Gail Martin - Dark Haven

"Good evening, Jonmarc."

"I hope it will be." He turned. "So, was it ready?"

A faint smile played at the corners of Gabriel's thin lips. "Would you like to see it?"

No one would mistake Gabriel for anything but an aristocrat, Jonmarc thought. His bearing, his fine features, everything about him bespoke privilege and breeding. And yet, since before the battle for Margolan's throne, Gabriel had sought him out, sometimes as protector, sometimes as unlikely partner. Since Jonmarc had come to Dark Haven, Gabriel had been content to function as the manor's seneschal, although Jonmarc knew Gabriel owned lands of greater worth. He was also one of the Blood Council.

Jonmarc knew that he could not have accomplished so much nor navigated the politics of becoming the manor's lord without Gabriel's help, and he had grown comfortable with Gabriel's companionship. If they were not quite friends, they were very compatible business partners, and Jonmarc was grateful for a guide in a strange and forbidding land.

"Let's see how good this goldsmith of yours really is."

Gabriel held out a velvet pouch. Jonmarc emptied it into hispalm, and caught his breath. The bracelet in his hand was feather-light. Wrought of silver and gold, the betrothal token incorporated two intricate designs. Five vertical lines with a "V", reminiscent, of the marks of a wolf's claws, was Jonmarc's old river mark, the symbol by which he was known as a fighter and a smuggler. The other, a' full moon rising from a valley, was the crest of the Lord of Dark Haven. Incorporated into a bracelet- called a shevir in the borderlands of Jonmarc's birth-the symbols warned any who could read them that the wearer was under the protection of a known fighter, a lord, and perhaps the vayash moru themselves.

"It's beautiful." He turned it so that it gleamed in the firelight. "You were right. A few hundred years of practice pays off. Now comes the hard part."

"And that is?"

"Getting Carina to accept it."

Gabriel chuckled. "Did I see our courier return from Isencroft last evening? Has Carina agreed to winter with us?"

Jonmarc replaced the shevir in its pouch and placed it on the mantle. He turned away and walked toward the windows, which were frosted from the chill outside. "Donelan's adjusted her duties. She's planning to be here for the winter." He smiled. "I wouldn't doubt that Kiara's had a hand in it-she and Berry considered it a personal challenge to get the two of us together."

"Those are all good signs."

Jonmarc shrugged. "Carina'll have had three months to remember what it's like living in the Isencroft palace. Healer to the king, cousin to the next queen of Margolan, and a reputation that will open any door in the Winter Kingdoms. Why should she give up any of that?"

"Because she loves you."

"Maybe she's had time to come to her senses. I mean, even with Dark Haven, I'm not exactly a step up."

"I don't think Carina cares much about such things."

"We'll see."

Gabriel inclined his head. "Ready to ride?"

Jonmarc nodded. "Let's hope the Council's in a good mood."

GABRIEL'S MANOR WAS only a candlemark's ride from Dark Haven. A blade carriage arrived for Gabriel and Jonmarc at Dark Haven's entrance, and the two rode in silence for a while. The carriage was not opulent, but jonmarc knew from its solid build that it was one of the finest of its sort. Four sleek black horses drew the carriage, fitted in handworked leather tack trimmed with silver. The carriage and horses alone were worth a small fortune.

"Neirin says that we're meeting the Council on your land because I'm safer there-something about 'sanctuary.'"

Gabriel did not turn. He watched the forest slip by from the carriage window. Taking in the view or scanning for threat? Jonmarc wondered.

"Wolvenskorn is a very old manor," Gabriel replied. Jonmarc followed his gaze and saw large, dark shapes keeping pace with the carriage, running silently in the shadows of the deep forest along the road. He repressed a shudder. The wolves of the northern forests were known for size and ferocity, and he had met more than one on smuggling runs. Things other than vayash moru hunted the deep forests. Even the, bravest mortals did not venture deep into the woods at night.

"The name is ancient. It means 'place of the wolf god' in the language of the old tribes. There's a stone circle that rings the great house. Those stones were carved almost a thousand years ago. They show the Dark Lady taking the Wolf God as her consort."

"The Flow under Dark Haven didn't keep the last couple of lords alive. Arontala still managed to make a mess of things. So why should a couple of stones make me feel safe?" "Old magic works in unusual ways. Neither my brood nor the wolves will allow harm to come to you."

Torchlit under the blue light of a full moon, Wolvenskorn's tall, sharply sloping peaks stood out against the sky, topped by narrow gables. Three levels of wooden and stone wings, one behind the next, rose from the snow. Each level had a deeply slanted roofline. The building was capped by a tall cupola

ringed by carved monsters. The oldest wing was daub and wattle, with a sod roof that sloped back into the forest soil.

Grotesques and gargoyles looked down from the roof onto the front courtyard. Between them, intricately carved runes were both decoration and protection. The wooden sections of Wolvenskorn were set with carved panels and the lower halves were covered with overlapping shingles. Wolvenskorn looked nothing like Dark Haven, and Jonmarc was certain that it was much older.

To his chagrin, wolves circled their carriage as they drew up to the front steps of Wolvenskorn. Large, dark, and powerfully muscled, they were the size of a person crouching on all fours. One gray-flecked she-wolf circled Jonmarc slowly. He stopped, hoping he showed neither fear nor aggression. The wolf eyed him with uncanny intelligence, and Jonmarc realized that the wolf's eyes were deep violet. For a moment, he thought he saw a trace of humor. The wolves suddenly turned and padded off, melting into the shadows.

Other fine carriages were parked along the grand circle of the entrance drive. Inside Wolvenskorn, Jonmarc could see the flicker of candlelight and the shadows of partygoers. "I believe we're the last to arrive," Gabriel said, indicating with a nod that they should approach the steep stone stairs that led toward Wolvenskorn's arched entrance.

Inside Wolvenskorn, a huge open room greeted guests. Three massive fireplaces, carved from the same dark rock, stood along the far side of the room. Only one of the hearths boasted a fire; the others lay dark. Jonmarc guessed that the fire was a concession to him as the evening's only mortal guest. The vayash moru would not mind the chill.

Overhead, arched wooden beams soared to the rooftop. The beams were painted with intricate geometric designs that matched the runes on the outside of the building, From the steepest of the three roofs hung a chandelier the like of which Jonmarc had never seen. The massive iron chandelier hung in twelve circular tiers, one atop the other. Each tier was made of panels cut with intricate patterns and more candles burned within, so that the entire structure glowed. Figures were cut into the patterns, each tier telling its own story. "Good to see you again, Jonmarc." Jonmarc looked up to see Riqua standing in front of him. With her was Kolin, her second. Jonmarc remembered both from the night they had taken refuge in Riqua's crypt. Kolin gave a nod of recognition, which Jonmarc returned. Turning to Riqua, Jonmarc made a perfunctory bow and took Riqua's hand, pressing the back against his lips in greeting. Her flesh was icy. "Greetings, Lady Riqua." "Better accommodations than my tomb tonight?"

"I'm grateful for shelter, whatever its form."