He reported that he was still coming and going, watching the wolves’ camp from the outskirts without letting them see him, and spending some time at the human camp as well. Just as he concealed himself from the wolves, though, he also concealed himself from the humans—it was just that in their case, all he had to do was stay in his human form and make sure he wore nothing that looked like an Ulfar uniform.
When they reached the camp, Jerro, Theo, and a girl they’d rescued last trip, called Zil, peeled away to searchthe darker, muddier areas of the camp and see if there were any children who needed help.
Ferdie, who was visiting on medical duty, headed off with Sam, who had come to act as his assistant. Now that the camp facilities were slowly becoming more organized, Ferdie had to pretend that he was a doctor’s assistant himself, because nobody would take someone his age seriously. But he was still able to do quite a lot, and particularly for the people in the camp who weren’t willing to visit the medical tents, or weren’t well enough to go.
“That just leaves us,” Hayn said to Anders. “You look like you have a plan in mind. What do you want to do?”
Anders grinned—Hayn was learning to read his expression far more quickly than he’d have expected. But then again, their faces were so similar, perhaps it was simply like reading his own.
“I want to get a closer look at the mayor,” he said. “If any of this is going to be fixed, if anything’s going to change, then the mayor as the head of the humans, Professor Ennar as the head of the wolves, and Leif and the Dragonmeet will all have to be willing to talk to each other. And the mayor’s the one I know least about. I have to figure out what he’s like if I’m going to make it happen.”
“We can certainly try,” Hayn agreed. “The mayor isn’tlikely to be interested in talking to you without a reason—you’re a child, and he’s a very busy man. I’m guessing that’s where I come in.”
“I’ll have a better chance with you,” Anders agreed.
“Well,” said his uncle, “you’re the one with a lifetime of clever plans behind you. Tell me what you have in mind.”
Anders liked that that was the way Hayn thought of it—a lifetime of clever plans—when he could have so easily looked down on Anders. So many people had no time at all for the children of Holbard’s streets, saw them only as pests to be chased away. But Hayn seemed to find something to admire in his and Rayna’s survival.
Anders and his uncle took up a position near the front of the mayor’s tent. It was easily the largest in the camp, the canvas walls sturdy, the guy ropes taut. Anders was fairly sure that it was the only place that remained dry when the rain swept through.
Just like the first day they visited, there were long lines of people snaking up to the tables that were set outside the tent, waiting their turn to make a request or lodge a complaint. The mayor had clearly given up on hearing them personally, and now the tables were manned by aides instead.
“There’s always more people waiting to speak tosomeone,” Anders said quietly. “Have any of their requests been answered yet?”
“I don’t think so,” Hayn replied. “But the line is so long, nobody’s made it to the front twice. So they can’t exactly come back to complain about it, can they?”
Anders watched the harried clerk, who did at least seem to be listening to the woman at the front of the line and jotting down notes. The stack of papers beside him was growing perilously tall, and when a breeze blew through the camp, it swayed—he had to grab at it to stop it from toppling over into the mud.
It looked like Anders’s idea was going to work. He pulled Hayn down so he could whisper in his uncle’s ear, and after a short conference, Hayn strode confidently up to the clerk’s desk.
“They sent me out to bring these inside,” he said, reaching for the pile of papers. “Looks like I’m just in time.”
The clerk turned his head to look up at Hayn, frowning for a moment, because, of course, he didn’t recognize him. But Hayn simply shuffled the giant stack of papers into place and hefted it into his arms. Anders had told him,Nine-tenths of it is acting like you’re meant to be there, and Hayn had clearly taken his advice to heart. After a long moment, the clerk simply nodded and added his currentpiece of paper to the stack.
“Please send someone out here to relieve me,” he said plaintively. “Tell them I haven’t had a break in hours.”
Hayn promised he would and turned away, pausing to let Anders take some of the stack so they could each carry a pile of papers into the tent.
Beyond the flap there was a table surrounded by a mismatched collection of chairs, with a series of rugs on the ground to keep away the worst of the mud, and along one wall sat stack after stack of paperwork. It was clear that once the requests and complaints came inside this tent, nobody touched them.
Anders felt terrible for the people who had spent days lining up to lodge them, but as someone who had spent most of his life trying to get his hands on things he needed, he was also privately impressed that the mayor’s aides had managed to find this much paper.
The mayor, who was a tall, skinny man with light-brown skin and thinning black hair, was running one hand over his bald spot, as if intent on removing the last of his hair.
His assistants were all keeping out of the way while he talked to a short, muscular woman with gray hair clipped close to her head. She had her back to them, and Hayn and Anders took up a position by the door, so as not tointerrupt, or worse, be spotted and told to leave.
“I hope you’re not expecting me to listen to you while you’re using that tone of voice,” the mayor was saying to the woman, running his hand agitatedly across his hair again.
Anders had watched the mayor stand silently next to Sigrid at the monthly Trial of the Staff for years—the man wasn’t used to standing up for himself. The attention had always been on the Fyrstulf. She had been the one who gave the speeches. She had been the one who commanded the ceremony. The wolves had run things in Holbard all Anders’s life. But it sounded like the mayor was finally using some of his authority.
“Your people threwrocks!” the woman snapped, and both Anders and his uncle froze in place at the sound of her voice.
That wasn’t just any woman. That was Professor Ennar. She wasn’t wearing her Ulfar uniform, but there was no mistaking her. She was Hayn’s friend, and had been Anders’s combat teacher. She was a famous wolf warrior—during the last great battle, she and her wife had defended a whole section of the city wall by themselves for a full hour. The wolves still told the story ten years later. She’d led Anders’s class on a rescue mission to Drekhelm when she’d thought he and Lisabet were in danger. She wasfierce and big-hearted, but she was still a wolf, which meant she’d still see both of them as traitors.
Anders spun around and pretended to busy himself tidying the stacks of paper along the back wall of the tent, head down, and after a second Hayn caught on and joined him.
“I can’t be responsible for what every one of my people does,” the mayor replied firmly. “You’ve just been telling me you can’t be held responsible for the wolves who started the battle, so I’m sure you understand my point of view.”
