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  Gathered in the dim room were two score people, each wearing the formal leathers appropriate for a Clan Conclave. Each also wore an exquisitely worked wolf's-head mask that hid his or her features beneath its snarling expression. At one time, Phelan realized, he would have viewed this assembly as a fiercely hostile audience. Now I am one of them.

  Looking around, he could not be certain of the identity of anyone there, though he assumed Evantha was among the Elementals gathered at the back of the hall. He was almost positive that two female Wolf MechWarriors standing together were Cyrilla and Ranna, and he guessed the stiff-backed man in front of them to be Vlad. He looked for Carew, but could not place him among the aerospace pilots crowded toward the front.

  When one of the Wolves stepped forward, an overhead light flashed on to spotlight a crystalline podium on the dais at the far end of the room. Only when the Wolf who mounted the dais removed his mask did Phelan pierce the secret of his identity.

  Ulric gripped the edges of the podium and began to speak. "I, Khan Ulric Kerensky, am the Oathmaster! All will be bound by this Conclave until they are dust and memories, and even beyond that until the end of all that is."

  From the forty people gathered inside the room, Phelan heard one response, "Seyla."

  "This night, it is our joy and honor to accept into the ranks of active Mech Warriors one who has proven to be a fulfillment of Nicholas Kerensky's dream and one who was a foundling, but a foundling with a strong heart and vital spirit. We accepted him into the Wolf Clan as a bondsman, then welcomed him as a Warrior. Now he is to stand among us as a MechWarrior."

  Ulric raised his right hand. "Phelan Wolf, the Conclave bids you forward."

  Phelan held his head up as he marched down the aisle. The leathers clung to him like a second skin and he flushed slightly. Though he felt eyes boring into him, he did not turn his head to meet the gaze of those gathered around him. He knew they watched him to take his measure, for he was now a brother on whom they would come to depend.

  Ulric gave him the barest of nods as Phelan stopped to the right of the podium. "Phelan Wolf, have you undergone the training and passed the testing required of those who wish to achieve MechWarrior status within the Wolf Clan?"

  "As I have been instructed, I have, my Khan."

  "Do you understand the rights and responsibilities of a MechWarrior within the Wolf Clan?"

  "With my heart and soul, my Khan."

  Ulric looked up. "Are these affirmations acceptable to the Conclave?"

  "Seyla," whispered the Wolves.

  "Very well." Ulric nodded to someone standing behind Phelan. "From this day forward, Phelan Wolf, you have all the rights and responsibilities, honors and duties attending to your status. Because you killed two 'Mechs during your test, you are eligible to join a combat unit at the rank of StarCommander. In fact, the commander of a line unit has already given you a place. Congratulations."

  "It is my honor and my duty to serve to the best of my abilities."

  A Wolf bearing a silver tray appeared at Phelan's left shoulder. From that tray, Ulric took a small lapel pin stamped with a symbol that the new MechWarrior instantly recognized. The design was the eight-pointed star with an elongated southern point, the one Phelan called a daggerstar. It marked him as a MechWarrior.

  Ulric pinned it to the right breast of Phelan's tunic. "Let this symbol show the world what we have found in your heart and mind and soul."

  The ilKhan then lifted the second item from the tray, and the aide withdrew. Cast in metal and decorated with enamels, the mask seemed possessed of a savage lupine spirit. Its white teeth stood out sharply against the glassy gray flesh of the muzzle, and the upthrust ears gave it a look of attentiveness. For a single moment, Phelan felt at though he were looking into a mirror, then Ulric settled the mask over his head.

  Ulric turned him to face the assembly. "I give you Phelan of the Wolves and demand you recognize him as a MechWarrior."

  "Seyla."

  From within the mask's protective anonymity, Phelan felt fully one with the Clan. Some part of him remembered who he had once been, yet it no longer mattered. Phelan Kell had died during his transformation from bondsman to Warrior, and Phelan Wolf had taken his place. Still, until this time and this place, Phelan Wolf had been a creature of two worlds. With his acceptance by the Warriors, Phelan's integration of past and present began.

  "Seyla," he said softly.

  Ulric's aide pulled at Phelan's elbow and backed him to the dim edge of the circle of light. Without thinking, Phelan reached up his left hand to touch the pin. The cool metal felt good to his fingers, as though all his time and training were now distilled into this one symbol. I am again a MechWarrior, and no one will take that away from me ever.

  Ulric leaned forward on the podium once more. "The Conclave bids forward a Warrior whose exploits are legend both within the Clans and in the Successor States. She left us almost fifty years ago, yet returns even more skilled than before her departure. In her testing, she accomplished what no other Warrior has ever done: she destroyed four opponents, killing Burke Carson. If anyone doubted the stories of her career in the Inner Sphere, that performance confirms their truth. Natasha Kerensky, come forward."

  Phelan marveled at the woman striding down the aisle toward the podium. He knew, from the history of the Clans and Wolf's Dragoons, that she had to be at least seventy years old, but her leather-sheathed body didn't look a day over a young forty. Even more youthful than her form was Natasha's lightness of movement and confidence of bearing. Her spirit burned so brightly that it had kept her young, Phelan decided. Young and so very dangerous.

  Natasha's leathers were black with red trim, a holdover from her days as a member of Wolf's Dragoons. On her right breast, she wore the red daggerstar she had earned even before Phelan's father had entered the Nagelring. At the waist of her tunic was emblazoned a red hourglass shape. The Black Widow's mark. He smiled slightly. Natasha will never change.

  The ilKhan took the wolf mask that his aide handed him. It differed only from Phelan's in being black instead of gray. Ulric settled the mask on Natasha's shoulders, then presented her to the audience. "I give you Natasha Kerensky and demand you recognize her once again as a MechWarrior."

  Phelan joined in as the others chorused, "Seyla."

  As Natasha retreated to Phelan's side, Ulric addressed the crowd. "It is my duty to inform this Conclave that Natasha Kerensky's performance in the testing has forced reevaluation of some criteria we use in assigning duties. A person of her age is usually charged with raising a sibko and imparting her wisdom to the young. That is how it has been since the Clans were born, and we hold dear the tradition.

  "Still, it is a practice that not all have found easy to accept. Warriors have pointed out that within the Scientist caste and other lower orders in our society, an individual's useful lifetime is measured in terms that make a Warrior's career appear like that of a mayfly. Some argue that those other pursuits are not as demanding of total mind-body integration as are our duties. However, until Natasha's recent testing, no assault had ever been mounted against it.

  "Because of her exceptional scoring, the ilKhan has granted her an exceptional request. He agrees with her assessment that she had been a MechWarrior too long to easily accept 'herding crawler commandos.' She has been granted command of a Cluster that she will form from her own choice of Wolf Warriors. She has received the rank of Star Colonel and will remain in command until such time as she or the ilKhan decides that the Cluster is non-functional."

  Ulric pulled himself up to his full height. "All are to abide by the rede given here. Thus it shall stand until we all shall fall."

  "Thus it shall stand until we all shall fall," echoed the assembled Wolves. Their applause at the end of the ceremony made Phelan blush, but the sound trailed off quickly enough as the people filed out of the room. Cyrilla and Ranna, having removed their masks, fought through the crowd toward Phelan, while Ulric was shaking hands with the newly w
elcomed warriors.

  "Congratulations, Natasha, Phelan." The ilKhan smiled warmly. "You both performed excellently in the testing yesterday. You, Natasha, turned many a head with those four kills to your credit. And Phelan, your stature grew for allowing Natasha that fourth kill."

  Phelan pulled off his mask and shrugged. "Allow? I really did not have an choice. If she had not finished Vlad, he would have killed me."

  Natasha, tucking her mask under her right arm, turned to him. "No, Phelan, Ulric does not mean 'allow,' as in present me the opening, but 'allow,' as in agreeing that I could take one of your kills. Had you not agreed to work together, I would not have shot at Vlad. Even though it might have been the cause of your death, I would not have dishonored you by robbing you of that kill. That, not the lack of skill, is the reason no one else has killed four 'Mechs in a test."

  Cyrilla shook her head. "You underestimate your performance, Tasha. Many, many others have tried to bag a quartet. Two pilots agree to allow one another to shoot at their targets so that each has a chance of killing a fourth. The problem is that they end up trying to track more than just their enemies and they lose sight of their objective. They get shot out or even killed well shy of their allotted three, much less four."

  "Perhaps," Natasha said, then looked over at Ulric. "I wish to thank you for giving me a Cluster. I know you told me it was my 'ransom,' but it is far more generous than I deserve."

  Phelan frowned. "Ransom?"

  Ulric smiled. "It is the custom among our people to grant a Warrior a gift upon achieving full status as an active Warrior. We refer to this as a 'ransom' because of the ancient tradition of a captor ransoming a Warrior after his capture." He glanced at Natasha. "Despite Natasha's protestations that my gift is too generous, the ilKhan is possessed of great wealth and may disburse it as he sees fit. Giving her a 'Mech Cluster should keep her so busy she will stay out of his hair."

  The older man turned slightly to address Phelan. "I have a 'ransom' for you as well, Phelan. It reflects my great pride at seeing you qualify as a MechWarrior. It is also an inadequate token of my appreciation for all you have done for me. I cannot fully repay the debt I owe you for saving my life, but I trust this gift will make a dent in it. Ranna?"

  Ranna slipped her left arm through Phelan's right and led him out of the room. As he started to ask where they were bound, she pressed a finger to his lips. "This is supposed to be a surprise, lover, so I'm not going to answer any questions."

  She took him down the stairs and toward the south end of the building. As they neared the 'Mech bay, she took firm hold of his elbow. "Close your eyes."

  "If I do that, I can't see."

  "I'll tell you when to open them again."

  He shut his eyes and felt her kiss each one of his eyelids. Yielding to the pressure on his arm, he let her guide him through the corridors. He knew they'd entered the 'Mech bay when the clicks of their heels echoed away to nothingness. The sharp scent of 'Mech coolant and the cloying odor of autocannon high explosives also clued him to their location, but he could not accurately gauge how far they had gone or where they were standing when they stopped.

  Ranna squeezed his elbow once, then let go. "Open your eyes, Phelan."

  It took a second or two for his eyes to focus within the dimly lit cavern of a room, then what he saw took his breath away and freed a thousand memories. His mouth dropped open and he fell to his knees.

  The BattleMech standing in the berth before him rose to five times his height. From toes to throat, its slender, humanoid form suggested speed and agility. Its left arm ended in a fully articulated hand, but the right arm showed a laser muzzle where a hand would have been. The black 'Mech mounted three laser ports on its broad breast, two at the shoulders, and one dead-center.

  The 'Mech's head looked like no other in the 'Mech bay. Its jutting muzzle, tall, pointed ears, and dark viewport eye-slits formed a perfect wolf's-head image, just like Phelan's ceremonial mask. Together they transformed the 'Mech from an oversized toy soldier into a mechanistic avatar of an ancient wargod.

  Bright tints broke the 'Mech's somber color scheme in only three places. Phelan saw the hound's-head crest of the Kell Hounds painted in black on a circular red field on the 'Mech's right shoulder. The eyes of the hound had been painted green to match Phelan's. Opposite it, on the left shoulder, Phelan saw a red hourglass and realized immediately that it meant Natasha had chosen him to serve in her new unit.

  Phelan smiled when he looked at the 'Mech's muzzle, which had been painted with long white fangs in a snarling face. It matched perfectly the design he'd used to decorate his last 'Mech. That was over three years ago, back when I got myself expelled from the Nagelring and joined the Kell Hounds.

  Choking down the huge lump in his throat, he turned to Ranna. "This is Grinner. This is my Wolfhound. How is it possible? Vlad blew it to hell and back on Sisyphus's Lament when he captured me."

  Ranna came to stand behind, him, hands resting on his shoulders. "The head assembly formed your escape module. It contained the computer files we needed to reproduce the general design. Of course, we've modified it a bit."

  Phelan frowned. "Modified it? That's one of the most modern designs in the Successor States."

  Ranna patted his right shoulder. "True enough, but the technology used to put it together was old when the Star League fell apart. We replaced the skeleton with one made of an endo-steel alloy. It's a bit bulkier to stabilize in sheering-strength situations, but it's much lighter than the original internal structure. The power plant is brand new, and it provides the same power and speed at half the weight. The heat sinks built into it work at roughly double the efficiency of those you had before."

  She hunkered down behind him and pointed over his shoulder. "The armor is made of a ferro-fibrous compound that is layered together and tempered to give it increased strength at a lighter weight. As a result, Grinner is carrying roughly 50 percent more armor than before. Your forward medium lasers have been replaced with the latest in pulse lasers. Both the large laser in the right arm and the medium in the back are now the extended-range variety so you can hit your foes further out. And your targeting system has been adjusted accordingly."

  She directed him to look at the 'Mech's head and ears. "The edging on the ears is part of an electronic counter-measures system that will make the 'Mech harder to spot and also to jam many of the advanced targeting systems used nowadays. We wanted to mount an anti-missile system in there as well, but the engineers felt it would violate the original design objectives for a 'Mech that did not need to be supplied with ammo. If they get a laser-based system working, however, they're just aching to slap it on your machine."

  Phelan stared at the machine as though it were a ghost from the past. "You don't know what seeing this does to me, Ranna. It reminds me of how much I've changed and how much I've lost. That 'Mech was part of Phelan Kell. To see it standing there leaves me in awe that the ilKhan did this for me. It also makes me wonder if I have not betrayed my people by abandoning them."

  Ranna slipped her arms around his chest and gave him a squeeze. "Phelan, you should understand two things about the ilKhan. First of all, he began this reconstruction project even before you started training for your test. He was that confident in you and took great pride in your vindication of his judgement.

  "More important than that, though, is that he asked me to say that he knew Grinner would rekindle memories of what you left behind in the Inner Sphere. He is glad of that because he does not want you to forget what you were. The Phelan Kell we captured is the basis for Phelan Wolf, a MechWarrior of the Clans. Because you have known life in the Inner Sphere and have been tempered by it, Ulric says you are stronger than Warriors who have know only the Clans."

  Phelan nodded. "Perhaps he's right. Remembering who and what I was will make me stronger." He clasped her arms. "And it's strong warriors he'll need. Ulric the Warden becomes Ulric the Crusader and launches us back at the Successor States."

&
nbsp; "That is true, Phelan, but do not mistake methods for ends." She settled her chin on his shoulder. "The only way Ulric can defeat the Crusaders is to beat them at their own game. As long as he is in the lead in our quest for the goal, he can dictate terms and rules. He'll need you and Natasha and the rest of us to keep that lead. It is up to us to make sure that our drive to win does not crush those whose only crime is inhabiting the worlds on our path."

  Phelan straightened up, turned, and lifted Ranna to her feet. "Thank you for bringing me here. This is incredible. I must go and thank the ilKhan."

  He started to walk off, but she grabbed his left hand and stopped him. "You can do that tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Yes, tomorrow," she said firmly. Ranna slipped one of his arms around her and kissed him on the cheek. "Tonight, my love, I want to give you another ransom." She nibbled at his earlobe. "It is a present I think you will enjoy unwrapping, and I do not think you want to delay getting it in any way."

  22

  Wolf's Dragoons General Headquarters, Outreach

  Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth

  5 August 3051

  Kai Allard cringed as his mother rose and cut her sister off in mid-tirade. "No more lies, Romano. I've seen you indulged and shielded your entire life. Even here, people have bent over backward to please you. For the sake of your pitiful forces, we've mollycoddled you and elevated you to a rank you could only deserve in your demented dreams. I will not sit here and listen to you slander my son."

  Romano's green eyes sparked fire. 'The she-bear rises to defend her cub! Cannot your son fight his own battles?"