Misha frowned at Laura over his desk at Long House. Her group had arrived
back at Metamor nearly a week overdue, and now she brought him this news on top
of it. "You took them to Redoubt, in spite of very specific orders not to do
so," he said, encapsulating in one sentence what she had just told him.
The woman didn't flinch, sitting at attention across from him and replying
in her most formal debriefing voice. "I didn't believe that Lord Marcus would
have survived a direct return to Metamor, sir. Between the concussion, the
broken ribs, and the developing pneumonia, he desperately needed medical care
of a higher level than we'd have been able to provide in the field. For that
matter, I wasn't sure that Master Snow would have made it, either... He was
absolutely exhausted and I wasn't sure if Lord Marcus' illness was catching.
They were both unconscious when they arrived, and I had them kept in one of the
small rooms near the entrance to maintain the illusion that they were in an
emergency supply cache and shelter."
Misha couldn't quite manage to restrain a wry twitch of his mouth at her
choice of phrase. "Which they were..."
"Which they were," she agreed, acknowledging the humor. "I also made sure
that, once they'd recovered, they were led out blindfolded and that our tracks
and scent trail were erased before they were allowed to take their blindfolds
off. I sincerely doubt that they gained any clue of Redoubt's true size and
scope."
"Good. That fortress is Metamor's ultimate fallback position, and it
absolutely, categorically, must remain secret."
"I already swore them to secrecy, sir, though they think it's for the pack's
sake."
"It is," Misha replied. "Two birds, one stone. They get a place to rebuild
their numbers, away from hunters and away from Nasoj's forces pressing them
into war, and we get an extra layer of protection and misdirection for Redoubt.
I'll make sure to press home that oath of secrecy on Snow and Marcus myself."
"The dire wolves know about Redoubt."
"What?"
"Cloud Walker-" She paused and corrected herself. "Excuse me. /Long/
Walker refused to leave their sides until he was certain they were all right,
and he figured it out pretty quickly. Arla said he could smell it on a draft
of high mountain wind that had coursed down from the lookout tower."
Misha put his thumb and forefingers to his temple and forehead, trying to
ward off the headache forming there. "Wonderful. And what did Crooked Jaw
think of that when he heard?" He knew without question that the pack leader
/would/ hear of it. It was their way.
"He understood the reasoning, and promised to keep it secret and hidden."
The fox's remaining ear pricked in momentary surprise. "Well... that -is- a
bit of good news. After all the news so far, I'd almost expected that they'd
want to move in, or at least be annoyed at not being told."
"Arla said his exact reply was 'You protect your pack with a second den. We
understand this. Not so different, you and us.'"
"Huh," Misha said, leaning back in his chair for the first time.
"Philosophy from a dire wolf. Who would have thought it? What else did he
have to say?"
For the first time in the debriefing, Laura met his eyes directly, and her
gaze was troubled. "He said 'keep close watch on your Snow Storm.' He said he
smelled trouble brewing. I've noticed it, too. There's something... unsettled
about him. Several times during our trip he woke himself with nightmares."
"After an encounter with a cave bear and a berserker episode? That wouldn't
surprise me at-"
Laura shook her head. "Not just after, Misha. The night before, too,
though he tried to pass it off as rolling onto a sharp rock in his sleep.
Xavier, I have no worries about now that he's under a professional healer's
care, but Drift? He worries me."
Misha leaned forward again and propped his fist against his chin. "He
worries me, too. I know the family he's from, and they did not bend well under
stress."
"'Bend well', sir?" Laura asked, puzzled by the strange turn of phrase.
"'A willow survives storms that an oak does not'," Misha quoted, his eyes
ranging back through memory to some of the storms in his own life. "Drift
tends to put his head down and power his way through troubles. It's an
attitude that has taken him far, but it can leave him brittle when the stress
becomes too much." He paused for a few moments to bring himself back into the
present. "Send him in when you leave, please. I'll have a talk with him, and
ask him to spend some time with Father Hough as well." He knew that last one
was a longshot, but Madog /had/ said that Drift had made his peace with the
priest...
"Yes, sir," Laura said, straightening to attention once more at the hint of
a dismissal. "Will there be anything else?"
"One thing: do not mention the nightmares to anyone, nor what the dire
wolves said about Drift. It's personal, and we'll keep it personal. That goes
for Arla and anyone else who overheard, too."
"Yes, sir."
"All right. You are dismissed."
-----
Somewhere far away, Agemnos leaned back from his scrying pool and smiled.
Here was the lever for which he'd been looking. Resting a favoring hand on the
head of the one who had brought him this news, he said, "Well done, dear
Thestilus. Your ambition serves you well. I know just the person to
capitalize on this."
"And Alexastra?" the imp asked.
The Lord of Avarice stroked his silver-bearded chin for a moment, silently
pondering. "Tell her nothing," he said finally, his voice carefully pitched to
convey a tone of concern and pity. "She has been a useful tool to me: let her
have her moment in the sun. Tell Linafex that I have deemed his cause worthy
of my personal attention and that he is to wait patiently for my /direct/
assent and instruction before making his move, on pain of forfeiture of
contract and exposure to the Lothanasa herself."
"Yes, my lord. It will be as you say."
Agemnos smiled. "Of course it will."
Fin.
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