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Chapter 8

In the predawn darkness distant thunder rolled, and leaves rustled softly to a gentle rising breeze. From the roadside shadows a low voice rumbled "Good morning, good Thomas!"

Tom Atkins jerked and his mare reared neighing at the unexpected sound, nearly throwing off her heavy firewood load. Tom soothed "Ya now gently now, Hopesy babe, 'tis naught but that brace o' eldritch monster wolves greetin' us again. They mean no harm an' they'll be on their way soon enough you mark my words." His horse calmed quickly at the gentle murmur and stood there grumpy, and suspicious, but biddable enough all in all. Tom Adkins raised his lantern high and two gigantic wolves walked into the circle of its light; one white, one black, both with eyes the color of the dawn, or campfire embers, burning. He greeted them good morning and asked "Was my information useful to ye?"

The white one said "Aye now, useful indeed. Do you have aught more you're inclined to share?"

Tom replied "Not right now, Mr. Garth, if it's all the same to ye. I would deeply cherish an ongoing alliance with you but one can't go tripping hard-built traps every lordly day o' the week now, can one?"

"No one can't," the white wolf agreed, "And we're not hungry this morning in any case. We've just stopped by to thank you and to ask about that crooked dell you mentioned yesterday."

"Crooked dell? What crooked dell is that? Dells are not crooked at all, in general. They tend to be more rounded oval in shape, often boggy on the bottom, more suited to woodcutting and grazing than farming--

"Man don't banter with us," the Garth-wolf growled, "Just yesterday you called yourself Tommy of the Crooked Dell and now we've chanced upon two fugitives hoping to make contact with a group by the same name. Surely this news is of interest to you!"

Tom Atkins said "Well, yes, it is. Can you tell me the names of these people?"

"They call themselves Melvin and Clyde. Melvin said he was a personal servant to your baron. I don't know much about the one called Clyde."

"And where are they now? Could you lead me to them when I come back from my delivery?"

"Yes. They're on the far gorge slope, not distant from where we now stand, but they'll no doubt be on the move again at first light."

Tom turned to his mare and unfastened her pack cords, then withdrew a quarter-split firewood log and heaved it casually out and down, into the brushy steep gorge slope below them. He extracted another split log and said "I've changed my mind. We should go there now."

Garth said "You and your horse both? That slope below us is steep and the undergrowth mortal tangled. And there'll be mud and high water if it starts to rain. Might not be wise."

Tom Atkins heaved another log and replied "Perhaps. Perhaps we'll do just fine. Hope and I have been through some pretty rough spots together."

"As you wish!" Garth laughed "If she gets stuck we can always sneak back later and invite her to dinner with us..."

Tom Atkins glared and Garth said "I was joking! I know you'll come back in due course, with help, and haul her out of any sort of trouble she gets into. So get yer fine Hope-horse unloaded and our dear Molly Hand-Biter will lend you her tail for guidance and I'll trot on ahead to scout us out the safest path. If Maid Molly minds her manners we'll be there afore ye've had time t'think twice on the folly o' yer trusting ways!"

Molly growled "Why don't you lend him your tail? I'm still kind of... sensitive... back there, if you catch my drift. I think--"

"I think I'll hold my lantern in my free hand and let you keep that lovely tail or yours to yourself, ma'am," said Tom. "No disrespect intended, I assure you! With the lantern's help I'll see my way well enough to follow you, and dawn's light will be helping me soon in any case. Shall we go?"

They left the road then, and it was not such a hard trek after all. The rain failed to manifest and Garth's careful scouting made all the difference as they picked their way carefully downslope and across the river bottom then slowly and almost silently worked their way upward and eastward along the opposite slope. A breeze-eddy brought Molly the scent of fresh smoke and new-roasting pork when they drew close. Garth was waiting in concealment on the camp's outskirts and when they caught up with him he called out "Good morning Melvin and Clyde! Did you sleep well?"

Panicked imprecations and "You said you'd not be coming back!" came Melvin's shocked voice.

Garth stepped into view and replied "We promised not to creep back and murder you in your sleep. But it's morning now and we're all wide awake... and what do you have to give us today?"

Molly growled "Stop tormenting them, flea bag! Tell them we have a man here who wants to meet them."

"We have a man here who wants to meet you," said Garth.

"You've betrayed us to the baron!" wailed Melvin and Garth replied "He wants to talk to you about a crooked dell."

"Oh." Both men had found their staffs again. Melvin gripped his nervously and muttered "Yes. That's different. We would like that."

Tom and Molly stepped forward and Tom called out from behind her, "Melvin Slatstrom!"

"Aye."

"Are ye seeking sanctuary, now?"

"Aye."

"I may be able to contact the people you seek. Please tell me why I should do that. You'll save us both a deal of time if in your proposal you avoid the use of words such as pity, compassion, and charity."

"Very well. If Clyde and I escape it will weaken the baron's prestige and power, thereby enhancing yours."

"Not enough."

"And I have valuable information to share!"

Tom rolled his eyes and laughed "Well sir now don't we all! Pray tell me then, in all honesty, is this information more valuable than our baron's bounty for the return of a violently depraved inner circle deserter and his equally depraved companion in crime?"

Clyde and Melvin clenched their staffs tighter in desperation... then eyed the watching hellwolves and forced themselves to relax. Molly thought there'd be no fight but wondered which side she'd support if it came to that. Tom Atkin's side, most likely.

Melvin set his staff on the ground and nodded to his companion, who did likewise. He said "I'm begging you, sir, not threatening. I'll tell you what I know and hope for the best."

Tom said "Good answer," and Molly smiled, thinking how strangely this conversation echoed the one she had had with Melvin just hours before. Melvin said "I may think of more things later but right now the important news concerns our baron's finances. As you doubtless already know, he is currently hosting an agent from the Mendici family in negotiations for a surety bond in payment of his tribute to the king. Baron William has contracted their services every year of his reign but this year his negotiations have faltered due to lack of adequate value to pledge. To make up the difference he went out raiding, of course... and we all know how that adventure ended! So he limped home crippled, horseless and humiliated only to suffer at dawn's first light a flagrant supply train raid below the very walls of his citadel, and yet another loss before the sun had set: the theft of a precious sapphire he had gleaned from the Valinonian debacle and had counted on to help seal the deal. The agent will be loathe to leave empty handed and quite likely even now they'll somehow craft a bargain, but the baron's suit has grown shaky, and the agent sore displeased. It's possible another incident right now might drive him away altogether."

"This sapphire..." Tom asked, "tell me more about it please."

Melvin looked to Molly and Molly said "I have it now. It was mine all along, or perhaps Garth's. Baron William stole it from us."

Tom smiled and asked "I'll assume you'll not be parting with it now?"

Molly smiled toothily back at him, savage sharp teeth flashing white behind gently curled black lips. She shrugged black-charred black shoulders and cheerfully wagged an elegant fur-fluffed black tail. She shook her head no.

"As you wish," Tom murmured. He turned to Melvin and inquired "Is that all you have to share?"

Melvin protested "That's valuable information! The king is not happy with Baron William. He can't control him outright but if the tribute is in default he'll likely use it as a pretext to revoke the baron's charter of command, and once that's done it will only be a matter of time before he's overthrown by one of our neighbors. Will we do better under them? Who can say? It's hard to imagine doing any worse. The Mendici agent has a score of mounted bodyguards hosted at the crossroads guardhouse and it's certain an attack on that structure would disturb him powerfully. Perhaps he'll leave us then, perhaps he won't. 'Tis enough to know he might!"

"Eloquently spoken!" mocked Tom, "But what of the deadly retribution we'll all suffer when the baron learns of our deeds? He's in a savage mood and he'll care not who the real rebels are; any man close to hand will do for a hanging and women too, for that matter. I think--"

"We'll do it," said Garth.

Molly whipped her head around to stare and saw him grinning recklessly back at her, tail a-wag. He said "We'll try for something showy but not too risky, and we'll be sure to show ourselves in the act. How can Baron Wolf-Fang punish you for what is clearly an outside attack?"

Why hadn't she thought of that first? Molly nodded and growled "Aye, we'll do it. For food."

Tom Atkins beamed back at them and said "That can be arranged. Do you know the place? It's a large walled garrison and stable compound directly at the crossing of the East-West Ramparts Road and the Valinoin Road by which you doubtless came to us here. Close by it is a shanty town indifferently defended, which I beg you to leave more or less in peace. Your dinner tonight will come from there, if my word carries weight. Listen for the singing of church hymns after you've had your fun with the baron's men. If my voice is among the singers you'll know you've come to the right place."

Molly said "That will be late tonight, I'm sure you'll understand. We wolves prefer darkness for our trouble-making."

"Oh, aye!" Tom Atkins confirmed, "Don't we all?" He eyed the land around him and added "The slope is gentler here, and the brush thinner. With these two stalwart men to help us Hope and I should manage well enough. On behalf of the people of Hightshame I thank you deeply for what you've done, and for what you yet may do. Good fortune be with you tonight!" Clyde and Melvin nodded but said no words, so Garth and Molly nodded wordlessly back, then turned tail and slipped silently into the underbrush, from which they secretly watched the humans as they shared a meal of stick-roasted pork scraps then broke camp and marched off competently enough toward higher ground.

When the humans were gone Garth and Molly moved in and Garth sniffed over the pig carcass remnants saying "Looks like there's still some good meat left here! Before we go we ought to--yipe!" Garth jerked once at her unexpected touch then froze motionless, tail pulling itself slowly but inexorably to one side. He said "Never mind the meat," and Molly said nothing at all; too busy tongue-slathering his y-shaped bitch folds and suffusing her nose with the seductive rich scent of them. So very like a true heat was this silly spell of hers, and so long lasting! Nigh on two days now and not yet fading, and beneath her tongue Garth's twitching female parts seemed genuinely puffy and enlarged, like a true-heat dog or wolf would show. Definitely larger than they had been when she examined them in the hellhound's bathing pool. She said "Garth?" and he replied "Hmmm... don't stop now..."

So she didn't stop. Tossing misgivings to the wind she humped him hard and hot then turned and tied him trembling tight. Some time later, when they were done with that and gnawing pork bones she asked him "Garth?"

"Hmmm-gnarrr-hmmm?"

"Garth have you ever thought about... puppies?"

Garth dropped his his gnaw-bone and made a snorting sound, like a stifled laugh. He said "Yes, Molly. I have."

Molly said "I've been thinking... I've been wondering if what I told you about the lust spell might be wrong. I'm thinking... what if we're really in heat after all?"

Garth said "I've been thinking that too. I strongly suspect we are."

"Why didn't you tell me!"

"At first I believed your lust spell theory. After we mated the first time it was too late to make a difference for you."

"But why didn't you stop me later, when I jumped up on you?"

"I wanted to be fair. Molly I was a man before, and when a man tells a women he understands what her life is like... she never believes him. I've seen the look. We won't have that problem. And besides, it's another thing we can do to cherish my father's memory."

"Shamus told me the world has small use for glowing-eyed hermaphroditic monster wolves. I'll assume by that he meant glowing-eyed hermaphroditic monster puppies as well."

Garth said "In that case we'll cherish his memory by proving him wrong." He rose to his feet and stretched sensuously, then shook himself waggle-flap head to tail. Molly rose up too and Garth said "Come along, comrade! We have innocents to aid and evil to fearlessly confront!" Molly stretched too and when her tail was up he whipped around quickly to tongue-tickle her unveiled vulva and chortle "Later."

Molly yipped yes and panted drunk with pleasure while Garth had his way with her and when later came, well after dark, they were leagues away from there and had gleefully traded places several times.

Still in heat they were but now a hunger of a different sort was making itself felt. Not a strong hunger, much too soon for that, but enough to make Molly drool a bit from the rich sweet scent of horses drifting over to her on the humid near-still evening air. No rain had come that day but another storm was near and thunder rumbled sometimes, disturbing the horses, and in the murky sky above them distant lightning flickered from time to time.

Garth was gleaming whitely in the darkness beside her, plain as day to her own eyes but no doubt near invisible to a human. 'Cept for those inconvenient glowing eyes, of course. Both hellwolves were careful to avoid looking directly toward the well-manned guardhouse compound palisade with its sharp-hewn toothlike jagged crest.

Garth snorted angrily beside her and grumbled "Where's the weakness? We have to hurt them somehow, without hurting ourselves, but that log wall is too tall to leap and all their stable buildings are tucked safely behind it."

Molly said "The walls are of wood. Could we set them afire somehow? Like the bandits did to our Blackbluff guardhouse?"

Garth grumbled "Yes if we had shields for their arrows, and bushels of dry kindling-wood close by, and a hundred men of our own to keep them contained while we were setting it all in place! We don't even have a torch to light--"

Garth's words had stopped mid-sentence and he was staring up at the palisade's spiked crest, careless of his telltale eye-glow. Molly followed his gaze and saw it riveted on a single torch there, one of many set at intervals to light the compound's perimeter. Garth said "I know we can't safely leap the wall; I suspect we're just strong enough to impale ourselves on the sharpened points atop of it. But those torches are mounted on the outside. If one were to leap and miss there'd be no harm done and one could try again..."

"So glory be! We got a lighted torch clamped a-tween our teeth, singin' our sardin' whiskers off. What then? We beg the sardin' sentries to hold back their attack while we set fire to--"

"That!" Garth was staring at a loaded hay wagon now, fairly distant from the walls but easy enough for a four hundred pound wolf to move.

Molly said "Oh. That." Garth beamed toothily and she added "Garth dear, have I mentioned yet how very gratified I am that you are not my enemy?"

Garth said "Yes, you have. But you can say it again if you like. So tell me now, witch: Would you say a white wolf is more frightening, or a black wolf?"

"In general a black wolf, I would say. Your point being?"

"One of us should distract them at the gate while the other attacks the wall. The distraction should be you."

"And just what am I supposed to do? Howl at them? Strut about and look menacing?"

"Molly don't fret about it. I'm sure you'll think of something. Just don't get yourself hurt, alright? And remember! Arrows can fall short of you because you're out of range, or because the bowmen are deliberately shooting badly to lure you close. It's a simple trick but it works!"

"Yes, Garth, I'll be careful if you will. But if you get yourself killed I'm never speaking to you again!"

"I'll keep that in mind." Garth hesitated then, tongue-tied. He regarded Molly tenderly, eye to glowing eye, then at last he turned away and said "I suppose we can start now if there's nothing more you'd like to add. No? Well then run along, my lady, and show them all what a big bad wolf you are. Tonight we fight for honor, for vengeance, and for dinner free of charge!"

Molly ran along and stationed herself before the guard complex gate, just out of bow-shot range. The land was open there but far too dark for her to be seen, so she drew deep breath and began her performance with a basso-low quavering howl, rich with ominous overtones, mounting in pitch slowly, slowly, lungs unfailing, rising unabated to end at last in an ear-piercing demented lupine scream. What an amazing vocal range she possessed now! And such lung power! A true contralto voice, no less, and no one nigh of a mood to appreciate the wonder. She reached within herself for magical energy and found far more of it than she had anticipated. Where had it all come from? Never mind, never mind, take it now and shape it, those pretty little witch-fire flames will do nicely...

Red flickering glamour-fire crawled up Molly's back and took root there, growing stronger by her will, and from the palisade walls before her rose a confusion of shouts and crashes and ringing clangs. She heard arrows striking down on the roadbed before her but none came close.

Molly fed the flames higher, and brighter, coaxing from them oily black smoke tendrils that faded and regrew and interlaced unending with the seething flame. Never had the spell flowed so powerfully for her! And the men-at-arms before her were responding in just the way she had hoped they would respond: All free eyes were upon her now, she could feel them; the power of their fascination subtly strengthening her efforts. From the cloud-darkened sky above her lightning flashed and muted thunder rumbled again, closer now than it had been, and Molly hissed in concern at that, silently willing Garth to get about his business as quickly as could be. Momma Skivens had warned her the witch-fire might draw lightning down to her if worked while a storm brewed near at hand, and here she was flagrantly disregarding those valuable words of advice. Not her first time flouting wise advice, sad to say, and with a lick o'luck would not be her last. Best to get on with the deed and hope for the best.

More torches flared alight on the walls before her and below them the steel-bound wooden entrance gates began to swing wide. From between them emerged a double column of torch-bearing pikemen surrounding and protecting a dozen bowmen, perhaps more. The column was uneven at first and only after repeated sharp orders did it grow tidy, but ragged or not it was far more than Molly could afford to face. She looked apprehensively behind them, toward the compound's far wall. Any smoke yet? Maybe... yes! Right there! A twisting faint wisp of... cook fire smoke. Damn.

The column began to march forward along the roadbed and she pushed her witch-flames toward them, separating them from her body while still trying to hold them in the shape of a blazing spectral wolf. They were strong witch-flames, the strongest and brightest she had ever made, but any soul with a smitch of learning would know them to be naught but sham-fire, entirely harmless to the touch.

When her flame apparition drew within bow range the front pikemen knelt down and a flight of feathered shafts rose up from behind them, gouging great gaping holes in her creation by the harsh magical disruption of their cold-steel heads. Another flight or two would destroy the thing entirely so Molly puffed it up tree-high with the last of her power and... something was not right. The magic felt different now, building in strength when it should have been fading, and bluish glowing wisp-tendrils were rising up from her flame-wolf like steam from a seething cauldron. All the fur on Molly's pelt began to puff out crackling in a winter-spark sort of way and she yipped in frantic panic, pulling back from her sending and cowering eye-shut on the dirt as--

Kakk-Kraacck!

Lightning-flash savaged her tight-shut eyes and thunder crashed above and around her, blasting her ears with an agony of overwhelming sound. She sprawled half-paralyzed for a time, ears ringing like all the church bells o'the world at once, wondering how it was that she was still alive. The biting scent of ozone choked her and... was that burning fur? How close had that damned lightning bolt come? She staggered to her feet and looked around herself, or tried to, but her eyes were still too dazzled to see more than light-points from the soldiers' torches shining through the darkness. None of them were close by, thank the saints.

Her balance steadied and Molly continued to peer toward the torch-lights, determined not to be caught by surprise. Small chance of that, she soon concluded from the erratic movements they made. The men who held those torches were as dazed as she was.

As Molly watched the torches her night-vision slowly began to come back to her. She saw them all pass back through the gates and peered again toward the palisade's back wall in search of flame-sign. She saw no change. Surely Garth could have accomplished something with the magnificent diversion she had made for him! Was he hurt? He should be back by now! What if--

Molly felt a touch on her flank and whipped around snarling, head-bumping something large and trying to bite it but the something dodged away and faintly yelped "Molly! Stop! It's me!"

Molly scented Garth's scent and stopped, panting sheepishly. She said "Garth you're alive!" and Garth shouted faintly in her ear "Of course I'm alive. What's a wee small near-miss arrow or three among friends? I'm not the one who just called lightning down from the heavens and walked away to grumble 'bout it! You never told me you could do that." Before her Garth's white fur was becoming visible enough to discern more or less where he stood. Molly said "I didn't know. Are we in danger here? I can't see very well right now."

"No we're not in danger," Garth replied, "the men have all retreated now, doubtless hoping to receive a new set of orders. Perhaps they think they've been warned off by a mage."

Molly snorted "Don't I wish! How did your hay wagon ploy work out? I didn't see any smoke."

"That's because there wasn't any. I didn't even get close. The guards were true to their posts and those torches lit me up well enough to make me a fine target. Never got past the first scouting, and lucky I wasn't hit then!"

"So you were in danger! You said it would be easy!"

"I was wrong."

"Hmmppf. Well in that case we'd best be going now. Next time we'll choose an easier target. I think I can follow you now if you choose a simple path for me."

"I suppose you're right. Best we start out this way... no. Wait. Something's happening inside the compound."

Molly peered back that way and saw nothing new. She asked "What is it?"

"I see smoke. Too much for a cook fire... and now I can see the flames. I think it's a building burning. In the confusion someone must have dropped a torch or knocked over an oil lamp or something. The flames are getting larger now. Do you see them yet?"

Molly squinted toward the guard compound and at last said "Yes! I see them! It's like--"

Ka-Thrroom!

A towering red fireball burst from where the flames had been and Garth yelped "Damn! Was that a gunpowder explosion?"

Overhead the storm grew closer and a twist of wind brought the stench of sulfur smoke to their noses. Molly said "Yes, I believe it was." Fat raindrops began to fall and then a torrent but the hellwolves ignored all that, both staring fascinated at the stricken guard compound. Smoke still rose from it but no flames were visible now; not from their far-off point of view. Within the walls all was noise and confusion, no doubt, but Molly couldn't quite hear that with her own ears.

Garth shook his head and said "I can't believe they were storing gunpowder there. That stuff's been outlawed for six hundred years! If the Mage Guild hears of it they'll be serving him his own nards for breakfast next."

Molly laughed "Saints fergive ye Garth! Yer accusin' Baron William Wolf-Fang fer a lack o'good judgement? Such a grievous lack o'respect yer shewin' now!"

"Why yes, dear. I am. And to add to the crime I'll be stealing our dinner from him, most likely, before dawn lights up tomorrow's sky. D'ye hear that distant sweet sound o'church hymns, perchance? 'Tis muted now but before the rain started I heard Tommy Atkins' voice rising up from among them."

"No. All I hear are the bells. Sarding scores of sarding church bells all ringing between my ears at once. But don't let my griping hold you back, Garth. Just lead me the way and I'll follow ye well enough."

He led her not far, to an open paddock shed with a dozen frightened peasants singing loud, with fear-tight voices, as if to drive the dark denizens of the night away. Their singing instead brought those denizens closer as Garth and Molly made a full circuit roundabout searching for traps and other dangers then sat quietly listening until the rain ended and the song became Amazing Grace, and Molly's voice from the darkness informed them she once was lost but now was found/was blind but now could see.

The singing stopped. Tom Atkins took up a lantern and walked out alone to join them. He said "Come along with me, if you will. I think you'll be pleased with what I've arranged." He led them through a maze of unlit crooked alley-streets to a sprawling ill-kept building smelling of meat and smoke and spices and brine. By the doorway a man stood guard but at Tom Atkins' arrival he nodded curtly and walked away, shoulders hunched, pretending not to notice Garth and Molly's hulking lupine forms. They stepped inside and Tom told them "The brine pits are straight ahead, where hams are left to cure. Smoke house is to your left and sausage drying racks are to your right. Eat what you like, carry off what you like; all we ask is that you leave clear signs that non-human marauders were here. Tooth marks, broken things, any sort of soiling and spoiling short of outright arson will do nicely, if you catch my drift. If you fail to do that the blame will fall instead on those who work here, and especially on that man we met at the door." He stepped outside then, leaving the door ajar, and added "The street guards have been called away, for now, but there's no telling when they'll be back. Best to be quick about your business and as silent as possible until you're ready to leave. If you hear the tap of stone or stick on these walls you must drop everything and flee at once."

Tom Atkins left them and the hellwolves crept forward, deeper into the building, marveling at the wealth of flesh surrounding them. In darkness laughing they ate, they broke things, they loaded each other high with lashed-down hams, and when the Mendici agent and his entourage stormed off in a fury late next morning Molly O'Dowd watched them full-bellied from the roadside brush cover, her partner-in-crime Garth Mactire standing jubilantly full-bellied by her side.

Chapter 9

Not quite one month later Molly sat at dawn upon a frosty ridge-top not far from there, a delightful snow-scented north wind toying tirelessly with the silver-black guard hairs of her new-grown winter pelt. In one cupped paw-hand lay her master's mage gem, sparkling bravely in the rising sun's pale late-autumn light and humming brim-full with the power she and Garth--mostly Garth--had fed to it slowly day by day. Were it not for the pups she carried within her she could have her human form again right here, right now... she even knew the proper herbs to chew if she wanted those pups to quietly disappear. They were still quite small, after all, showing naught but a subtle bulge to her belly when she stretched out sprawled on her back. Molly shuddered at the thought of harm to them and tucked the gem back in its tiny silk carry-pouch. She would be birthing those pups, if the Fates allowed, and raising them at least to weaning. She was looking forward to it! They were a treasure to her, a precious gift from Garth.

The wind grew stronger and she leaned into it, relishing the wonderful fresh coolness on her face. Her new fur coat was a treasure too: Thick and black and rich and worth a fortune, no doubt, were it tanned and mounted on some lordling's great-room wall.

Beside her Garth stood regally, his equally thick and rich pelt shining translucent white by dawn's thin light and still smelling deliciously of their recent lovemaking. Wolves shouldn't still be doing that out of heat, she supposed, but they both enjoyed it so much they'd not quite got around to dropping the habit.

Garth knew she was watching him but pretended not to notice, looking out across the fuzzy sapling-choked patchwork of Hightshame's abandoned fields and beyond, to the wooded far distance where passenger pigeons seethed smoke-like in the sunshine, rising with the new day to feed on fallen chestnut and elm mast. He looked down upon the secluded cart track that led past them and growled "Not a sign yet of our friend Tommy Atkins. Nor o'breakfast neither, I expect. 'Tis not like him to let us down like this!"

Molly rose to her feet and stood beside him. She peered out in growing concern and murmured "Hope he's not in trouble."

Tommy Atkins had promised to show himself there before first light, but now daylight had arrived and he had not. Both wolves were dependent on him, he had skillfully manipulated them from their very first meeting, but Molly could not fault him for it. He needed them more than they needed him, if truth be told. How else was he to wage war upon his baron without suffering the devastating retaliation of which the man was clearly capable? The hellwolves had done it, he said, and not a man gainsaid him. The hellwolves had done it all; destroying the baron's roads and lightning-blasting his garrison and even now from all the scattered parts of his domain came reports of rapacious monster wolf attacks, always the same white and black pair, and in most cases the baron's own men confirmed the sightings when harried and far too late they arrived upon the scene. The real hellwolves, for their part, had exercised themselves to an admirable speed and toughness running at Tom's bidding to all and sundry parts of the barony in time to show themselves and take the blame for what gleeful and fiendishly clever humans had already done. In their wildest imaginings Garth and Molly could not have done a tenth part of the damage they took credit for under the guidance of Thomas Atkins and his compatriots. Nor could they have survived for long while maintaining such a pace, and with all hands turned in hatred against them.

But they were not fighting their war alone. They had no need to fight alone for in truth, who knows weakness better than those who are a part of it, and what wolf can match the savagery of a human who has tasted the blood of vengeance after a lifetime of cruel abuse?

One time Garth joked they should tarry there until the baron was entirely overthrown, then claim the land for themselves as baron and baroness. Molly said that sounded like a good plan, and she believed she would rather enjoy being a baron. She had been teasing Garth about it ever since.

"Lady Garth!" she said now, ears perking up in sudden excitement, "I think I see him! He's... there's someone with him. And a pony. Maybe it's not Tom after all. He never mentioned he'd be bringing a friend along."

Garth was still standing beside her, peering fiercely now and muttering something about sarding telescopes. After a minute he said "If they have bows they're packed away and not ready for use. And that's not a pony with them. It's a hellhound."

"A hellhound! Are hellhounds even allowed in Metagonia? Gorepaw said he's not permitted to cross the border."

"Civilian hellhounds are granted entry if they travel with a human and call themselves guard dogs. Fraternizing with the locals is not encouraged, however, and this one could not have picked a worse time to be visiting. In the current mood he's like to get shot just for possessing four legs and fur."

"We should warn them." Molly growled.

"Yes we should," Garth agreed, "though doubtless they know what they're about, if they've made it this far. Be wary for tricks!"

Garth and Molly right away leapt forward and began to bound down through the leafless frost-rimed late-autumn brush tangles, making no attempt to conceal their movements. As they grew closer the travelers stopped and the hellhound shrugged off a heavy leather pack saddle to crouch alert, ready for a fight at first then all at once rising up lanky-tall, thin tail furiously a-wag, barking "Molly! Molly O'Dowd! And Garth Mactire!"

Molly caught a scent-whiff from the hellhound and yapped back "John Smallberries!" She caught Tom Atkins' scent too, over-hot from a hard fast walk and agitated, perhaps, but carrying no taint of undue fear.

Garth and Molly forgot their wariness and rushed down to the road for frenzied tail-wagging snuffle-greetings with no concern for betrayal at all. The humans loosened woolen flat caps and threw back heavy woolen collars and stood by silently, nervous by their stance but not overly so considering the three daunting and deadly canine creatures thud-bounce-frolicking boisterous and puppy-like at their feet.

Greetings came at last to an end and Molly asked "John! How in God's creation did you get yourself here? Gorepaw said he'd never let you go."

"Heh!" John snorted, "It is naught but for luck, in truth. Gorepaw's always been a softie for them that pulls their weight and there's matters afoot that needs attending to, discreet like, and I just happened to whimper in the right ears at the right time." He turned to the stranger human standing idle beside them and bowed elegantly, forelegs bent elbow-down to the ground. He said "Nathan, I have the pleasure to present to you Molly Lynn O'Dowd and Garth Linnaeus Mactire, late of the house of Mage Shamus Mactire and even to this day engaged in ongoing retribution for his shocking death. Molly, Garth, let me present my comrade and ward Nathan Vachon, representing His Majesty Eustace Anjou, King of Metagonia, in secret investigation of this troublesome and sore-neglected corner of his realm."

A king's inquisitor! Molly's heart began to hammer and her throat caught in panic but she showed no outward signs, she hoped, as she bowed down in solemn response and Garth bowed down solemnly beside her. She smelled hot fear-scent from him as he murmured "You're a king's officer? Shouldn't you be denouncing us as outlaws? Shouldn't we be at each other's throats right now?"

"I certainly hope not!" Nathan laughed. "I rather doubt I would last long in such a fight. Prithee rise now and we'll talk. True I'm a king's officer but I'm not royal, nor a magistrate, and my orders are to learn and report, not to make judgements or intervene. This mission of mine is all in secret, mind you! So secret I've been directed to seek the counsel of rebels and travel here lightless by night, hellhound-guided, northward from Valinoin rather than southward, from Gerlofstad, in the usual way."

Both hellwolves rose and Garth faced Nathan eye to eye, not shrinking, his expression difficult for Molly to read. He asked the human "What have you learned?"

"I've learned this barony is on the brink of collapse, and Baron William's tribute payment will not be forthcoming this year. I've learned two wolf-like demon-beasts are blamed for it. I've learned the baron here has been supporting himself for years by cross-border raids extremely damaging to my king's long term interests."

Garth smiled a crooked smile and eyed Tom Atkins sidelong. He asked Nathan "And what now? Have you learned enough to make a full report? Will young King Eustace be consolidating his power by replacing the baron here with one more to his liking?"

"Perhaps."

Garth softly purred "Perhaps the demon beasts will go away, if he does that. Perhaps the people here will settle down and cease to annoy."

Nathan answered quietly "Perhaps my king and his close counselors would be better pleased if the matter were to resolve itself without his direct action. A new king provokes his enemies and alienates lackluster allies by too eager a housekeeping fervor, and Baron William is by no means the only vassal with foul deeds to answer for. If King Eustace is too zealous in his purge they'll band together out of fear, and replace him instead."

"So you're saying there'll be no king's army sweeping through here and putting all to rights?"

Nathan made a sour face and said "There is no king's army. No secret about that! If King Eustace lives long enough there will be, but three decades of his uncle Reynaud's lunatic reign have left a legacy only time and luck and good counsel can heal. My report is likely to recommend leaving your baron to reap what he has sown, and then to make treaty with the victor, whoever he may be."

Garth darted his glance to Tommy Atkins, then back to Nathan. He inquired "Even if he's a commoner?"

Tom muttered "What?" and Nathan ignored him replying "Gentle blood is not of great import here. Any commoner who can deliver a vassal's tribute without bandit raids won't be a commoner for long! And have no fear now--"

Tom snorted "Are you talking about me, man? I'm not scheming to be made a sarding baron, dammit!"

"--if he fails in the tribute we won't hold that against him. We would rather have the money but if there's none to be had we'll simply annex the land as a direct royal holding and manage it for ourselves, while likely awarding him a comfy sinecure in gratitude for his services to the crown."

Tom opened his mouth to speak again but John Smallberries cleared his throat for attention and asked "Nathan--how much were you telling me that tribute would likely come to?"

"A pitiful fraction of what it was in past years, sad to say. I believe at present a thousand ounces of gold delivered on or before Christmastide would suffice. More would be required in time of war, of course, and any man aspiring to be the new liege here would do well to offer payment or part payment for monies defaulted by his predecessor."

"Will the court accept goods of equivalent value?"

"Sometimes, if it is convenient and financially advantageous."

"Goods such as cattle?"

"Yes. Cattle are always in demand."

"How many?"

"I can't make promises but at current market value, delivered healthy to the capital, about fifteen hundred head ought do it. Quite certainly that would be enough to buy you a year's grace to correct any deficit!"

"Would the cattle now grazing Long Valley be acceptable? The valley is a hundred times the size of Heightshame but talk is cheap, and Baron William claims it all for his own. Pray tell me, if you can, what might the crown think of that?"

Nathan was silent a long moment then asked "How would you catch them? Long Valley is contested territory; Fjordland and Westmarch claim it too, and the Armistice of 1285 depopulated the land to put an end to the endless wars over it. No man may bide or work there until all is sorted out, and who knows when that will be?"

"And what if the herders are not men? What if they're hellhounds?"

Nathan smiled a sneaky smile and replied "I am quite certain hellhounds are not mentioned in the Armistice treaty of 1285. Nor are hellhounds recognized by Metagonian law as other than simple animals. Animals follow no laws, and dwell where they will. Whilst waiting for clarification it's likely the Metagonian court would take the proffered cattle and leave the hellhounds entirely unmolested. If our neighbors moved to harass them we would not intercede, however. We would only act if they attempted to settle their own people there in violation of the truce."

"And if hellhounds proffered cattle-tribute to those other lands as well?"

"That is their business," Nathan replied.

John Smallberries parted his jaws to say more but Tom spoke first saying "This talk is most interesting but our business is to stay alive and quit burnin' daylight! My comrades Garth and Molly have eaten half the baron's scent-hounds but there are still a few left brave enough to do their jobs, and I fear my movements in recent weeks have brought unwanted attention my way. Behind this ridge and a league north is a vacant cottage with still a halfway decent thatching on it. If it pleases you, Mr. Vachon, you an' yer great guileful guide-dog will set up residence there a few days while my friends and I arrange things for your better comfort and safety." He turned and half-bowed to Molly and Garth saying "Don't think I've forgotten you two! Up past Hawk's Crag is a deep road culvert clearly blocked by intent, I've just been told. Water from the blocked stream has spilled over the road and gouged away a great section of it, leaving Hawk's Valley cut off from commerce just when their apple harvest was due to be collected. Were it not for those dratted hellwolves one might think the people living there did the deed for themselves... but we all know that's a crime and criminals are not treated kindly here."

"Say no more, sir!" laughed Garth, surprising John-the-king's-ranger-hellhound with a stealthy shoulder-bump and nearly knocking him off his feet while Molly slipped behind to nibble-nip his off-balance-flailing tail, "We're already on our way. Shall we meet back at that cottage you're recommending for Nathan and John?"

"Yes," agreed Tom, "that would be good. Perhaps you'll even be so kind as to secure some provisions for them while you're about it. I'm told their own supplies are near-spent."

"Got it," growled Garth and they were on their way; sprinting full-speed at first to show off for John, then settling down to a league-eating long-range-lope not quite so fast as a galloping horse.

Hawk's valley was at the farthest southwestern corner of Baron William's domain; a gentle south-facing slope above Long Valley where winter's bitter cold seemed never quite so fierce. It was the only place where grapes and apples could be reliably grown, and the recent loss by fire of its sawmill and cooperage would mean no wine, quite soon, for the rank and file of the baron's men. Garth and Molly had been blamed for that fire and treated by the locals to a simple but delicious feast in their honor. Perhaps today they would be offered another one.

Even with their admirable speed it was near noon when the hellwolves arrived at their destination, and the sky had shifted from clear cold blue to a bright milky white overcast. No Baron's men were in evidence so they wandered idly about the crime scene, making sure to leave clear deep paw-prints in the washout-mud. All that took very little time, though, and the whole while their empty bellies complained bitterly of their sad state. Still no sign of guardsmen and they might well fail to arrive at all. That had been happening more and more in recent days. Seemed like time to call the job done and claim their pay.

Molly murmured "Ready?" and Garth nodded, breathing deep then parting his jaws to release a sonorous haunting howl across the wooded slopes and down them, toward the lovely fertile valley below. Molly joined her voice to his and they sang a playful duet together, without words, and they were hardly started when from below came the sound of a bell tolling. Both hellwolves ceased their howling and Molly purred "They're waiting for us. Good friends, good meat, good God, let's eat!" Garth laughed and raced her down toward the bell-sound without saying anything witty at all, and they burst panting among the locals just a few minutes later.

Folk of all ages were gathered in the village commons, festive-voiced in some uncouth Frisian dialect no one else in two worlds would understand, and to one side was tethered a horse. She was a mare, all black like Molly, and her fur smelled of fresh bathing when Molly approached. A man took up her tether and held the mare still while Molly crept forward, slipping her toothy jaws around the throat and resting them there a gentle instant before delivering the bite of mercy--

--a harmless stinging nip.

The mare reared up in shock and Molly threw herself giggling backwards, rolling snout over snatch to crumple just-a-bit-gravid-bellied on the ground and mock-wail "Drat! She got away! Am I ever gonna get this right?"

The tether-man had let loose his grip and the mare ran off angrily snorting and kicking until another villager lured her close with some tidbit and soothed her down again. Other villagers crowded around to pet Molly's fur and brush it off, and offer her a bowl of fragrant steaming chestnut porridge in lieu of steaming bloody horseflesh. The porridge was too hot to eat at first but Molly stood over it blowing and touch-licking while small hands continued to pet her fur and someone found a bit of summer sausage to lay beside the porridge bowl. Molly chewed the sausage morsel slowly, savoring the luscious flavor and wishing for more. Not nearly enough meat in that bite to properly nourish a hard-working pregnant monster wolfess! Not likely to be more forthcoming, though. Not here. Not today.

Molly shrugged philosophically and breathed out another cooling-breath on her porridge bowl. It mattered little, really, if the Hawk's Valley folk were meat-deprived. Their diet was healthy enough for their own needs, and the herder folk gave Molly flesh enough for hers. Whipcord-tough muscles beneath her fur and a subtle but steady-swelling girth gave assurance she was not in any sense wasting away.

When her porridge was cool enough Molly began to savor-lap that too, relishing the taste as much as she had relished the sausage. The people here thought chestnuts a poor man's food and offered them shamefaced when nothing better was to be had, but chestnuts were rare in Puddleford, and therefore more highly thought of. Molly loved them roasted and in all their other forms, and her new lupine belly seemed to handle them well enough.

Molly finished her porridge and another bowl was brought, and hot mulled cider, and then fried chestnut-potato cakes and sauerkraut with juniper berries and a sort of grape-juice-sweetened apple pie with chestnut-flour crust. Sweetened with the clear mild juice that comes from fresh-pressed non-fermented grapes, that is. Sugar was not a thing poor people could afford in Baron William's domain. The pie was delicious and Molly asked for the recipe, wondering how well her new paw-hands would do at such a task--if she ever again had a kitchen of her own to work in, that is. The hand-paws were far larger and stronger than her human hands had been but those claws might get in the way and they lacked a bit in delicacy, and dough would surely get stuck to the fur... and keeping them clean was difficult in any case since they were needed for walking too. She had not yet entered a room with ceiling high enough for her to stand on two legs without bumping her head. Perhaps she could have some leather walking-gauntlets made to keep the front paws clean between-times, then slip the gauntlets off once she had reared up upon her haunches to work...

As she was lost in leather-working thoughts Garth nosed her ear and whispered "Molly you've such a way about you! Just our second visit with these people and already they're dumpling dough in your paws. I wish I had half your charisma."

Molly twisted round to look at him and laughed "Says the gorgeous white wolf with two small children perched on his back!"

Garth bucked a tiny buck to get the children laughing then sat down slowly on his haunches, spilling both of them gently to the ground. He said "It's time to go now, ready or not. The days are short this time of year and we have a lot of distance yet to run." He sniffed the air and muttered "And snow soon, like as not. That may slow us down a bit." To the crowd at large he announced "Thank you all for your wonderful hospitality today! It has been a pleasure visiting but now it is time for us to go. We've had our fill but is it possible for us to take some extra food away with us? A sort of doggy bag, if you will. For a friend."

Pannier baskets were rigged and leftovers loaded into them, and the two hellwolves left Hawk's valley generously laden with cheap but tasty food. The trip back was slower to avoid disturbing their loads, anything faster than a quick-trot tended to make them shift, and a starless overcast darkness overtook them long before they found their way to the cottage Tom had described for them.

Hearth-smoke tickled their noses as they approached but "Something's wrong," Garth growled at the scent of it.

Molly sniffed and muttered "It's too old. Too cold. The fire's smoldering but it should be roaring hot right now." Both hellwolves shrugged off their panniers and began to spiral inward toward the cottage at highest alert, anxiously seeking for clues.

Found them.

Blood-scent came to them first, human blood, and then... hellhound blood. John Smallberries' blood. They tracked the blood-scent twitching in fear of traps but there were no traps, only an arrow-pierced unmoving form huddled deep beneath a willow thicket.

"I think he's dead," growled Garth when he got there.