Wolf Captured (50 page)

He paused as if awaiting a challenge that did not come.

“Although the yarimaimalom are strong and clever, the equal at least of humans, in the days when the Old World sought to dominate the New, those qualities did us little good. Magic was what gave our enemies the advantage, and though we did not wish to follow in their ways, we thought to increase the occurrence of the divinely given talents—me fragments of Magic in each individual—among ourselves. We did not so much see this as trying to seize more than the deities had given to us, but as tending what had been given and encouraging it to grow.”

“As humans do their gardens,” Firekeeper murmured.

“Or as strong hunters do the herds,” Grey Thunder agreed. “Even the Wise Elk and Deer, while not liking being hunted, agree that without the culling given by hunters they would suffer.”

Firekeeper thought of the Story of the Songbirds, a tale even older than that which Grey Thunder related, and knew the wolfs assessment was correct.

Despite the lack of disagreement, Grey Thunder’s stiffness returned as he resumed his account, and Firekeeper knew they were reaching the core of the tale.

“So it was that the yarimaimalom of those days began to choose their mates not in the traditional ways, but by seeking out certain talents and attempting to encourage their appearance. Wolf mated with wolf not for the betterment of the individual pack, but for what was hoped to be the salvation of all packs—indeed of all those living who would choose to resist the great magics if the Old Country rulers returned.

“In pursuit of this plan, many rules of common sense were repeatedly broken. Brother mated with sister, father with daughter, mother with son, all in an attempt to concentrate the talents that lay within us. For a time, it seemed that we had succeeded. Then we saw the price that must be paid for carrying too much of Magic’s potency within a single body. It is a price we still pay, though such behavior has been outlawed for generations now.”

Grey Thunder’s gaze rested on the malformed pups, his expression holding affection laced with pity—and with guilt.

“Not only are good things concentrated,” Grey Thunder continued, “but bad things as well. Weakness within the bone or within the mind came forth, emerging alongside the talents we had sought—but so focused were we on those talents that we ignored the evidence of what we were creating, though we had ample examples.”

Cricket pricked her ears when Grey Thunder said this and again Firekeeper had the sense of something being withheld.

Blind Seer shifted uneasily. Thumping his ear with one foot as if after a persistent flea, he asked, “But weak pups do not often live. Isn’t that so?”

Grey Thunder’s eyes grew stormy with sorrow.

“It is indeed so. Did you realize that the borderland pack which first welcomed you to Misheemnekuru had more pups this season than those you met? One was too weak to see more than a few faces of the Moon. Those little ones down there are in many cases the remnants of larger litters.”

“But in protecting them so they live and breed,” Blind Seer said hesitantly, “isn’t the problem they represent also given opportunity to breed?”

Cricket answered when Grey Thunder’s only reply was an inarticulate growl.

“We forbid the damaged ones to breed, even if the only evidence of damage is something like a bit of missing tail. However, we do not kill our own children. Did your parents kill you when they thought you might have been born blind? Of course they didn’t. Neither do we. Our problem is enhanced by our island situation. Hardly any of those who now live here do not carry within their blood the concentration from those old days. When we mix, even without intent of causing Magic to concentrate, the problems arise.”

Blind Seer humbled himself in apology for his thoughtlessness. Licking his ear in acceptance of that apology, Cricket went on.

“We have reasons even greater than love for letting our damaged ones live. There remains the chance that one or more will show some strong talent when they mature, for such talents grow as the pup grows. As not even the most doting parent cannot tell which in a newborn litter will be a great hunter until after stumbling puppy days have passed, so no one can tell which pup may grow into the ability to clearly see divine will.”

Vaguely remembering some of Derian and Edlin’s discussions on breeding dogs and horses, Firekeeper carefully framed what she hoped would not be an offensive question. Both Cricket and Grey Thunder were visibly tense now and an angry wolf pressed too hard resorts to something far more painful than shouting.

“You say that this island living makes the problem live on, even after you have abandoned the course of action that led to it. Why not leave the island and blend with the packs to the west? Or, if you are reluctant to leave your watch post, why not invite some other wolves to join you? Trade out into the larger world.”

“You think we have not thought of that?” Cricket asked scornfully. “Puppies always think they are the first to kill a mouse.”

The fact that this last was a proverbial expression did nothing to ease its sting, but Firekeeper, proud of the status she had gained, did not snap back as she might have a few days before.

Cricket, perhaps aware that she had been rude, perhaps merely too angry for continued discourse, rose from-where she had lain on the rock and stalked off into the gathering dusk.

Grey Thunder watched the elder go, then turned his perpetually mournful gaze onto the two outliers.

“She has raw wounds on that matter. It is a thing on which I have no firsthand knowledge, but I will do my best.”

Firekeeper and Blind Seer waited quietly while Grey Thunder organized his thoughts.

“We will not leave Misheemnekuru,” he began, “but we are not forbidden to do so. From time to time, some of our number do go to the mainland. More rarely, one of the mainland yarimaimalom comes here—and that one is more likely to be of the winged or swimming folk. Others would need to arrange for the humans to carry them on a boat.

“Thus, especially between the land dwellers, two communities have grown up, each with their own legends and codes. Sad as it is to say, each of us scorn the other just a little. We of the islands think of the mainlanders as those who have abandoned the watch. They think of us as inbred fanatics. Such attitudes make blending difficult.”

“I see,” Firekeeper said, “and Cricket?”

“During a wolf year long ago, she was among those chosen to go to the mainland and advise the seetadisdu. She enjoyed the honor, but I understand she was less than pleased with the mainland wolves. Once her year was over, Cricket returned to Misheemnekuru, and has not only expressed a desire never to return to the mainland, she has refused to take part in choosing other representatives for the duty. She says it is a hunt she could not wish on any she loved.”

“That explains her anger at my question, then,” Firekeeper said. “If you will forgive the old angers my curiosity has stirred up, I would still like to watch the little ones with you. I am not so unlike them, you know. My shape can hardly be said to be that of the ideal wolf.”

Grey Thunder looked at Firekeeper, at first confused, then vastly entertained. His tail stirred the dust on the rock.

“Go get to know the pups, then,” he said, making clear that his invitation included Blind Seer as well as Firekeeper. “But mind your fingers. They are eager to try their new teeth on everything.”

“We will remember” Blind Seer said, “and tonight I myself will carry back from the hunt a haunch with meat and hide attached so the pups can try their teeth on something more challenging than Firekeeper’s fingers.”

Firekeeper punched Blind Seer gently on one shoulder, then together they joined Rascal down among the pups. Only once did Firekeeper look up, and then she saw that Cricket had rejoined Grey Thunder. That they were disagreeing was obvious, but Firekeeper turned away quickly, lest by her awareness she bury further the secrets she knew must be there, and that she felt with a desperate certainty that she must somehow learn.

XXI

THEY SAT OUT IN THE WARM, horse-scented night while Varjuna explained the various tensions that had been arising within the community of disdum since the arrival of Firekeeper and the clear evidence of her ability not just to communicate but to converse with the yarimaimalom.

Just a few years before, Derian would have found much of what Varjuna was saying nearly incomprehensible. Religious practices within his own family were relaxed to the point of nonexistence. The family shrine was kept clean and the ancestors appealed to at all the appropriate times, but other than that the family of Vernita and Colby Carter relied on hard work and common sense to get along.

Derian knew that there were families that viewed things differently, families that started every day by invoking the aid and guidance of the ancestors, but “‘Prayer won’t shovel any manure,’ as my daddy always said” was one of Colby’s own favorite sayings. Derian had always taken this to mean that the ancestors, and the vague supernatural powers they communicated with, would be happier if shown more and asked for less.

His horizons had broadened considerably since he had gone west with Earl Kestrel, but oddly it wasn’t his exposure to the customs of several foreign lands that helped him understand what Varjuna was explaining. It was his exposure to various levels of political manipulation.

Here in Liglim, beneath the phrases about the will of the deities and appropriate omens, Derian recognized once again the struggle of those who were in power to retain power while those who were without sought the means to gain it. Caught between were the rare creatures like Varjuna who seemed to care little for power except that their positions enabled them to continue doing what they liked best.

An interesting variation was that Ahmyndisdu Tiridanti, who as the supreme representative of Fire and leader in this jaguar year should have been unassailable, was being challenged because she was seen as the instrument of potentially heretical change. Those who actually sought what Derian thought was a more dramatic change—the undermining of an ordained member of u-Liall—could represent themselves as faithful followers of traditional ways.

“I can see,” Derian said when Varjuna had finished his explanations, “why you said you hoped that Firekeeper wouldn’t return too soon. Just her existence creates problems. If she were here and doing things, saying things, giving one side or another more arrows for their quivers, things could come to a head.”

“I fear so,” Varjuna agreed. “However, as much as some of my colleagues would like to think otherwise, there is no turning back from the problems her existence has raised. You may be able to reteach a badly trained colt, but there is no stuffing him back into the mare and wishing for another.”

Derian let himself smile, for he knew the expression would be lost in the gathering darkness. He had always thought his family was horse-crazy, but by contrast with Varjuna they were only mildly interested in the animals.

His smile faded as he thought about the situation. He liked at least some of the Liglimom and didn’t want to see them hurt, but as Varjuna had said, there was no way to change what had happened. What might help would be moderating what would come, and the best way to do that would be to speak with Firekeeper.

“Varjuna, do you think I can go to Misheemnekuru?”

“Possibly. What do you intend to do there? You know we cannot let you go any further than the outpost.”

“I know,” Derian said, “but I want to talk with Firekeeper and I have no way to get a message to her. Even if some raven arrived and offered to carry a note, I wouldn’t know what Firekeeper can read. The few symbols she sent wouldn’t do for what I need to tell her.”

“You could talk to a Wise Raven and it would carry the message,” Varjuna said, the mildest note of reproach in his tone, as if he thought Derian might have forgotten that the yarimaimalom were intelligent. “If one so offered, of course.”

“I could,” Derian said. He wondered how honest he should be, then decided to plunge in. “The thing is, Varjuna, I don’t know what side the yarimaimalom are on in this issue. All I know is that Firekeeper is alive, but troubled. Her being alive means that she is being tolerated, but it doesn’t mean she has made friends or allies.”

“True’” Varjuna said. “You demonstrate wisdom in realizing this. I think many of the disdum assume she has been accepted as a co-equal, maybe as a ruler.”

“Human arrogance,” Derian laughed, “or maybe just human fear. I’ve listened to Firekeeper talk about her place among the wolves. She’s definitely low-ranking, even among those who love her. From what she’s said, even Royal Wolves respect strength and the ability to dominate. I can’t see why the wolves on Misheemnekuru would be any different. What status she gains, she’ll need to earn, and that earning is going to be tough.”

“I believe I understand,” Varjuna said. “Because of our deep respect for the wisdom of the beasts, we elevate Firekeeper in our estimation, for she seems to have been accepted as a beast by the beasts. However, within the community of the beasts, she may have no status at all.”