Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

Hot breath filled with stale smells greeted Ancel. He’d avoided being knocked to the ground, but he couldn’t escape the hearty licking he received.

“Charra!” Ancel wheezed. Laughter poured out from him as his daggerpaw’s rough tongue continued to bathe his face. “Stop it, boy.” The licking continued unabated. “Sit,” Ancel commanded. “Let me take a look at you.”

The daggerpaw cooed and sat back on his haunches, his jaws spread in a toothy grin. Ancel stood and brushed himself off. Charra nuzzled into Ancel’s chest, his soft hackles swishing with the move that felt more like a stiff head butt than a playful nudge. Ancel lost his balance momentarily before using Charra for support once more.

“Well, you’re as fine as ever.” Ancel brushed at a red stain on Charra’s lower jaw. “And I see you’ve been in the kinai again. Naughty boy.”

Charra whined.

Ancel chuckled. “It’s fine, boy. Come.” Without waiting Ancel walked up the stairs to the double doors.

Charra’s low, rumbling growl stopped Ancel in his track. The daggerpaw stood stiff as a frozen board where Ancel left him, his eyes riveted on something down the empty street.

Frowning, Ancel followed Charra’s gaze. Memories from the encounter in the Greenleaf Forest rose fresh in his mind. But all he saw were the eight houses, four per side, the gardens, and the empty road. People passed by his street and the one that intersected another lane further on. Nothing appeared out of sorts that would make Charra act as he did. Not that the daggerpaw needed any excuse for his moods, but the creatures in the Greenleaf whatever they were, had only made Charra’s temperament worse.

“Charra.”

Nose quivering, the daggerpaw cocked his head for a brief moment, but his attention remained on Tezian Lane.

A prick nagged at the edge of Ancel’s consciousness like an annoying splinter in his finger. Eldanhill’s noises played a muted buzz in the background. Somewhere on an adjoining street came muffled barks.

Ancel’s brow knitted . Where were the neighbors’ dogs? Normally, they would be in the gardens barking and howling at Charra from behind the safety of their fences. Now, they were nowhere to be seen. Ancel raised his foot to step down the stairs when Charra turned to him with a low coo.

The dog across the street started barking. Moments later, it came dashing through the hedges, jumping at the fence and snarling at Charra. The daggerpaw padded up the steps to the doors as if nothing happened. The chill and tension eased from Ancel’s back as the other neighborhood dogs soon joined in a yelping chorus.

Ancel let out a breath, took one last look down the street, and pulled open the front door. Sweet smells of cooking wafted out to him. His mouth watered, and he found himself licking his lips as he paused for a moment to allow Charra to push past him as usual. Instead, the daggerpaw faced the street, stretched, and lay on the landing.

“Have it your way,” Ancel said with a shake of his head. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“About time.” His father’s resonant voice echoed down the long hallway as Ancel wiped his feet on the mat. “Your mother’s cooked up a quick meal. She was becoming worried you were off playing the fool with your friends again.”

“No, Da.” Ancel shed his short cloak and hung it on the stand with the others. “I hurried home as fast as I could.”

Stefan waited for him down the hall. When Ancel reached his father, the older man gave his school uniform a quick inspection, allowing only his penetrating emerald eyes to move. His father paused at the stains on Ancel’s trousers where some merchant’s plums had found their mark. A ghost of a smile touched his father’s lips before he tilted his head to meet Ancel’s eyes. Ancel swallowed.

“I suppose those two told you about the trip to Randane?”

Unable to hold his father’s knowing gaze any longer, Ancel dipped his head, his face flushing with embarrassment. “Yes, they did.”

“Good. You must be on your best behavior this trip. Headspeaker Valdeen will be presenting the kinai to the King’s tasters this year, so you’ll be taking the horses. Social status and all that. Impressions, my son,” his father added in response to Ancel’s raised brows as he led the way through the study.

Ancel gawked. “Da, then you should-”

“Oh?” Stefan clasped his hands behind his back. “First you lie, and now you’re telling me what I must do?”

The words stung, and Ancel hung his head. He kept his attention on the bookcases lining the walls, then let his gaze rove across the long, polished table, and the soft chairs within the room. The plush carpet below their feet made for an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Ancel spoke up, “No, Da. It’s just that this trip is so important. I don’t want to ruin anything.”

His father’s voice softened. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure. Besides, I’m unable to make the journey this year. I have another meeting to attend.”

Ancel pursed his lips. “What could be more important than the King of Sendeth?”

“As much or more rides on my meeting as this year’s Soltide offerings to King Emory.”

“But, Da, without the King’s agreement the Council won’t be allowed to expand Eldanhill into a city as the Council wishes.”

Stefan placed a hand on Ancel’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Sometimes, son, one must sacrifice for the bigger picture.”

Pondering those words, Ancel was so lost in his thoughts it took a moment before he noticed his father’s sword. “Da.”

“Yes?”

“Is something wrong?”

They crossed into the large living room with its neat, cushioned benches and multicolored rugs. The aroma from the food grew stronger.

His father tilted his head slightly, his dark hair with its white streaks falling to one side. “What makes you ask?”

“Well, that for one,” Ancel replied, dropping his gaze to the sword at his father’s hip.

His father’s hand brushed against the weapon’s hilt. “And?”

“Charra’s been acting strange the last few days even before we saw those creatures in the Greenleaf.”

His father snorted. “There’s no accounting for Charra’s moods. He’s worse than a woman.” Stefan leaned his head toward the kitchen and dining room. “Don’t tell your mother I said that,” he added under his breath.

Ancel smiled. “And your sword?”

“We went to check this glen of yours and backtrack to where you said the beasts chased you. All the signs pointed to the creatures being mountain wolves or daggerpaws accompanied by hunters from the Seifer clan.”

“But Da, mountain wolves don’t have green eyes, neither do daggerpaws.”

“The eyes were the resinbuds playing tricks on you two. From the markings they left on the trees, I’m sure it was the Seifer. Looks like they’re feuding with the Nema again. Probably poisoned that secret kinai crop of yours because they figured it must be the Nema’s. You two boys were actually lucky. If you weren’t on dartans, I may now be in the Kelvore bargaining for your freedom. For now, stay away from those parts until I know this feud is over.”

Ancel nodded, but the way his father fingered his sword as he talked about the wolves wasn’t convincing.

His father continued, “As for my meeting. King Emory is sending a noble here. Some trumped up lordling who’ll meet with a Dosteri embassy to discuss the recent troubles. The King’s advisors suggested we get used to dressing the part of active Dagodin once more.” Stefan shrugged. “I assume they wish to impress the Dosteri with pomp and ceremony. As if that wasn’t enough, a Tribunal member is coming to mediate.”