'Mika, listen to me carefully,' Enor said, taking Mika's chin in his fingers and turning it so that Mike was forced to look him in the eye.
'The contract with the Guild is all important to the clan. It pays for our spear points and our axe heads, our saddles and our blankets, our salt and our grain, and many other things that you have come to take for granted. Without them, we would soon be little more than savages in the forest.'
'Savages,' said Mika, struggling to keep his eyes open.
'Mika, I want you to accompany the caravan. Be in charge, keep it from danger. Make certain that it arrives in Eru-Tovar safely.'
'Safely,' said Mika.
'Something in that caravan is of great value. Find out what it is and protect it, no matter what. If you can do that, those who spoke against you would be proved wrong and you would gain a place at the fire.'
'The princess?' asked Mika dimly. 'The messenger said there was a princess…'
'They have been here four days,' said Enor meaningfully, 'and we have seen no princess. That was a dying man's clever lie intended to incite our bravery. But Wolf Nomads need no special incentive to keep their vows.'
'Mika's brave,' slurred Mika, slumping forward as Enor released him. TamTur gave a great snore beside him.
'Yes, I know you're brave. You have never had a chance to prove it, Mika, but I know that the courage of the Wolf Clan runs deep in your veins,' agreed Enor. 'That's why I want you to go. You must leave immediately. Time is important, and we have already lost four days that the men could travel because of the ceremony. But I knew that sooner or later, you would come back.'
'You can count on me,' said Mika, thumping himself hard on the chest. He tumbled over backward. He started to rise, then, with a grunt, collapsed on top of Tamlur, and within seconds his snores were mingling with those of the wolf.
'Come,' said Enor, holding his hand out to his daughter 'We will leave him now. Let the idea take hold in his mind as he sleeps. The worst is over. He will take the caravan to Eru-Tovar, and when he returns, he will be able to get on with his life.'
'Will it be dangerous, Father?' Celia asked, her lip trembling as she looked down on the man she thought she loved.
'Yes,' Enor said truthfully, 'very dangerous. And it will surely be a test of his determination. He will need his wits about him if he is to complete the mission, and he will not be able to blame anyone other than himself if he fails. It will be the making or the breaking of him.'
'Do you think he will succeed, Father?' asked Celia.
'By the Great She Wolf, I don't know,' sighed Enor. 'I just don't know.'
Chapter 5
Mika felt so terrible the next morning, he could conceive of no danger greater than moving. Opening his eyes was sheer agony. He was afraid to turn his head for fear that it might fall off his neck. His mouth tasted like the bottom of a midden heap, and someone, probably Whituk, was beating a drum somewhere nearby. It pounded incessantly. Mika groaned. He thought he might die. He hoped that it would be soon. Suddenly, bright light flooded the room, cruelly lancing his brain like fire.
'Hush, Mika,' said a soft voice that rumbled like boulders clashing together. 'Here, drink this. You'll feel better soon.'
Groaning, trying to uncross his eyes, Mika crawled shakily into a seated position in front of the long dead fire. He took the carved wooden mug Celia handed him and allowed her to help him guide it to his rubbery lips. The first scalding sip flowed down his throat and Mika recognized the acrid taste of roanwood tea, a well-known remedy for the aftereffects of too much mandrake wine, one cure he was personally familiar with, although never could he remember feeling quite this dreadful. It seemed that he had slept where he had fallen, on the hard-packed earth floor of Enor's home.
TamTur groaned. His legs stiffened and twitched. He moaned again, a pitiful sound, one that Mika could sympathize with completely. 'Celia, give Tam some, too,' he whispered.
'Don't be silly, Mika. Wolves won't drink roan-wood tea. It tastes terrible,' Celia said, cocking a well-rounded hip to one side and shaking out her mass of flowing hair. She had dressed quite carefully that morning, putting on her newest tunic of pale ivory doeskin, edged with velvety moleskin and hung with hundreds of tiny silver bells and turquoise beads, hoping to create an image that Mika would remember on the long journey.
'Please, Celia, don't argue, give him some,' Mika groaned, burying his head in his hands and covering his ears to shut out the horrible jangling of the bells and beads.
Celia pouted but did as he directed, pouring a bowl full of the strong tea and placing it in front of the wolf. To her amazement, TamTur turned his head and began lapping the contents of the bowl from a recumbent position. Only when the bowl was empty did he rise, although somewhat shakily, and lean against Mika, his head hanging low and his tongue lolling from his mouth. The whites of his eyes were yellow, and even his whiskers seemed to hang limply from his muzzle.
'Oh, you're too awful. And that stupid wolf is just like you, doing everything you do! I don't know why I bother to care!' Celia cried, and turning, she stomped out of the room, leaving the miserable pair wincing at the noise of her steps.
One at a time they staggered from the building and made their way to the stream where they soaked their aching heads in the icy water and made extremely brief ablutions.
Squinting against the clear bright light of morning, Mika walked back into the center of camp and was handed a hot plate of food by an older woman who had seen many mornings after mandrake and knew that, although it often seemed like punishment, hot food eased the ravages of the drink.
Mika seated himself on a log worn smooth by many generations of Wolf Nomads, and gingerly swallowed the scrambled hawk eggs, fried loin of hart, and hunks of toasted mealybread.
The elder woman appeared at his side, took the empty plate from his hands and handed him a large mug filled with fragrant coffee ground from kara beans and heavily laced with honey and a hair of the wolf, a dollop of mandrake.
'You'll feel better soon, lad,' she said kindly, and took herself away, sparing Mika the effort of speech.
And surprisingly enough, he did. Whistling for TamTur, who had slunk out of the forest and obviously did not share Mika's renewed interest in life, Mika made his way through the camp to the Far Fringe where the caravan was still quartered, guarded by a full complement of twenty men. The men were fully armed and alert, an unusual circumstance, for who would be fool enough to attack a Wolf Nomad camp?
Mika located the captain of the command and made his way to the man's side, delighted to find that it was Hornsbuck, a grizzled nomad with whom he had lifted many a cup.
Then, his step slowed as the strangeness of the situation struck him. If the caravan were truly in danger and truly important, why place Mika above Horns-buck? Hornsbuck had long passed his fortieth winter and had seen much combat. He was far senior to Mika in warfare, weaponry, and the command of men.
Mika began to suspect that he had been given command in tide only. Hornsbuck was really in charge and Mika had been fed the
Mika seriously considered turning around, taking a horse, and riding away, leaving everything and everyone behind. Starting new somewhere else.
But he did not own a horse, nor a saddle, nor did he have food or equipment for such a journey.
His detractors, those who had spoken against him, were undoubtedly waiting for him to fail, to allow some harm to befall the caravan. Well, he would surprise them! He would conduct himself in absolute propriety and deliver the caravan safely to Eru-Tovar. He would honor the memory of his father in the only way left open to him.
