but she'd been raised with them; her speech was peppered with phrases she didn't even notice, and she had not offered them her name or t.i.tle. If he realized she was cozar-raised, he might have guessed more about her than she wanted known. The offer of aid was almost deliberate, like a test. But courtesy required her to answer in kind, so she said simply, "Water, clean cloth for the wounds, access to your healer's supplies. I'll need chamomile, cottonwood, and curc.u.ma root in a tincture. Shirt, jerkin, socks, and something clean for a new sling. Belt knife-I'd prefer two. Matches, bota, war cap. A forty-pound bow and two dozen heavy hunting bolts if you can spare them. A map and a dnu, returned to you in Shockton."

By the way she answered without qualification, Hunter knew she would return or replace everything, not just the dnu and gear. He rode back to the lead thoughtfully. If neLivek thought this girl was just a ring-runner, Hunter was a spotted worlag. He doubted the girl knew that, when neLivek was arguing for her to stay, her lips had curled back like a wolf's. Black hair, lone running, and a pack of Grey Ones on her heels? She spoke like a cozar but dressed like a scout. And her skin was torn like a badgerbear's prey, but she didn't seem to notice. Any normal ring-runner would be screaming for gelbug wash by now, but she was content to wait till they halted at the wayside. He knew of only one other scout who was so blase about being scratched up, and that was the Wolfwalker and Healer Dione. The arrogance was right, too. The girl had asked for temporary safety and the gear to continue her run, but she had accepted their help as if it was her due. He glanced at the wolf shadows that loped far behind their dnu.

The songsters said it was only a matter of time before she bonded with the wolves. Hunter would bet his weight in gold that that time had finally come.

He resisted the urge to look back at her. He had wanted an Ariyen scout on contract, but he'd jump at the chance to have a wolfwalker instead. It was said they were more perceptive than others, that they had eyes into men's minds, even that they could hear through walls. He could use someone like that if what he suspected was starting to erupt. It had been sixty years since the last House War in Sidisport.

With spies in every guild, eyes in every House, and now knives on every road, every House leader was watching his friends too carefully, not just his traditional rivals. Somewhere in the center of the city, the webs for a war were being spun. The movements his sister had been tracking, before she had been stabbed, had implied exactly that: that alliances had formed between enemies, and that power was gathering in unseen hands. The odd thing was that most of the hints were coming from outside the city, from county scouts and traders. They were seeing the shifts first, as if power was gathering outside the city instead of building up inside. It was why he wanted an Ariyen scout to help him investigate.

He fingered the belt where Jianan's notes were hidden. If the power shifts were spreading north, a war could engulf the trade lanes like fire in brittle gra.s.s. Ariyens had no love of Tamrani or any others from Sidisport, but even Ariyens would give up a Journey scout when their own interests were at stake.

He glanced back at the grey beasts who shadowed the woman and cubs. "Black Wolf," he breathed.

"Jangharat." He'd bet the sixth moon on it.

XII.

Quarry mine, blessed am I In the luck of the chase.

Comes the deer to my singing.

-old Earth Navajo hunting song The wayside was typical, grown out of what had once been a small grazing field. It was too small to boast fountains and bathhouses, but large enough that it had a freshwater spring, corral, tack shack, and wagon posts, all of it encircled by the ubiquitous barrier bushes. Three cozar families were already bedded down in the small s.p.a.ces. A lone guard stood by the fire, armed with a bow as they turned into the circle.