The Dragon of Despair by Jane Lindskold

slightly above these, no matter how much she enjoyed them both. Music and dancing were, after all, entertainment only. Gardening was both entertainment and a means of providing food. The wolf-woman had lived through too many lean times to not be impressed by an art that guaranteed good things to eat, even in the leanest winter months.
    “And you’re not bored with potatoes and turnips,” Holly said to her. “That’s a good thing. Of course, most people don’t have the option of broadening their cold cellar’s contents with a duchess’s venison.”
    Firekeeper overlooked the teasing and continued trying to get a feel for the spade she was using. Unlike the bow, which she had taken to with ease, or the sword—which she could use, but was less than adept with—or her beloved Fang, a shovel remained clumsy in her hands.
    “That’s because,” Holly said with a great deal of insight, “you don’t get immediate rewards from your work. A bow, now, that’s very satisfying. ‘Twang’ and a goose-feathered shaft is sailing through the air. If you’re lucky you even get something nice to eat. With a shovel, all you get is more dirt.”
    Firekeeper persisted in her efforts, though, and by the time they retired to Holly’s cottage on the grounds she had turned over several rows and raked them ready for planting. She was muddy, too, but Holly had suggested she bring a change of clothing with her. By the time tea was ready Firekeeper was warm and dry.
    Changes of clothes and hot baths are, Firekeeper thought, two of the nicer things about how humans live.
    There was a knock at the door just as she was reaching for her first hot buttered biscuit. Holly called out:
    “Come in!”
    Firekeeper swiveled on her stool by the fire. She’d expected Robyn or Dan, Holly’s grandsons. However, Derian was the guest who entered, ducking his tall form just a touch to get under the low lintel of the cottage door.
    “Fox Hair!” she cried in delight.
    She’d been hunting when Derian arrived from the North Woods and, though they’d met a time or two since, she’d seen little enough of him. He, of course, was staying with his family, while she remained at the castle. Although Derian had assured Firekeeper she would be welcome at the Carter house (if not at the stables) and Firekeeper believed him, the wolf-woman was unwilling to take Blind Seer through the city. They’d made the trip a time or two, and it had been stressful for both of them.
    “Am I late?” Derian asked, bowing slightly to Holly. “Has Lady Voracious here eaten everything?”
    Firekeeper looked at him in indignation.
    “We have just started,” she said. “Blind Seer hasn’t even had his bone.”
    “A subtle reminder,” Holly said with a smile.
    She hobbled out to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a thick beef bone Firekeeper had brought over earlier. The wolf took it from the old woman with extreme delicacy, even resting the messy thing on the hearthstone rather than the rug.
    Derian waited until Holly was settled before taking his own chair.
    “Firekeeper, I hope you don’t mind my inviting Derian,” Holly said. “I’d meant to mention his coming earlier, but it quite slipped my mind. You with a shovel was something of a distraction.”
    Firekeeper wiped butter from her lips onto the back of her hand.
    “I am not very good with a shovel,” she admitted ruefully.
    “And growing worse with a napkin,” Derian replied sternly, handing her a square of cloth. “Good manners are for everywhere, not just for King Tedric’s table.”
    Firekeeper submitted meekly, more because she didn’t want Holly to think she valued her less than the king than because she felt particularly abashed.
    “I can free up to leave town in a day or so,” Derian said. “I’ve been waiting until the prince and princess make their announcement.”
    “That,” Firekeeper said, “will be tomorrow. They have waited so that King Allister will hear first.”
    Holly, in