Read Online A Companion to Wolves by Elizabeth Bear - Free Book Online Page B

the wolfthreat, and what Hrolleif did was make sure that no detail of the wolfheall’s daily rhythm escaped Grimolfr’s attention. No matter what task was at hand, he was there, dirtying his hands at butchering pigs and at raising outbuildings, talking to everyone from the blacksmith to the milkmaids in the village—and it was to Hrolleif, and Vigdis, that man and wolf alike came with complaints.
    It was very like what Isolfr’s mother did in his father’s keep, but he put that thought aside, and comforted himself with the warm breadth of Viradechtis’ shoulder and the strength of her neck when she shoved her head against his hip. She was Vigdis’ daughter, and—now that Isolfr was looking for it he could see—Vigdis was a konigenwolf among konigenwolves, queen of queens. Even the top wolves of other wolfheallan deferred to her when their brothers came to meet with Grimolfr and plan the defense of the wolfless men, and that meant, Isolfr realized slowly, that the wolfjarls of those wolfheallan deferred to Grimolfr and Hrolleif. Strength grows from the pack , he understood, and concentrated harder.
    He was a jarl’s son. He had been raised to lead men.
    Surely he could learn to lead wolves as well.
    He fell onto his pallet beside Sokkolfr’s in dull exhaustion every night, and it was half a day’s length before he learned that Brandr Quick-Tongue had bonded the gray-mantled
ivory dog-cub Kothran and become Frithulf—he only found out, in fact, because the new Frithulf Quick-Tongue pitched his pallet next to Isolfr’s, grinning at the startled look on Isolfr’s face.
    Blood and determination did not matter. A fortnight was not enough time; he was not ready to stand in Hrolleif’s boots when the Old Wolf and his sister made ready to go. It was high summer; the woods were full of game. The wolfsprechend need not carry much beyond his axe, a knife, his tinder and dry socks.
    Still, Hrolleif clasped Isolfr about the shoulders before he went, and Vigdis pinned Viradechtis with a halfway playful growl. “Keep care of my pack, cub,” the wolfsprechend said, and squeezed a little harder before he stepped back.
    Isolfr’s fear tightened his throat; he knew better than to wish them luck. “Keep an eye out for tithe-boys,” he said, as if he wasn’t a bare finger’s breadth removed from a tithe-boy himself. “Ulfgeirr says Asny’s packed with pups. He can feel six heads, maybe seven.”
    â€œFall litters are always larger,” Hrolleif said, and clouted Isolfr’s shoulder before he went. Isolfr closed his eyes and turned his head away, so there was no way he could accidentally watch Hrolleif out of sight.
    It was unlucky.
    Â 
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    W ithin hours of Hrolleif’s departure, Isolfr discovered the difference between a wolfsprechend and a boy pretending to be a wolfsprechend. He had no authority with either wolfthreat or werthreat, and wolves and men were more or less polite about letting him know it. He had Grimolfr and Skald to back him up, but he was painfully aware that Hrolleif didn’t need that, that it was Hrolleif who backed up Grimolfr .
    That became more and more apparent as the days crawled past, and Isolfr began to notice certain men in the werthreat eyeing Grimolfr with a hard, speculative look that he did not
like at all. And their brothers began scuffling with Skald more and more often, in encounters that sometimes looked like play and sometimes did not.
    And Isolfr had not the first idea what to do about it.
    He kept remembering, miserably, what Hrolleif had said: Keep care of my pack, cub. He was failing; he knew he was failing, and it was only made worse by the fact that Grimolfr was not looking to him for help. He didn’t want to be indebted to a boy, and Isolfr understood that, but he also understood that by not relying on him, Grimolfr was showing the werthreat that he, Isolfr, was not wolfsprechend