Wolf Captured (29 page)

“So she doesn’t think you wish to poison her,” Rahniseeta said. “That’s good.”

“She knows perfectly well that I hope she will agree to teach the art of speaking with Beasts, and she cannot do that if she is dead. However, we are taking a great gamble letting her go to Misheemnekuru. They are large enough that if she does not wish to return, and sways the yarimaimalom to her way of thinking, then we will never see her again.”

“Not all the yarimaimalom will agree,” Rahniseeta reassured him. “I am no aridisdu nor kidisdu, but I am perfectly certain that unanimity between them is as rare as between humans.”

“True. Still, if only the wolves agree to protect her, we would be hard-pressed to force her back against her will.”

“Is this why we need to be pleasant to Derian Counselor?” Rahniseeta asked.

“Partially,” Harjeedian said, “but not wholly. Varjuna’s news that the Wise Horse carried Derian back to the city has aroused considerable conjecture as to Derian’s own worth, above and beyond what he offers as a means of swaying Lady Blysse. Many will court him now. I only wish that our temple’s voice not be overwhelmed—and he does not like me.”

“He has little reason to do so,” Rahniseeta said bluntly. “You kidnapped him and used him to manipulate his friend. I have wondered this ever since I met them. Why did you not simply issue an invitation?”

Harjeedian’s face grew very still and from this Rahniseeta knew he was debating whether or not to confide matters of the disdum.

“The omens were against it,” he began, and she thought she was going to have to settle for that unarguable point, but he continued, “and u-Liall and their highest counselors thought it unwise that word of our land reach the rulers of the northern realms. So far the gods have kept us out of contact with them, and after hearing what warlike people they are, I say the gods’ wisdom is unchallengeable.”

“And both Lady Blysse and Derian Counselor would not depart without telling more than is wished known.”

“Precisely,” Harjeedian said. “The letter Derian wrote to his parents is a model of conformity to our wishes in this matter. He reassures his parents as to his safety and suggests that any questions as to where he is and what he is doing be answered with misdirection.”

“And how,” Rahniseeta asked with genuine curiosity, “is this letter to be delivered? I did not know another vessel was going north.”

“One is not,” Harjeedian said. “Derian has created a problem for us by asking to write home earlier than we had imagined he would. However, when we spoke, I realized that he expected that one of the winged yarimaimalo would be carrying the letter. I simply did not discourage this belief.”

“Clever,” Rahniseeta said. “Though I am surprised he would think such a thing.”

“Apparently, Lady Blysse has friends who have done her similar favors in the past.”

“Then she is honored by her own land’s yarimaimalom.”

“So it seems,” Harjeedian replied. “Now, we must both sleep. We can talk more later—and I promise I will remember that you are my sister, not my servant.”

“And I,” Rahniseeta said, making her own apology, “certainly will go out of my way to be pleasant to our foreign guests.”

XII

SO THE WOLFLING WAS GOING to Misheemnekuru Truth licked a paw and considered the implications of this action. She had given up trying to read the future where Firekeeper was concerned. Not only was it impossible to get a clear resolution on something that should be as clear as whether good or ill would come from this action, it was impossible to get any resolution at all. And trying to force one gave her a blinding headache.

Truth’s tail snapped in annoyance as she contemplated the fact that Firekeeper seemed to exist in the deities’ blind spot. It wasn’t really that incredible when one considered the young woman’s given name. Who could keep Fire, after all? Only someone incredibly lucky—or incredibly ignorant of the risks she took.

Then there was the wolf who accompanied her—his own name overweighed with omens and contradictions—and yet neither of the pair seemed to be able to see beyond their own immediate concerns.

Didn’t they see that the fate of everything they held dear might rest upon what they did—or did not do?

“THAT GREAT LAND IS AN ISLAND?” Firekeeper asked. She tried to keep the doubt and wonder out of her voice, but from the amusement in Harjeedian’s voice when he replied, she knew she had failed.

“Mostly, yes,” Harjeedian said. He was seated near to where she and Blind Seer were, in the bow of the sailing vessel that was taking them to the islands. Ostensibly, he, like them, was getting out of the way of those who must run the ship. In reality, Firekeeper was sure the aridisdu was keeping watch over his two not-quite captives.

“If one wishes to be perfectly accurate,” Harjeedian continued, “there are several islands situated very close to each other. However, from here it does rather look like one large island, doesn’t it?”

“Island’ means land surrounded on all sides by water,” Firekeeper said, wanting to make absolutely certain that she understood.

“That is correct,” Harjeedian said. “Our ships have sailed all around these lands—proving that they are indeed surrounded by water. However, the amount of land is large enough that such sailing is not an undertaking for an afternoon’s pleasure.”

Firekeeper acknowledged the truth of his statement with a wondering shake of her head. Prior to this, her knowledge of islands had been restricted to those in rivers or lakes. She knew intellectually that there must be other types of islands that were much larger. After all, hadn’t Queen Valora settled for a kingdom consisting entirely of islands? However, Firekeeper now knew that she had imagined that haughty woman perched with her ousted court on something like an overgrown sandbar.

Beside her, his paws up on the side of the boat so his great head cleared the railing, Blind Seer sniffed the wind. He trusted what the odors it carried told him much more than what he saw, to accurately inform him about what was ahead. He sneezed and sniffed again.

“There must be creatures who live and die for countless generations and never see half of these islands,”
he commented,
“and never realize that they are cut off from true land”

Firekeeper agreed and didn’t know whether to feel happy about this or upset. Certainly her image of Royal Wolves cooped up on a small lump of dirt, imprisoned by surrounding waters, was undergoing rapid revision. The long green stretch of land that was drawing closer as the sailors adjusted the sails so the boat could move against the wind was large enough to support many wolf packs—if the hunting was good.

The wolf-woman could imagine no reason why the hunting would not be good. The wind brought the scent of plants that could not survive without ample fresh water. Birds erupted from the shoreline as the sailing boat drew closer. She thought she glimpsed the head of some swimming mammal—otter, perhaps, or beaver or muskrat. Not the game for a wolf pack, but again evidence of a thriving and healthy land.

Firekeeper gripped the rail tightly, wondering if she had been too impetuous in insisting on coming here. Perhaps she should have taken the words of the humans as spoken in honesty. Now she was about to thrust herself not among weak and miserable wolves, but among wolves who would have every right to view themselves and their territory with pride.

Her own wolves had protected her from other packs when she was small, but events of the spring before had brought ample reminder that not all of the Royal Beasts, not even all of the Royal Wolves, welcomed her. They saw her as all too human, even as many humans saw her as all too much wolf.

What would these Wise Wolves think her? More important, what could she do, surrounded on all sides by water as she would be, if they decided she was an enemy? All paths of flight would end in water, and she could not escape that way.

Blind Seer licked her hand.

“Is the motion of the boat making you feel ill
?” he asked.

“No,”
Firekeeper said.
“A bit. What Harjeedian gave me does help.”

Firekeeper felt a bit queasy even thinking about the boat’s motion. Blind Seer didn’t tease her, so she guessed that maybe she was looking a little sick. She resolved to pull herself together. Wolves had no respect for weakness in strangers, especially strangers whose very arrival would be seen as a challenge.

“I wonder
,” she said to Blind Seer,
“if the local packs will know of our coming? Do these yarimaimalom send messages between the land and the islands?”

“We will know soon enough
,” Blind Seer said with his usual wolfish practicality.
“The boat is turning again. I think we are heading toward that cluster of buildings on the point.”

Firekeeper looked and saw what he had indicated, a selection of square stone structures constructed on a high ridge overlooking the water. There was no wall around them, but lower down the slope there were several fenced areas. Some held cattle or goats. Others were fenced high and tight, and Firekeeper thought they might be garden plots. Certainly, there was no reason for a fence that snug unless you were trying to keep rabbits out.

The boat swung, orienting on one of the several long docks that stretched out from the sheltered sandy beach. Firekeeper felt her stomach lurch. To distract herself, she scanned the tree line with frantic intensity. She had expected to see only greenery, but her gaze caught an interruption that was not natural.

“There,” she said to Harjeedian, raising her hand and pointing, “what is?”

Harjeedian turned his head in the direction indicated, but Firekeeper felt convinced he knew exactly what she meant. How could he have missed it? The solid blocks of squared-off stone rose taller than many of the trees around them, and there was no doubt that they were not part of a natural formation.

“That,” Harjeedian said, “is part of a castle built in the times before the Divine Retribution. The ones from the Old Country made these islands their first base for colonization. They liked the security of being surrounded by water. Later, when they felt safer, the majority moved to the mainland, but some remained here. Our histories relate that even with the inconvenience involved, the islands were considered very prestigious places to live. Many of the old buildings remain, though I would think they are gone to ruin by now.”

Firekeeper nodded. She wondered if those first colonists had been looking for security from the Royal Beasts or from their own kind or from something else entirely: That they had gone to the trouble to build castles, structures she now understood were constructed for defense as much as for residence, said that their fears had been strong.

Harjeedian rose from his seat.

“I hope you will permit me to introduce you to those who staff the outpost here. It is the only settlement of humans on all Misheemnekuru. If you wish to send a message to the mainland, or request a boat, they will be the ones for you to contact.”

Firekeeper nodded.

“I meet them. Are they many?”

“About twenty,” Harjeedian said. “Over the years we have found that many more become cumbersome to provision and intrusive on what the yarimaimalom have claimed as their own. Too many fewer and boredom or arguing arise. Now we use the post as a training ground for particularly promising disdum. Even with the hope of promotion as a reward for doing well, they still often find it a very trying time.”

He spoke with what Firekeeper was coming to recognize as a hint of nostalgia in his voice. Harjeedian, then, had almost certainly been dispersed to this strange place to train.

“How boring?” she asked. “It is a beautiful place.”

“It is indeed,” Harjeedian agreed, “but the humans never go any further than this point. There is ample fresh water from springs in the rock. Gardens and domestic animals supply fresh food. One can fish or swim in this immediate area. However, leaving the outpost area is strictly forbidden. Violators are always caught. The yarimaimalom are jealous of their privilege.”

“But I can leave the point,” Firekeeper stated, making certain that she had understood the terms on which she was coming to the islands.

“Oh, yes,” Harjeedian said. “Truth has said you are to be permitted to venture beyond the usual human limits—but she did not precisely say you would be welcome.”

Firekeeper hid the fear this bland statement awoke in her.

“Wolves,” she said with a calm she did not feel, “do not welcome on the word of a great cat. I am not afraid.”

“Liar,”
Blind Seer said, dropping to all fours onto the deck as the sailors came forward to make the boat fast.
“And, in this, I would not have you any other way
.”

Once the vessel was secured, Firekeeper climbed out onto the dock, ready for her knees to play tricks on her. They did, but only a little, and by the time Harjeedian had finished speaking with the sailing vessel’s captain about when the boat would have unloaded provisions and be ready to head back to the mainland, she felt quite steady.