Wolf Captured (100 page)
The jaguar stepped back. Feeling as if she were being tugged by an invisible thread, Rahniseeta stepped forward. Cheers rose from the excited multitude, and if the faces of a few of the disdum were less joyful, Rahniseeta couldn’t blame them. Twice in as many elections, the deities had chosen one from outside of the usual order—first Tiridanti, so young for her post, now Rahniseeta, who wasn’t even a disdu.
I wonder what the deities are trying to tell us?
Rahniseeta thought. Then she saw Derian’s expression.
The red-haired northerner was standing only a few steps away, but clearly he was aware of the gulf that so suddenly gaped between them. Rahniseeta knew Derian didn’t believe in the deities, but he would have respected her beliefs. In a private person, this would have been enough. Indeed, Rahniseeta suspected there were many who went through the forms of belief without holding belief, but such charades would not be enough for the spouse of a member of u-Liall.
Unable to look at Derian, Rahniseeta sought Harjeedian. She found him looking differently stunned, but even as she watched, Harjeedian’s disappointment was changing into delight. He did believe that the deities directed this choice, and accepted the miracle that the younger sister he had done so much to care for had been chosen to represent Water. This choosing was validation of all the favors Harjeedian had begged on Rahniseeta’s behalf, all the little sacrifices he had made on her behalf, all his pleasure was evident.
A heavy clopping sounded above the human voices, and Rahniseeta turned to see the Wise Horse Eshinarvash coming through the crowd. The throng parted before him, all the excited chatter falling silent. Eshinarvash had come to carry Rahniseeta to Heeranenahalm, to grant her a perch high above the crowd so that everyone could see her. If she accepted his offer, Rahniseeta knew there would be no changing her mind.
She turned to the man who, until moments before, she had thought would be her husband. Rahniseeta forced herself to look him squarely in those strange hazel eyes, and saw their greenish brown overwashed with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry, Derian,” she said, then turned away.
Eshinarvash knelt, and despite her broken arm, Rahniseeta had no difficulty mounting. Then she felt herself rising, being carried upward in triumph.
Though she looked side to side, acknowledging the cheers of those who lined the processional way, she never looked back.
FIREKEEPER KNEW HER news would do little to alleviate Derian’s pain, but she went to tell him anyhow. She found him in one of the suites of the building that had housed Waln and his people. It was nearly empty now, and had been given over to the remaining northerners.
Derian had been invited to return to u-Bishinti, but he had delayed, wanting to resolve the questions that remained regarding the northerners’ status, and the likelihood of their returning home. Perhaps, too, he had not wanted to put himself where the pity of his friends and Zira’s all too knowing gaze would not let him forget his loss.
Padding in soft-foot, Firekeeper found Derian lounging in a chair, apparently listening to Barnet strumming something on one of his string instruments. That Derian’s thoughts were far away became evident from how he started when Firekeeper spoke.
“The Wise wingéd folk have agreed to carry messages home to our people,” she said without preamble. “They know it is dangerous—the Royal Beasts have no love of them—but I have telled them to use my name and maybe some will manage.”
“Told,” Derian said automatically. Then he sat up straight in his chair. “Are you saying that the letters I’ve been writing home might not have gotten there?”
Firekeeper shrugged. “How do they? The Liglimom have no trade to the north.”
“I guess I …” Derian trailed off, frowning. “I guess I did think the yarimaimalom would have had something to do with it. Harjeedian did rather lead us to think that.”
“Harjeedian,” Firekeeper said, “does not so much lie as let you think and not say. I have guessed for some time, but I not see that this will help you.”
Derian nodded. “I can see that.”
He made as if to get up and search for paper and pen, then slumped into his chair.
“What does it matter? How can I write my parents about any of this?”
Barnet set his instrument aside.
“You can let them know you’re alive. It’s been two moonspans and more since you disappeared. It’s going to be at least another before you can be in Port Haven. One of the yarimaimalo will get there a lot sooner.”
Derian looked at the minstrel, his expression guarded as it had been since he had learned Barnet would be returning to the Isles.
“Do you have family back north?”
“I do,” the minstrel replied.
“You’ve been gone a lot longer than I have,” Derian said, almost accusingly. “Doesn’t it bother you? Didn’t you want to jump ship rather than go kidnapping?”
Barnet gave a humorless smile.
“Of course I did, but you know we weren’t given much more choice than you were. I thought about jumping ship in Hawk Haven, but, well … I had my reasons for going along with what Harjeedian wanted.”
“Like wanting revenge against Hawk Haven,”
Firekeeper said to Blind Seer.
“I wonder how Barnet finds that taste now.”
“Sour,”
the wolf replied.
“You can smell it on him.”
“But I’m not the louse you think me,” Barnet went on. “In Port Haven I managed to get a letter out to my family. I said I was on secret business for the queen and they weren’t to worry—I’d make them proud when I came home.”
“And the rest of the sailors?” Derian asked. “Did you send messages to their families, too?”
“I didn’t,” Barnet admitted, “but I’ll go home and make sure due honor will be given to those who died—especially those who died in the original shipwreck and so are guiltless of all that followed.”
“Where do lies end and stories begin?” Derian asked softly, but to Firekeeper’s satisfaction he rose and located letter-writing materials.
“Write small,” she reminded him. “It must go with a seagull or osprey.”
“I’ll remember,” Derian said.
“Then when you write family, write King Tedric, too,” Firekeeper said. “The Wise winged folk say they take to him, too. This way he know before sweet speaking ambassadors come.”
Derian grinned, the first such expression Firekeeper had seen since Rahniseeta had ridden away.
Later that evening, when Barnet had gone to visit his lover, the other three went for a walk along the wharves. The locals watched them with polite fascination, but none obstructed them. Versions of what Dantarahma and his allies had been about were being circulated. In those stories, the northerners were being represented as divine agents, brought to set things right.
Firekeeper doubted this, but she didn’t mind the respect with which the Liglimom viewed her. Blind Seer strolled along with such arrogance that Firekeeper teasingly told him he must have cat blood. The blue-eyed wolf laughed, then grew serious.
“It’s not so funny,”
he said,
“when one knows of the maimalodalum.”
Across the waters, Misheemnekuru lay, dark green, hiding more mysteries than her mainland neighbors could imagine. Now, with the elevation of Rahniseeta, the maimalodalum knew there was one in power who knew of their existence. Would they welcome this or fear it?
Firekeeper didn’t know.
Derian’s voice broke what to him had been silence.
“So, the disdum have accepted that you cannot teach anyone how to speak to the yarimaimalom. You’re free to go wherever you want. Are you going back to Misheemnekuru?”
Though he was obviously making an effort to speak smoothly, Firekeeper heard the catch in his voice.
“Yes.” She shook as if to rid herself of flies and concentrated on making her meaning clear. “The yarimaimalom and the maimalodalum all have much to teach.”
“I thought,” Derian said, “you might make a home on Misheemnekuru. Those there don’t seem to draw many lines between human and otherwise—and there were those who admired you.”
“No,” Firekeeper said, and her hand rested on Blind Seer’s shoulder. “We not make a forever home there, only for a little.”
Derian relaxed, and Firekeeper knew he had felt himself rather universally abandoned. He would recover, she thought, though his heart would stay sore for a time. Firekeeper knew she would always mourn Questioner. A short acquaintance was no guarantee against grief at parting.
Firekeeper wished she had the words to explain to Derian what she had learned, but in this, as in so many other things, she struggled to be human.
Free as she was to go anywhere her feet would carry her, Firekeeper knew herself to still be a captive, but thanks to Questioner and the others, she knew at last who held her so.
Her captor was not the Liglimom nor the wolves nor any to whom she felt love or duty. Firekeeper knew her ultimate captor was none other than herself. She had chosen to walk a way between worlds, to be neither human nor wolf nor anything other than Firekeeper.
Meeting Blind Seer’s gaze, Firekeeper knew he too had made choices that set him apart from his people. They both were captives—or perhaps in openly admitting what bound them, they both were truly free.
DETAIL MAP OF THE LAND OF LIGLIM
For Jim—
who listens when I
talk, and notices
when I don’t
Through Wolf’s Eyes
Wolf’s Head, Wolf’s Heart
The Dragon of Despair
The Buried Pyramid
Wolf Captured
Child of a Rainless Year
Wolf Hunting
Wolf’s Blood
“Which is your gift?”
Firekeeper asked Truth with genuine interest.
“I can divine the future,”
the jaguar replied, the rumbling purr that underlay the announcement making clear how pleased she was with her gift.
“I can divine whether an action will have good consequences or bad. I can divine which name is propitious, or on what day a festival should be held. I am the source of many omens and this is my year.”
Firekeeper stared, trying to take all of this in, and settling for breaking her questions into small parts.
“You can tell what the future will be? For how far ahead?”
Truth licked a paw.
“The future is like a stream breaking into many rivulets as it passes over rocks. The farther away an event is, the less accurately I am able to tell, but if an event is sufficiently momentous, then it cuts a deep course and I can read it truly.”
Agneta
1
Norwood:
(H.H.) daughter of Norvin Norwood and Luella Stanbrook; sister of Edlin, Tait, and Lillis Norwood; adopted sister of Blysse Norwood (Firekeeper).
Aksel Trueheart:
(Lord, H.H.) scholar of Hawk Haven; spouse of Zorana Archer; father of Purcel, Nydia, Deste, and Kenre Trueheart.
2
Alben Eagle:
(H.H.) son of Princess Marras and Lorimer Stanbrook. In keeping with principles of Zorana I, given no title as died in infancy.
Alin Brave:
(H.H.) husband of Grace Trueheart; father of Baxter Trueheart.
Allister I:
(King, B.B.) called King Allister of the Pledge, sometimes the Pledge Child; formerly Allister Seagleam. Son of Tavis Seagleam (B.B.) and Caryl Eagle (H.H.); spouse of Pearl Oyster; father of Shad, Tavis, Anemone, and Minnow.
Alt Rosen:
(Opulence, Waterland) ambassador to Bright Bay.
Amery Pelican:
(King, B.B.) Spouse of Gustin II; father of Basil, Seastar, and Tavis Seagleam. Deceased.
Anemone:
(Princess, B.B.) formerly Anemone Oyster. Daughter of Allister I and Pearl Oyster; sister of Shad and Tavis; twin of Minnow.
Apheros:
(Dragon Speaker, N.K.) long-time elected official of New Kelvin, effectively head of government.
Aurella Wellward:
(Lady, H.H.) confidante of Queen Elexa; spouse of Ivon Archer; mother of Elise Archer.
Barden Eagle:
(Prince, H.H.) third son of Tedric I and Elexa Wellward. Disowned. Spouse of Eirene Norwood; father of Blysse Eagle. Presumed deceased.
Barnet Lobster:
(Isles) sailor on the
Explorer
.
Basil Seagleam:
see Gustin III.
Baxter Trueheart:
(Earl, H.H.) infant son of Grace Trueheart and Alin Brave. Technically not a title holder until he has safely survived his first two years.