Free The Dragon of Despair by Jane Lindskold

bad.”
    “How? Sounds all good to me.”
    “It does, in theory,” Derian admitted. “But what if the Norwoods want to reward one of their good retainers—like Wendee or Valet—or give land to one of their children. Remember, Earl Kestrel has four children. Only Edlin will inherit so Earl Kestrel has to find places for the others. That takes more land. Soon they don’t have any more and need to buy more land.”
    “And,” Firekeeper said, speaking so slowly that Derian knew she was reasoning it out, “that eats the land Queen Zorana left. Soon there is no more.”
    “You’ve got it,” Derian said, more relieved than he could express. He’d thought he’d need to explain this far more carefully. Then he remembered something.
    “Wolves are territorial,” he said, “aren’t they?”
    “Very,” Firekeeper said, and though she didn’t turn to face him, he saw the edge of a scowl on her shadowed face. “And what these humans who want land don’t seem to think is that this land they go to is claimed. It is claimed by my people—by the wolves and by the other Royal Beasts.”
    Derian swallowed hard. Even knowing Firekeeper, knowing Blind Seer and Elation, he hadn’t ever thought about the western lands in that way. To him it was empty land, open for claiming. Now he saw that to Firekeeper, at least, that was far from the case.
    “You say the wolves and the other Royal Beasts,” he repeated. “They share?”
    Firekeeper shrugged expressively.
    “As beasts share. A wolf pack hunts larger game than do a raccoon. A raven eats the spoils of the wolf. A great cat, it may or may not share—so with the bear. Each lives in with the others or starves or dies. I not think humans is like this.”
    Derian bit into his lip. He thought of mousetraps and hound packs, fences and borders, and, of course, feuds and wars. Human culture seemed to have grown up around ways to keep from sharing with anyone other than those most important to you personally.
    “No, I don’t think so,” he said.
    They sat in uncomfortable silence for a time, then Derian asked:
    “Firekeeper, do you think the beasts will harm these human colonists?”
    Firekeeper shrugged.
    “I don’t know,” she said.
    Derian had the uncomfortable feeling that what she really meant was. “I won’t say.”
    In that moment, he knew what side the wolf-woman would be on if a conflict came and the night which had seemed so safe and so friendly grew darker, and he shared with the mules and horses a restless unease.

IV

    FIREKEEPER WAS THE FIRST TO SEE the small community that had been constructed over the ruins of Prince Barden’s failed effort. Moments like this brought home to her more forcefully than anything else how much she had changed in a year.
    A year ago she wouldn’t have known what a horse was—much less how to differentiate it from a pony or a mule. She would have figured out that the oddly shaped things set about the cleared area were shelters, but she wouldn’t have known how to see the difference between a tent and a cabin under construction, nor would she have recognized the purpose of the wall rising around the perimeter of the cleared area.
    “Here,” she said to Blind Seer. “They build their dens here!”
    She was surprised at outrage rising within her. This place meant no more to her than any other section of the forest—or so she had thought. The wolf’s reply was laconic.
    “Not a bad idea, really,” Blind Seer said. “The first to come here when you were small cut down the bigger trees. Even the many years that have turned since fire destroyed Barden’s colony haven’t been enough for those great trees to grow back. Earl Kestrel’s venture last year cut down many of the saplings for corral and tent poles. They even cleared some of the rubble and vines. And this place was well chosen in the first place.”
    Firekeeper grunted irritably, but she understood what he meant, especially now that she had lived among humans and