Wolf Captured (27 page)

Firekeeper glanced at Blind Seer and the wolf panted laughter.

“Tell Fox Hair that even through the reek of horse and the scent of burning wax I can tell that no one larger than a rabbit is near.”

Derian accepted this, and settled cross-legged on the grass.

“Hungry?” Firekeeper asked.

“Not really,” Derian said. “Varjuna gave me bread and cheese. He was showing off the bakery. Firekeeper, you should see the place! It’s an entire city—well, maybe town would be more accurate—devoted to horses.”

“You like then?”

“It was amazing.”

Derian started telling about u-Bishinti, and even as he told about barns and pastures, stalls and blacksmiths, Firekeeper could tell he was keeping the best for last.

“And Firekeeper,” he concluded, “I met a Royal Horse. He was called Eshinarvash, that means ‘Wind Runner,’ and he was black and white in the most astonishing patches—like he was a black horse on whom someone splashed whitewash. And his gaits—I’ve never ridden any horse with such power who also carried himself so smoothly.”

Firekeeper listened, taking pleasure in her friend’s enthusiasm, and feeling some relief that Derian’s genuine interest in Varjuna’s domain would make it easier for her to do what she had decided she must. Finally, Derian’s rhapsodies ebbed to contented silence.

“I would like to meet this horse,” Firekeeper began. “His kind might not even fear Blind Seer.”

The wolf beat his tail on the ground, chuckling at the idea.

“If a Wise Horse would carry you,” Derian agreed, “you might actually have a decent mount, but they’re not just any horse, just like Blind Seer isn’t just any wolf.”

“I know,” Firekeeper said, a bit annoyed that Derian would think she could forget the difference between the Royal Beasts and any other. “But I not want to ride a horse. I want to go see island wolves. I have thinked …”

“Thought.”

“And I think it not be as good for seeing them if you come with. Is going to be hard to make them know me wolf. Harder if I am watching for another human.”

“Makes sense,” Derian replied. “And I have to admit I’m not really enthusiastic about going to an island where the animals apparently dictate policy. What if they decide I’m trouble and tell their pet humans to get rid of me? I don’t like all this talk of omens and the way no one seems to question them.”

“Not me either,” Firekeeper agreed. “But will you be safe without me?”

“I could ask the same thing,” Derian countered. “Neither of us has been safe since we stepped aboard that boat back at Eagle’s Nest. Whatever we do, we’re taking risks, but this way you can learn something about these wolves—and the other Royal Beasts kept on those islands. I know you. Even if someone offered to put us on a ship for home this minute you wouldn’t go now, not until you understand more.”

Firekeeper grimaced at the thought of getting on any ship at any time, but Derian’s words made her remember something.

“True,” she said, “and if you are here, you can try to learn what is to north of Liglim and how we might go home by land. Ship is not how I want to go, but even if I do, we cannot sail ship, not even with Barnet’s help—if he would help.”

“I think he would,” Derian replied thoughtfully. “I think he resents not being permitted to leave, and he’s no Waln Endbrook to be lulled with sweet words about ambassadorial appointments.”

“You keep eye on Barnet?” Firekeeper asked, “even if you is not in city?”

“I can try,” Derian agreed. “I suspect it will be fairly easy. I don’t think I’ll escape being a language tutor. I rather suspect access to Varjuna’s stables is being offered as a bribe to keep me happy. What I can’t figure out is why my happiness should matter.”

“I notice, too,” Firekeeper said, thinking how Harjeedian’s body language toward Derian had altered over the last day or so. “Is almost like Harjeedian is almost to grovel, and all the rest wait to see if you grow great fangs. Use this, I think.”

“I will,” Derian agreed, “though it would be easier if I knew what I was using.”

“Yes,” Firekeeper said. “So while I go see my people, you stay here. I think you have too much to do, not too little. I only wish we could howl to each other across the waters.”

“Me, too. I don’t suppose,” Derian paused, obviously not certain how she was going to take his question, “that you’ve seen any of the winged folk since we’ve been here. One of them could carry messages—simple picture ones, like an ‘x’”—he drew one in the air with his finger—“for all is well and a circle for all is not.”

Firekeeper knew that Derian was aware how she felt about the Royal Beasts becoming slaves to humans. Doubtless that was why he hadn’t teased her again about her unwillingness to learn to read and write. She concentrated on the first part of his question to play down her nagging sense that he was perfectly right about the need for her to learn to write.

“I have not seen so far,” she said, “and have wondered. I will look while I am at islands. If I can find a winged folk who will help, then I will send as you say.”

“And,”
Blind Seer said, feeling no desire to spare Firekeeper,
“It would really make things easier if you would learn to read and write.”

Firekeeper kicked him gently, covering the action by leaping to her feet.

“Then we is settled,” she said. “Tonight is too dark, I think, by how humans are, and I have no wish to go back to snake place. Will you go there or sleep here?”

Derian rose and dusted grass off his trousers.

“I’ll go back to the Temple of the Cold Bloods,” he said. “That way I can tell Harjeedian what we have decided. After all, they’re going to have to arrange a boat to take you two to the islands.”

Firekeeper sighed. She’d been trying hard not to think about boats.

“I know. I know.”

RAHNISEETA WAS WATCHING UNOBTRUSIVELY from the main gate into the u-Nahal compound, hoping to see any of the three who had vanished earlier that day. A note had come from Varjuna saying that Derian should have reached the city before dusk. A doorkeeper had reported letting Derian into the gardens, but the redhead had not come forward. Tiridanti had insisted he be given his privacy. Of Lady Blysse and Blind Seer, nothing had been seen for hours.

Rahniseeta filled her time by musing over the possible implications of the other information in Varjuna’s letter—that Derian had been carried back to the city by Eshinarvash, one of the Wise Horses—when the young man who so occupied her thoughts came down the path.

The candle lantern he carried was sparking and guttering, and he paused to blow it out when he came into the outer ring of light shed by the temple’s lanterns. Rahniseeta stepped forward then, taking care not to startle him.

“I am here,” she said, “to see if there is anything you want, and to guide you if you wish to be taken somewhere.”

Harjeedian had told her she must be very careful to avoid saying something that would make it seem as if the parole extended by Ahmyndisdu Tiridanti was being rescinded. They had already learned from Barnet’s anger at having his return to sea delayed that these northern people had a curious idea of what was due to any living creature. Rahniseeta supposed it must have something to do with their having no real gods to give them omens.

Derian smiled at her, for once not seeming in the least distracted or awkward.

“I would not mind something to eat,” he said politely in his awkward but understandable rendition of the language of the Liglimom, “but I think that can wait until I tell someone what courses of action Lady Blysse and I have decided to follow. Would Harjeedian be the one to tell, or should I ask to speak with Ahmyndisdu Tiridanti?”

Since Rahniseeta had no immediate knowledge where Tiridanti was to be found, and since she thought Harjeedian would benefit from bearing the news to u-Liall, she worded her reply accordingly.

“Let me take you to Harjeedian. He is wiser than I in the ways of the disdum.”

Derian Counselor fell into step beside her without comment, though she wondered if the twinkle in his eye was an indication that he suspected what game she played, or just a trick of firelight on those unsettlingly light eyes of his. Her people’s eyes ran to shades of brown, but never had she seen eyes like these, in which the brown mixed in equal parts with green so that the color changed according to the light.

Is this another sign he is a maimalodalu?
she thought.
They are supposed to be able to change their shapes. Perhaps their eyes do not remain the same color.

But then she thought of Lady Blysse, who was beast-souled if anyone living was beast-souled. Lady Blysse’s eyes always remained a brown so dark as to be almost black, so then maybe eyes offered no indication of nature.

“Did you have a good visit to u-Bishinti?” she asked.

“Very. I have never seen such a facility before—never even imagined that one could exist. I understand that some horse breeders in Stonehold have large establishments, but I am certain that they do not spend time adorning their stables with enameled brick and tile, nor do they have such beautiful horses.”

Rahniseeta felt pleased, though she had nothing to do with u-Bishinti. She wondered if Derian would be equally impressed with the inner portions of the Temple of the Cold Bloods. The nesting areas were wonderful, as were some of the gardens where the oracular snakes dwelled.

Then again, Derian might not be as pleased. Horses did not usually care for snakes, and if Derian was a maimalodalu of the horse persuasion, well, no wonder he had not been happy residing in their temple!

But Derian showed no resistance to returning to the Temple of the Cold Bloods. Indeed, he smiled slightly when he glanced up at the magnificent statue of the coiled rattlesnake that adorned the top of the step pyramid. As with all the totemic representations, it was illuminated at night, an effect best appreciated from outside the walls of the temple quarter, for then it was as if the various animals moved in the flickering firelight.

Rahniseeta resolved to take the outlanders to see the display some night. Even small children with no sense of the complexities of religion liked the sight, so they should, too, and it would be something in the way of an apology for how they had been kept—she considered the best way to word it—“quarantined” from the general population.

Finding Harjeedian was not difficult, as he was waiting in the main area of the Temple of the Cold Bloods complex on the chance that either Derian or Firekeeper might return there on their own. Barnet had done so, his attitude (according to the note Harjeedian had sent Rahniseeta) somewhat forlorn, like that of a child who has run away only to find that the world outside his parents’ house is not as inviting as he had imagined.

Rahniseeta did not doubt that other temples would have been glad to take Barnet in, but he would have rapidly realized that they wanted him for much the same reason as did the Temple of the Cold Bloods, and at least within the Temple of the Cold Bloods there were a few people who spoke his language.

Now Harjeedian stepped forward to greet Derian with very real warmth.

“You have returned to us,” he said. “May I offer you anything in the way of hospitality?”

“I wouldn’t mind a meal,” Derian replied, “and unless you have a problem with talking business while we eat, I can fill you in then.”

Harjeedian most emphatically did not have a problem with this, and he turned to Rahniseeta.

“Could we eat in our suite?”

“Definitely,” she said.

She knew her brother was wondering if the suite was neat enough for entertaining. He could never keep track of what day the maids came.

“Do you mind eating in our rooms?” Harjeedian asked Derian. “My sister and I share a small suite. Otherwise, we must go to the dining halls. Given your celebrity, I think we would be frequently interrupted.”

“That would be fine,” Derian replied.

“Rahniseeta,” Harjeedian said, “would you take care of ordering our meal? You have some idea of what foods our northern guest prefers.”

Rahniseeta forced a smile and hurried away, fuming a little. She had been at her vigil for many hours and Harjeedian’s only thanks was to send her on another errand. However, now was not the time to raise the matter.

Placing the order and arranging for it to be carried to their suite did not take long, and she returned just as Harjeedian was completing what had evidently been a short tour.

“So you see,” he concluded with a smile, “we did not accommodate you any differently than we do ourselves.”

Derian looked around the suite, which, with its two sleeping rooms, covered common area, and small courtyard, was indeed much like the quarters he shared with Barnet and Lady Blysse.

“I suppose so,” he replied, “but I think it makes a great deal of difference whether the doors open to your command or only to another’s.”

“Omens,” Harjeedian said, using the universally accepted excuse. Rahniseeta could see that Derian did not accept it. “Now the omens have changed and you will find yourself free to come and go as you wish.”

“I am glad to know that,” Derian said politely, “and I hope your welcome will not alter if I tell you that I have decided to stay at least some of the time with Varjuna at u-Bishinti.”

“Of course not,” Harjeedian said. “Creatures of Earth and Water and those of Earth and Air are closely related. We are very happy to share you.”

“Does this mean,” Derian asked, looking perhaps more puzzled than the incisiveness of his question indicated, “that were I to say I was going to reside within the Temple of Felines—I understand they are considered more creatures of Fire than anything else—that I would be less welcome?”

Rahniseeta was proud of her brother’s composure, for though Derian might not have realized it, he was prying into matters that led to long and angry debate among the theologians. Among the common folk, the calmer elements were often thanked for the good things in life, while the unpredictable elements were blamed for the evil. Fire’s disdum in particular resented this, reminding over and over again how much humanity owed to Fire and how humanity had been created specifically to acknowledge Fire’s good gifts.