Wolf Captured (21 page)

“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.”

Firekeeper was impressed and she let the jaguar see this. In all her experience of both beasts and humans, she had never found it hurt to reveal honest appreciation. Truth’s purr deepened as she continued her explanation.

“I was asked whether the
Fayonejunjal
would safely return if she sailed to the north under the direction of Endbrook and the others who had been shipwrecked. I was able to reply that yes she would. Sometimes I can even see clearly enough that were the entire crew paraded before me in different combinations I could indicate which crew would best insure success. This, however, is very wearying for me, so such is not usually done.”

Firekeeper thought how using his healing talent wearied Doc, and understood. It seemed to her that intensive use of a talent was rather like focusing any other sense. One did not get eyestrain from merely looking about oneself, but if one strove to see a great distance or to concentrate on something small for a long time, then indeed did the head throb.

Blind Seer asked the jaguar,
“I can understand why it would be useful to know what day was best for a hunt—or a festival—but what is all this about names?”

Truth’s ears slicked back and she hissed.

“You—you who are given a name weighty with omens—you claim not to understand this?”

Blind Seer would not grovel for the jaguar as he might have had a One turned such anger on him, but he rocked the heavy weight of his tail slowly side to side, indicating he had not meant any offense. Truth apparently considered this sufficient apology, for her rounded ears rose from her skull.

“Names,”
she said,
“can simply be tags by which one is known from the next. Then there are titles. These are earned or awarded for skill or deed.”

Firekeeper thought about the names she had carried. She had no idea what her human parents had called her, but Earl Kestrel, who had first brought her from the forests, had called her “Blysse” in the belief that she was a child who had been given that name. Later, when she had been adopted into his family, she had been given the title “Lady” to indicate she belonged to a noble house.

The wolves had first called her Little Two-legs, and her elders still did so sometimes, as a sign of affection. Firekeeper, though, was a name that revealed something about her achievements and abilities, much as the young wolf who had been called the Whiner in her youngest years was now called Sharp Fang in recognition for her growing abilities as a hunter.

For the first time, Firekeeper realized that Blind Seer still bore his puppy name, and she wondered if that troubled him. He was some five years old now, and had traveled farther than most wolves and had seen things of which they could not even dream. Still, many wolves never changed their puppy name—especially if there was nothing derogatory about it. Moreover, Truth seemed impressed by the name, so Firekeeper allowed herself to be comforted.

Truth was going on,
“But there are those who at their first showing before the priests and teachers reveal themselves to be possessed of merit. For these do we seek a name that will indicate the path which they might do best to follow. In other cases, the merit does not manifest until later and, again, when this happens, a change of name may be in order. Always, though, always, the name must be right or the deities may not realize who it is who prays to them for aid. The deities, you see, know each one by the real and truest name.”

Firekeeper wanted to rub her head, feeling an ache coming on, almost as if they were back on the ocean, but she restrained herself.

“It is not unlike,”
she hazarded,
“how Derian’s people change their names and titles throughout their lives.”

“They do this?”
the jaguar said, interested.
“Then perhaps they are closer to an awareness of the deities than I had been told. It does sound as if they are reaching for communication with the divine.”

Wisely Firekeeper kept her thoughts sealed behind her teeth. Blind Seer did not even pant the faintest breath of laughter. She thought she knew now why Truth had called herself the source of many omens, for it seemed likely that the jaguar somehow communicated the results of her divinations to the humans. However, Firekeeper was still puzzled by the final thing the jaguar had said.

“How is this your year?”
Firekeeper asked.

“This is a jaguar year,”
Truth said, clearly proud,
“and I am selected from all my kind to represent the year in this city, which is among the greatest of Liglimom cities, though some argue that u-Vreeheera in the south is greater”

“Oh,”
Firekeeper said.
“I think I understand. Derian’s people
—
and the people of Bright Bay as well, for they are kin—name the moonspans in cycles. Do your people do the same with years?”

Truth’s ears flattened, and Firekeeper knew that once again she had somehow erred.

“I beg forgiveness,”
she said quickly, having none of a human’s embarrassment about apologizing when ignorance was the cause.
“I misunderstood.
I
am a pup before your tremendous wisdom. Make the sun chase away that darkness.”

“Whatever else,”
the jaguar replied,
“your parents taught you to speak prettily. I can see that you are sincere.”

Firekeeper felt a faint chill at this last, for it seemed possible that the jaguar could divine when lies were spoken. She was glad she was a wolf, for wolves do not often lie, but for humans, who seemed to exist on shades of half truth, the jaguar’s gift could be very dangerous.

Truth licked her paw and washed thoroughly behind one ear, an action that created a mild ripple of excitement among the humans, who thus far had watched the interaction of wolves and jaguar from a distance far more polite than they had accorded the wolves alone.

“What year belongs to what beast is divined,”
Truth explained at last.
“Such divination is a complicated matter that courses over several days before the closing of the previous year. Different beasts are associated with one or more of the deities, so not only does the divination arrive at which beast will represent the year, but also arrives at some understanding of which of the deities will be taking an active hand in events.”

“And which deity is associated with the jaguar?”
Firekeeper asked, sorry now she hadn’t paid more attention to Rahniseeta’s discussions of these matters.

“Fire,”
purred Truth,
“so you can see why the coming of one who styles herself the fire keeper should be seen as of such importance.”

Firekeeper could indeed, and the awareness gave her no great comfort at all. What gave her even less was the feeling that the jaguar didn’t find her important.

IX

UNTIL HARJEEDIAN RETURNED, Rahniseeta didn’t didn’t realize that he had been gone.

“U-Liall are ready to speak with Lady Blysse,” he “I must go ahead and prepare them.”

The sour expression on Harjeedian’s face told Rahniseeta how little he was looking forward to the upcoming interview—and why should he? Who would have expected that a woman so obviously blessed by the deities would be so unpleasant?

“Bring her,” Harjeedian said, “as soon as you can separate her from Truth without awakening undue omens.”

Rahniseeta nodded, understanding. There were those in the group that had gathered to watch Lady Blysse in conversation with the jaguar who were reading omens into every flex of the great cat’s ears, every twitch of her tail. As the jaguar seemed restless, those omens were not good.

Happily, not long after Harjeedian departed, Lady Blysse and Blind Seer turned away from the jaguar. The woman’s face was a study in impassivity, but Rahniseeta thought Lady Blysse was both unhappy and disgruntled.

Rahniseeta glided forward to intercept Lady Blysse before any of those close by could create a distraction.

“Lady Blysse?” she pitched her voice low, having already learned that the other woman’s hearing was extraordinarily acute. “Please come with me. U-Liall are ready to meet with you.”

Lady Blysse’s dark head tilted slightly to one side, as if she was preparing to ask a question, but her reply was a simple statement.

“We follow.”

Rahniseeta said nothing further, but led the way to where a curving ramp ran along the interior wall, mounting to the next highest level of the building. Although the enormous ground-floor chamber and the step pyramid above were both used for major religious ceremonies honoring all the deities, the honest truth was that most of u-Nahal was an administrative center rather than a place of worship. Contained within base and apex were the rooms in which u-Liall met in full conclave, the scriptorium where documents pertaining to the business of the five rulers were kept and copied, and a variety of other rooms dedicated to routine business.

Seeing where Rahniseeta was taking their guests, none of the very important people gathered in the reception hall made any attempt to slow her. Rahniseeta felt a thrill of pride, though she reminded herself that she was little more than a servant of the great.

They mounted the ramp—aware that all but those clustered around the table where Varjuna spoke with Derian Counselor were watching. Rahniseeta led them through a doorway, then mounted a second ramp, this one walled on all sides.

She noted that Lady Blysse paused, eyeing the enclosed space warily.

“It becomes wider above,” Rahniseeta said. “We go to a place above the reception hall.”

Lady Blysse nodded, but Rahniseeta did not fail to notice that her hand rested on the hilt of her knife.

“You will be safe,” Rahniseeta said soothingly. “U-Liall will be honored to entertain you. My brother has gone to make your way smooth.”

This last was rewarded with a small smile that twitched one side of Lady’s Blysse’s mouth. So she was aware of at least some of the discomfort she was causing. Rahniseeta didn’t know whether to feel annoyance or admiration.

The ramp had been constructed so that even horses or deer might mount to the upper levels of the temple, but Lady Blysse and Blind Seer followed Rahniseeta in single file.

In case they must fight,
Rahniseeta realized with a thrill, her feeling that Lady Blysse must indeed be one of the maimaladalum intensifying. Perhaps Blind Seer was one, too, only he had chosen to remain in his animal form.

At the next turning of the ramp, Rahniseeta led the guests down a short corridor that terminated in an elaborately carved door. She tugged on the heavy, twisted rope that would announce her desire for admittance. There was no verbal acknowledgment of her signal, nor did the doorkeeper open the hatch to check who was outside. Instead, the double doors were pulled inward, granting the three admission.

Rahniseeta had been in this chamber many times before, but familiarity had not removed the awe with which she viewed the room, especially when u-Liall, the conclave of the five supreme representatives of the deified elements, was in session.

Although smaller than the vast chamber below, the conclave room still was spacious. The walls were adorned with painted tiles displaying events in the origin story and the important events that followed—a visual text of the faith that influenced all of their lives.

Five high-backed thrones were arrayed at perfect intervals along an imaginary curve at the far end of the room. Each throne was a marvel of costly workmanship: the woodwork encased in gold or silver foil, brilliantly faceted gemstones adorning the arms, legs, and—though it was not visible at this point—the backs as well. The cushioned portions along the back and seat were of tapestrywork, constantly repaired and restuffed so that the least wear never showed.

The thrones were arranged and rearranged according to the omens. Today Fire’s representative sat in the center, flanked at her right and left by Earth and Air. Water sat to Earth’s right, Magic to Air’s left. Harjeedian stood in the center, slightly to one side of Fire’s throne, so as not to block the ahmyndisdu’s view of the new arrivals.