Wolf Captured (22 page)

Two muscular male servants, deaf and dumb, stood to either side of the double doors. When Rahniseeta and those she escorted had passed through, the servants closed the doors behind them, then turned to face the wall where the bobbing of a bell would let them know if another rang for admittance—not that any would dare interrupt such an important meeting for anything less than a life-threatening situation.

Rahniseeta saw Lady Blysse tense as they were closed in, but there was nothing she could do to reassure the wolf-woman, not even point to where other doors were cleverly concealed among the ornamental tiles. At this point, Rahniseeta must act as if deaf or dumb, or risk—so it was rumored—becoming so in fact.

“Welcome, Lady Blysse,” said the ahmyndisdu.

Lady Blysse said nothing in reply, and well she might be struck silent. The most senior representative of divine Fire in this temple was a woman younger than Rahniseeta herself. Tiridanti had marked the passage of her seventeenth year of life only two moonspans ago. Her elevation to her high position had occurred three years before that—when she was barely fourteen.

Members of u-Liall held their position for life, and Tiridanti’s predecessor had been seventy-three when a winter chill had stolen into his bones and hastened him to a warm seat in Fire’s hall.

In theory, successors were selected from all who gave service to the deities. In practice, they usually came from the higher ranks of the aridisdum and kidisdum, most especially those whose service was in some way closely related to the appropriate element. Tiridanti’s predecessor had been ikidisdu of fifty-one years when he had been elevated from keeper of ravens.

Tiridanti herself had been an underkeeper of pumas when confusing omen after blank reading had led to the rejection of all of those senior to herself, right until the day that the four remaining members of u-Liall had followed a trembling doe (for it had been the year of the deer) along to where Tiridanti was bottle-feeding an orphaned puma kitten.

Even then there had been protests from a few that the doe had been somehow influenced, but these had quieted with the stern reminder that Fire was well known to be the least predictable of all the elements. If he wanted his ahmyndisdu to be a barely educated child, then they must follow his will.

Later, so Rahniseeta had heard, the seniors in Fire had become reconciled to Tiridanti’s elevation when they realized that in her they had the potential for a reigning member of the conclave who might well serve for seventy or eighty years. This was not to be lightly dismissed, for though the deities were, of course, consulted on matters of great importance, there were many matters of routine that were handled by much more mundane political maneuvering. Many favors could be accumulated in fifty or sixty years. Soon Tiridanti was as treasured as she had once been scorned.

There had been no further changes to the conclave since Tiridanti’s elevation, though with old Bibimalenu of Air in his eighty-first year it seemed quite likely that there would be another soon. Nor was much beloved Dantarahma of Water very young. At seventy, he had officiated at the beyond sendings of several colleagues.

The remaining two members, Feeshaguyu of Earth and Noonafaruma of Magic, were of robust middle years, their elevations having followed the more usual course. Both had held their seats for a decade or more and were well respected, if not always well liked. Since her brother was aridisdu himself, these internal rivalries did not shock Rahniseeta. Every so often she’d say something to some market acquaintance who did not have a brother who was an aridisdu or who was not an intimate of Heeranenahalm, the City of Temples, and the shocked look she received would remind Rahniseeta how very different her life was from the usual.

Today, watching Lady Blysse study the members of u-Liall while they studied her in return, Rahniseeta thought that here was one who would not be overwhelmed by the height of their diadems or the history represented in their embroidered stoles. Here was one who took things as she saw them and as nothing more.

And that,
thought Rahniseeta,
will be a mistake.

Since it was a jaguar year and Fire was senior, Tiridanti took charge of the meeting. When Lady Blysse did not respond at all to her formal speech of welcome, Tiridanti’s smooth brow creased in the faintest line of irritation, but otherwise she did not comment. Instead, she moved to other matters.

“Have you been made comfortable since your arrival in u-Seeheera?” she asked.

Lady Blysse looked as if she might not reply, but then she said, “We have food and water. Shelter, too.”

“Then you are comfortable,” Tiridanti said, obviously wanting a straight answer and perhaps a bit of the praise that usually accompanied anything said to any of u-Liall.

Technically, the praise was addressed to the deities u-Liall represented, but the disdum would have been less than human if they didn’t feel a little rubbed off onto themselves.

Lady Blysse gave no such balm.

“We are not hungry or thirsty, but that is not comfort. We are taken from our own places and kept from returning. This is not comfort.”

Rahniseeta knew this was a long speech for Lady Blysse, but to u-Liall it must have seemed short and overly critical. After all, there were prisons and dungeons. Where was the flowery praise given to thank the deities for sparing the speaker from such a fate?

There was a very tense silence. Then Tiridanti apparently decided she must adapt to the situation.

“Water and Air brought hence the ship that first gave us word of your existence,” she began.

Lady Blysse tilted her head to one side and looked at Harjeedian. In Pellish she asked, “What say?” Rahniseeta knew that phrase well by now.

Harjeedian bowed low before the thrones.

“Lady Blysse does not understand any but the most elementary of the wise statements and incisive questions that fall from your heaven-blessed lips, O Fire’s Chosen. May I have your permission to translate?”

“You may,” Tiridanti replied with a gracious inclination of her head, “now and in the future. We know the subtle swiftness of the snake’s tongue, and trust you to serve wisely.”

Harjeedian thanked Tiridanti appropriately, then said, “If perhaps the great ahmyndisdu would deign begin again, I might garner your thoughts and translate them appropriately.”

Tiridanti nodded and returned her attention to Lady Blysse.

“Water and Air brought hence the ship that first gave us word of your existence. We were intrigued, for it seemed to us that in your person was embodied a gift we had thought never given to humankind.”

Tiridanti paused to give Harjeedian opportunity to translate. It was notable that he needed to use far fewer words. Tiridanti then continued:

“The artists in travel by means of Air and Water from the foreign lands noted our reverence for animals and how we turned to them again and again for guidance. One said to us, ‘Would it suit your gracious person to have among you one who speaks with the animals more easily than I speak to you?’ We said that this would be up to the deities. The omens were consulted and the deities said that we should bring you before us. This was done and now we ask you to confirm the truth of these rumors. Can you indeed speak to animals more clearly than I speak to you?”

There was a slight smile on Tiridanti’s lips as she made this last statement, as if she was well aware that communication even between humans was not an easy or reliable thing.

Lady Blysse listened to Harjeedian’s translation, then said in the language of Liglim, “Wolves raised me. I understand my kin.”

The members of u-Liall all looked very interested at this confirmation of rumor.

“And do you understand other than your kin?” Tiridanti asked, leaning forward slightly so that the gold chains on her headdress swayed. The little rubies and bits of diamond sparkled as if the metal and stone were imbued with Fire. “It was said that you went over to Truth, the jaguar of this year, and that you stood a long while as if in conversation.”

Lady Blysse looked as if she would refuse to answer, but at last she said very heavily, “I understood jaguar.”

Tiridanti turned and smiled brilliantly at her fellows in u-Liall. They each nodded, though their expressions were more guarded.

But then this will be Fire’s coup,
Rahniseeta thought.
They would be less than perfectly pleased.

“And can you speak with other animals as well?” Tiridanti pressed.

Lady Blysse glanced at Blind Seer, then shrugged.

“Beasts you call Wise Beasts,” she said, “those I can speak with. Cousins I understand only a little.”

There was a longish pause while Harjeedian explained what Lady Blysse meant by “cousins.” Some further discussion followed as to what this might mean on a theological level. Through it all, Lady Blysse waited with well-concealed impatience, one hand resting on Blind Seer’s shoulder, the other near to her knife.

At last Tiridanti asked with unaccustomed bluntness, “Can you teach us how to speak to the Wise Beasts?”

Lady Blysse looked genuinely surprised.

“I not know,” she said in the language of Liglim. “I have not tried.”

Then the wolf-woman switched to Pellish, which Harjeedian translated without flourishes, “Why should I teach you? You claim to respect the Wise Beasts and go to them for omens, but you keep them captive as you keep me captive.”

Tiridanti looked offended, jerking back so suddenly the metal on her costume clashed unmusically.

“What do you mean? We do not keep the yarimaimalom captive! Did Truth tell you this?”

Lady Blysse looked honestly confused and Harjeedian had to race to translate her words. In his haste, something of the choppy fashion in which Lady Blysse spoke came through.

“Truth say nothing. Why else would yarimaimalom stay in such crowded places when the whole world is there—at least to the west where humans are not.”

The faces of each member of u-Liall blossomed with expressions of horror and astonishment, but before they could address this point the bells above the door began to jangle violently.

Something had happened, something so dire that a messenger dared to interrupt this most private conclave.

Tiridanti glanced at the other u-Liall, then raised one hand to the slave and made the sign that said, “Admit them.”

DERIAN TUGGED AT THE BELL-ROPE, trying to decide which thing surprised him more—that he actually had the gall to interrupt what was apparently a ruling council meeting, or that he was doing so based on permission granted by an extremely large spotted cat.

As soon as he’d noticed that Firekeeper was missing from the reception area, Derian had started looking for her. Almost immediately he had confirmed two things. One, Firekeeper had not left the building, and, two, she and Blind Seer had been escorted to an upper level by Rahniseeta.

Trouble started when Derian started to follow her. Varjuna—among others—had explained that the upper levels were restricted. Someone else had said that Firekeeper had been brought before u-Liall.

“That means ‘the five,’ doesn’t it?” Derian asked. “Five what?”

Varjuna looked momentarily confused, then struggled to explain, mingling Liglimosh and Pellish.

“The five most senior servants of the deities,” he said, “one for each of the deities. They are selected from within the ranks of the aridisdum and kidisdum, and serve for life.”

Thinking about how blunt the wolf-woman could be, how poor was her command of Pellish—not to mention her Liglimosh—Derian started getting frightened on her behalf. Firekeeper was perfectly capable of saying something wrong simply out of her habit of cutting verbal corners. If she got offended—and he knew her well enough to know that she’d been on a low boil ever since she’d realized the big spotted cat was a Royal Beast—she didn’t much care what she said.

It was the definitive downside of Firekeeper’s wolfish sense of hierarchy. Until someone earned her respect, they could be the acknowledged ruler of the land and it simply didn’t matter. To make matters worse, ever since her freedom had been taken from her, Firekeeper had become increasingly volatile. There had always been restrictions she had to accept since she came east of the Iron Mountains with Earl Kestrel, but the choice to associate with humans had been the wolf-woman’s own. Derian was only now realizing just how much that element of choice had led her to moderate her actions.

Derian was growing both angry and frustrated that no one would even agree to deliver a message containing his request that he be permitted to join the meeting when a hush fell over the room. The great spotted cat—a jaguar, he had heard it called—had risen to its feet.

It leapt down from the ledge on which it had perched, landing as lightly as if it had jumped a handsbreadth rather than from higher than Derian’s head. Then it stalked toward Derian, the crowd parting around it as tall grass might have in a more usual jungle. The tip of its tail twitched slightly, but Derian had a sudden odd feeling that the jaguar was amused rather than angered. The tail twitch was a reminder of what it could do, rather than a threat to do something.

Murmuring rippled through the gathering: “Truth takes a part.” “What is the will of Truth?” “Will Truth punish him for his arrogance?”

Derian realized that Truth must be the jaguar’s name. He struggled to remember that, as with Blind Seer or the few other Royal Beasts he had encountered, this jaguar was no well-trained pet, but a person, as intelligent as Derian was himself—and certainly, in this place, more respected.

Truth paused in front of Derian and looked him up and down; then it touched him lightly on the back of one hand with the tip of its nose. After glancing up at him from those unsettlingly focused burnt-orange eyes within which flecks of gold glittered, Truth started walking toward a ramp that led to the upper floor.

Derian stood, uncertain what he was supposed to do, until Varjuna shoved him gently between the shoulder blades.

“Follow her,” Varjuna hissed. “Truth has heard your petition and will take you to u-Liall. Go quickly lest she become offended.”