"Jane Lindskold - Firekeeper Saga 1 - Through Wolf's Eyes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lindskold Jane)

“Hardly,” the guide retorted scornfully. “We’re too big a group and wolves, savage as they are, are not
stupid.”

“Well,” Ox replied, laughing at his own joke, “you’d better tell the mules that. I don’t think they
understand.”
Sir Jared Surcliffe, a lesser member of Earl Kestrel’s own family, but prouder of his recently acquired
nickname “Doc” than of any trace of noble blood, crossed to claim the general provisions bundle. Like
the earl he had black hair and clear, grey eyes, but his height and build lacked the earl’s seeming
delicacy. There was strength in his long-fingered hands—as Derian had learned when Jared stitched a cut
in his forearm a couple of weeks back. Derian recalled that Doc had won honors in battle, so he must
have other strengths as well.

“Valet has the fire started,” Jared said, an upper-class accent giving his simple statement unwonted
authority. “I’ll start dinner. Race, shouldn’t you see if there might be a fish or two in yonder brook? Earl
Kestrel would enjoy fresh trout with his dinner.”

Had anyone but Jared or the earl himself even hinted at giving the guide orders, he might have found
himself standing a late-night watch on an anthill. Race Forester, though, for all his pride in his skills, knew
when he could—and could not—push his social betters.

“Right,” he grunted, and departed, whistling for Queenie, his bird dog. The red-spotted hound reluctantly
abandoned the station near the fire from which she’d been watching Earl Kestrel’s man unpack the
delicacies kept for the earl’s own consumption.

When the wolf howled again, Derian wondered how much of Queenie’s reluctance was due to leaving
the food and how much to the proximity of the big predator.

“They say that the wolves in the mountains are bigger than anything found in settled lands,” Derian said,
talking to distract himself and feeling freer to speculate now that Race was gone.

“They do,” Doc agreed, “but I’ve always wondered, just who has seen these giant wolves? Few people
have gone beyond the foothills of the Iron Mountains—those mostly miners and trappers. As far as I
know, the only ones to have crossed the range are Prince Barden and those who went with him.”

Derian finished currying Roanne and moved to the earl’s Coal before answering.

“Maybe in the early days,” he hazarded, “when the colonies were new. Maybe people saw the wolves
then.”

“Possibly,” Jared said agreeably, shaping a journey cake on its board. “And possibly it’s all
grandmother’s fire stories. Race is right. Wolves and other night creatures do sound bigger when you’re
camping.”

Conversation lagged as the members of the expedition hurried to complete their chores before the last of
the late-spring light faded. Part of the reason Earl Kestrel had planned his journey for this time of year
was that the days would be growing longer, but after hours spent riding on muddy trails, the evenings
seemed brief enough.

Cool, too, Derian thought, blowing on his fingers as he measured grain for the mules and horses. Winter
may be gone, but she’s not letting us forget her just yet.