Wolf Captured (46 page)

“I think,” Rahniseeta said, “that before you explain further, you had better tell me what some of these objections are. Why, by the way, didn’t anyone make them before
Fayonejunjal
was sent north?”

“Who knows?” Harjeedian said. “It is a jaguar year and everyone is insane.”

Then he grinned. “Actually, I think no one bothered with any objections because no one really believed we would find Lady Blysse or that if we did find her we would be able to bring her back with us. The fact that we succeeded has unsettled those who were ready to protest the cost and wasted resources of such an ill-thought expedition.”

“And now they look for other ways to protest?” Rahniseeta guessed.

“That,” Harjeedian said, “and a hand of other reasons. As I said, it is a jaguar year. The ahmyndisdu is very young and has enemies.”

Rahniseeta put this aside. “Tell me how learning to speak to the yarimaimalom could possibly be thought sacrilege. We can go from there.”

Harjeedian sighed, but he actually ate half of his muffin before beginning, and Rahniseeta felt relieved.

“When Wain first told us of Lady Blysse and her ability to speak with the yarimaimalom, most of us thought that this would be a wonderful thing to do. It would almost be as good as speaking directly to the deities themselves. As things are now, we must rely on signs and portents. Even the wheels and charts we use are limited in the range of meanings they can convey.”

Rahniseeta nodded. She knew this, but like most who have spent a great deal of time in teaching and being. taught, Harjeedian had a very orderly way of presenting information.

“One of the first objections raised to our learning to speak the language of the yarimaimalom was that it would further lower the lesser beasts in our estimation, for who would go through the more laborious divinations if they could simply ask a question and get a clear answer?”

Rahniseeta nodded again. “I can see this. It would further intensify the debates that have been going on since our people first encountered the yarimaimalom. Aren’t there those who have never trusted the Wise Beast auguries?”

“They are reactionaries,” Harjeedian said rather angrily, though Rahniseeta knew the anger wasn’t directed at her. “If we followed their ideas to their logical conclusion, we would be pushed back to the days of animal sacrifice.”

“True,” Rahniseeta replied. “Though how many of those would like the reinstitution of the ancient rite wherein one of every beast that crawled or swam or walked or new—including human beings—were sacrificed I am not certain.”

“A few of them probably would like it,” Harjeedian said darkly. “If you read between the lines in some of the older histories, it is implied that this was a great way to-get rid of enemies.”

Rahniseeta smiled. “But none of those who currently sit as u-Liall will let the yarimaimalom be rejected, so we need not worry. Is the only objection to our learning the language of the yarimaimalom that the lesser beasts would be discounted?”

“That is only the slightest ripple that heralds the windstorm,” Harjeedian said. “Related to the first objection is another. These say that the achievement of free speech between humans and yarimaimalom would encourage the yarimaimalom to turn the auguries to their own advantage. Some have always argued that the yarimaimalom gave less true auguries than the lesser beasts because the yarimaimalom might have their own agendas and seek to promote them. This argument has always been countered by reminding that the yarimaimalom ‘speak’ to us within the context of holy traditions—that the deities have provided a balance in this way.”

“But,” Rahniseeta said, “if we could talk to the yarimaimalom directly, there would be no need for these traditions and rituals.”

She felt a chill touch the back of her neck, though the weather remained hot and sultry.

“I can see,” she said, speaking honestly, “why some fear we verge on sacrilege. This begins to frighten me”

Harjeedian gave her a crooked smile. “If it frightens you, sister mine, imagine how it frightens the aridisdum. You and I have spent enough years in the temple precincts that I know I can speak honestly. I think all who rise high in the divine service have some respect for the deities, but though I may be verging on yet another sacrilege, I do not think that all those initiated believe with the same depth. Indeed, I suspect our mat-weaving mother believed in Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Magic more devoutly than do many who dwell within the temples and daily walk before the altars.”

Rahniseeta felt a little sad, but she knew what Harjeedian said was true—even of herself. She thought how she had felt when u-Liall had met and she had been expected to remain. She had not feared because they represented the divine, but because she knew they were all too human.

An extension of this was that she no longer felt awe of them as if they were near to the deities. Her mother would have been nearly as impressed to meet the ahmyndisdu as to meet Fire. However, it had never occurred to Rahniseeta that the aridisdu who spent so much time and energy studying the holy writings and traditions might lose some of their own simple faith.

She looked at Harjeedian and wondered if he still believed in the deities he had striven so hard to learn how to serve. She also knew she would never ask.

Harjeedian went on, “Leaving faith and depth of faith aside, let us take this new course to its logical extension. Let us say that we learn to speak directly to the yarimaimalom. Next, let us say that it happens that the yarimaimalom come to be favored over the lesser for auguries. Perhaps except in the temples where the lesser beasts give other service—as in our own and in the Temple of the Horse—the lesser beasts are all released, or at least their populations are not replenished. In a human lifetime, we would reach a point where many would think the aridisdum would no longer be necessary.”

“No!” Rahniseeta said, but Harjeedian was shaking his head and looking sour.

“Yes, sister mine,” he said. “The primary role of the aridisdum is to interpret auguries. If we spoke directly to the yarimaimalom, then there would be no longer any need to interpret auguries.”

“Are you so certain?” Rahniseeta asked, but she knew her own argument was weak. “I have talked some with Lady Blysse. I admit she’s a foreigner, but it is quite clear she does not see the world as you and I do. Who is to say that a wolf or jaguar or snake would speak without need of interpretation?”

Harjeedian reached across and squeezed her hand.

“I’ll remember that argument the next time someone talks of our becoming obsolete, but I fear the quick answer—the one that immediately came to my mind—is that the kidisdum would be as good interpreters in that case, for all that would be needed would be an understanding of animal nature, not an understanding of hundreds of years of divine will.”

Rahniseeta refused to argue the point further, for she could tell it would do little good. She settled for feeling satisfied that she had made Harjeedian think.

“So far we have three possible ways that learning to speak directly to the yarimaimalom could lead us into sacrilege,” she said. “Are there any more?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Harjeedian said. “There are many. There is the question of where Lady Blysse fits into the hierarchy.”

“Does she fit at all?” Rahniseeta asked, astonished. “How could she?”

“How couldn’t she?” Harjeedian countered. “We have let her go to Misheemnekuru and the yarimaimalom have let her go among them. That means we must accept her as a Wise Beast—as she herself has always claimed:”

“And the yarimaimalom are accepted as conduits of divine wisdom …” Rahniseeta said. She pressed her clenched fists into her temples.”My head hurts!”

“Mine hurts worse,” Harjeedian said. “that I have told you are only a few of the arguments raised to suggest we verge on heresy. I have spared you those based on divine texts. I have spared you those that argue we must set aside the current u-Liall and appoint another. I have spared you those that are not religious at all, but only based on fear of finding that we disdum will be flung out into the world on the heels of the lesser beasts—or even before.”

“Before?” Rahniseeta felt a panicked fear for the same peaceful productive life that a few days earlier had felt like a trap.

“Certainly before,” Harjeedian said bitterly. “After all, we owe the lesser beasts care and shelter since many of those we keep for divination have become dependent on us. However, if they are not going to be used for auguries any longer—and, remember, this assumes that the ability to speak directly with the yarimaimalom would replace those auguries—then why would we need aridisdum to interpret the auguries?”

Rahniseeta laughed, but there was no humor in the sound.

“No wonder there is such eagerness among the aridisdum to learn Pellish. They wonder if they might need a new way to earn their keep”

Harjeedian didn’t laugh in response. “You speak closer to the truth than you realize. One place that it has been thought that lesser beast auguries would continue to be useful are in outlying areas where the yarimaimalom might not care to live. If we begin trade to the north, we would need aridisdum aboard.”

Rahniseeta did not need to reassure her brother that he would continue to be useful, even if every other aridisdu in the land was rendered obsolete. She realized that his anxiety was not for himself, but for what he might have released into their land.

“Maybe Lady Blysse will not teach us how to speak to the yarimaimalom,” Rahniseeta said, but she didn’t feel a great deal of hope.

It seemed too much that what had been started could be solved so easily. Even if Lady Blysse refused to teach them the language of the yarimaimalom, she herself would continue to exist. If only she didn’t exist. If only the yarimaimalom would reject her. If only she would die.

Rahniseeta felt horrified, for she had almost liked the strange feral woman, but the idea wouldn’t go away.

If only Lady Blysse would die. Then everything would go back to normal. If only she would die … or something would kill her.

WALN KNEW WHAT HE WANTED. He wanted what the Liglimom had promised him—to go home to the Isles in such a position that he could reclaim his family and fortune. He realized that the Liglimom hadn’t given him a promise in any form he could insist be enforced. It wasn’t as though any vows had been spoken or contracts exchanged. They hadn’t even shaken hands on the deal, but Warn knew what had been implied in the silky words and long speeches: You give us what we want. We’ll give you what you want.

He’d given the Liglimom what they wanted. They had Lady Blysse, her wolf, and her keeper. That he’d gotten the satisfaction of seeing a few of those who had wronged him get their comeuppance wasn’t the point. The Liglimom owed him a triumphal return to the Isles, the type of return that would make Queen Valora not only rescind his exile, but shower him with new and higher titles. He wanted a return that would make her realize how she had wronged him, a return that would make her fear him, and the threat he offered to her crown. Whatever it took, Wain was going to get what was coming to him.

Wain had thought he would make his return home in some sort of ambassadorial role, protected by his importance to the Liglimom. That would have been marvelous. The Isles needed a trading partner who would neither enslave them or dominate them. The Liglimom needed a solid contact point in the north. Wain could have negotiated both—and while doing so negotiated his return to power as well.

Now he realized that unless he could get some leverage over the Liglimom themselves, this wasn’t likely to happen. For one thing, his plans had been based on a quick return and himself as one of the sole speakers of both languages. Barnet would have been his only threat, and the minstrel could have been paid off—literally—for a song or two.

However, although Wain now understood that the Liglimom were refusing to honor their bargain, he was far from giving up hope. The last few days had revealed several very interesting possibilities. One was the instability with the seemingly monolithic theocracy that ruled the land. Another were the promising hints as to what might still be found on Misheemnekuru.

As much as Wain longed to race ahead with his plans, the Liglimom’s deliberate nature forced him to act in much the same fashion. Shivadtmon—and any others Wain might win over with the aridisdu’s assistance—would go as limp as a sail in a dead calm if pressed too quickly. Because of the unpredictability of these foreigners, Wain also realized that he needed to win the few Islanders over to his way of thinking. They must be ready—eager, even—to follow when he led, even if it meant abandoning their comfortable situation.

Wain wasn’t sure he could win over Barnet. Up there in Heeranenahalm, the minstrel was pretty much out of his reach. He was also probably getting access to a far richer wealth of stories than Wain could offer. Winning over Barnet would have to wait, though Wain did hope to eventually gain him as an ally. As a cousin, no matter how many removes were involved, of King Harwill, Barnet would bring a degree of legitimacy to any action Wain took.

However, the other six should be easier to convince. They might not be feeling cooped-up yet, but while no minstrel, Waln was a merchant. A merchant’s job—especially one collecting support for a chancy sea voyage—was to sell people an idea, rather than a solid item like a barrel of wine or length of rope. He didn’t see how this would be much different. What he needed to sell first was an idea that things could be better. When he had done that, the move to making them take action against their current situation should be easy.

Wain considered where he should start. Rarby and Shelby had said only a few days before that they were enjoying their current situation. Very well, they could continue enjoying it. If they started wondering what they could be missing, they might start enjoying it less.

Nolan the ropemaker was a touch under the weather, and was feeling grateful to the Liglimom for the nursing he was getting. He wouldn’t be a good target quite yet, though Wain thought he might eventually hint that the Liglimom’s food or climate or clothing or something was responsible for Nolan’s illness.