Nighteyes stirred, disturbed by some inkling of my thoughts.
Have you ever considered what it would do to me if you died? Nighteyes asked me.
I shut my eyes tightly for an instant. But I had considered it. What would it do to us if I lived as prey?
Nighteyes understood. We are hunters. Neither of us was born to be prey.
I cannot be a hunter if I am always waiting to be prey. And so I must hunt him before he can hunt me.
He accepted my plans too calmly. I tried to make him understand all I intended to do. I did not wish him simply to follow me blindly.
I’m going to kill Regal. And his coterie. I’m going to kill all of them, for all they did to me, and all they took from me.
Regal? There is meat we cannot eat. I do not understand the hunting of men.
I took my image of Regal and combined it with his images of the animal trader who had caged him when he was a cub and beat him with a brass-bound club.
Nighteyes considered that. Once I got away from him, I was smart enough to stay away from him. To hunt that one is as wise as to go hunting a porcupine.
I cannot leave this alone, Nighteyes.
I understand. I am the same about porcupines.
And so he perceived my vendetta with Regal as equivalent to his weakness for porcupines. I found myself accepting my stated goals with less equanimity. Having stated them, I could not imagine turning aside for anything else. My words from the night before came back to rebuke me. What had happened to all my fine speeches to Burrich, about living a life for myself? Well, I hedged, and perhaps I would, if I survived tying up these loose ends. It was not that I could not live my own life. It was that I could not stomach the idea of Regal going about thinking he had defeated me, yes, and stolen the throne from Verity. Revenge, plain and simple, I told myself. If I was ever going to put the fear and shame behind me, I had to do this.
You can come in now, I offered.
Why would I want to?
I did not have to turn and see that Nighteyes had already come down to the hut. He came to sit beside me, then peered into the hut.
Phew! You fill your den with such stinks, no wonder your nose works so poorly.
He crept into the hut cautiously and began a prowling tour of the interior. I sat on the doorstep, watching him. It had been a time since I had looked at him as anything other than an extension of myself. He was full grown now, and at the peak of his strength. Another might say he was a grey wolf. To me, he was every colour a wolf could be, dark-eyed, dark-muzzled, buff at the base of his ears and throat, his coat peppered with stiff, black guard-hairs, especially on his shoulders and the flat of his rump. His feet were huge, and spread even wider when he ran over crusted snow. He had a tail that was more expressive than many a woman’s face, and teeth and jaws that could easily crack a deer’s leg bones. He moved with that economy of strength that perfectly healthy animals have. Just watching him salved my heart. When his curiosity was mostly satisfied, he came to sit beside me. After a few moments, he stretched out in the sun and closed his eyes. Keep watch?
‘I’ll watch over you,’ I assured him. His ears twitched at my spoken words. Then he sank into a sun-soaked sleep.
I rose quietly and went inside the hut. It took a remarkably short time for me to take stock of my possessions. Two blankets and a cloak. I had a change of clothes, warm woolly things ill-suited to summer travel. A brush. A knife and whetstone. Flint firestone. A sling. Several small cured hides from game we had taken. Sinew thread. A hand-axe. A small kettle and several spoons. The last were the recent work of Burrich’s whittling. There was a little sack of meal, and one of flour. The leftover honey. A bottle of elderberry wine.
Not much to begin this venture with. I was facing a long overland journey to Tradeford. I had to survive that before I could plan how to get past Regal’s guards and Skill coterie and kill him. I considered carefully. It was not yet the height of summer. There was time to gather herbs and dry them, time to smoke fish and meat for travelling rations. I needn’t go hungry. For now, I had clothing and the other basics. But eventually I’d need some coin. I had told Chade and Burrich that I could make my own way, on my skills with animals and scribing skills. Perhaps those abilities could get me as far as Tradeford.
It might have been easier if I could have remained FitzChivalry. I knew boatmen who plied the river trade, and I could have worked my passage to Tradeford. But that FitzChivalry had died. He couldn’t very well go looking for work at the docks. I could not even visit the docks, for fear of being recognized. I lifted my hand to my face, recalling what Burrich’s looking glass had shown me. A streak of white in my hair to remind me where Regal’s soldiers had laid my scalp open. I fingered the new configuration of my nose. There was also a fine seam down my right cheek under my eye, where Regal’s fist had split my face. No one would remember a Fitz that bore these scars. I would let my beard grow. And if I shaved my hair back from my brow as the scribes did, that might be enough change to put off the casual glance. But I would not deliberately venture among those who had known me.
I’d be afoot. I’d never made an extended journey on foot.
Why can’t we just stay right here? A sleepy inquiry from Nighteyes. Fish in the creek, game in the woods behind the hut. What more do we need? Why must we go?
I must. I must do this to be a man again.
You truly believe you wish to be a man again? I sensed his disbelief but also his acceptance that I would try. He stretched lazily without getting up, spreading wide the toes of his forepaws. Where are we going?
Tradeford. Where Regal is. A far journey up the river.
Are there wolves there?
Not in the city itself, I am sure. But there are wolves in Farrow. There are wolves in Buck still, too. Just not around here.
Save we two, he pointed out. And added, I should like to find wolves where we go.
Then he sprawled over and went back to sleep. That was part of what it meant to be a wolf, I reflected. He would worry no more until we left. Then he would simply follow me and trust his survival to our abilities.
But I had become too much a man again to do as he did. I began to gather provisions the very next day. Despite Nighteyes’ protest, I hunted for more than we needed to eat each day. And when we were successful, I did not let him gorge, but jerked some of the meat, and smoked some of it. I had enough leather skill from Burrich’s perpetual harness mending to make myself soft boots for the summer. I greased my old boots well and set them aside for winter use.
During the days, while Nighteyes dozed in the sun, I gathered my herbs. Some were the common medicinal herbs I wished to have on hand: willowbark for fever, raspberry root for cough, plantain for infection, nettle for congestion, and the like. Others were not so wholesome. I made a small cedar box and filled it. I gathered and stored the poisons as Chade had