Wolf Captured (52 page)

“Secret” was perhaps not the best word for what she learned, for the truth was there, solid and implacable. Pups were presented first as the product of their pack, just as if the One Female had properly born them to the One Male, but in some cases the recitation of the pup’s parentage showed differently.

Quite frequently, the litter was said to be “born for” their pack by the intercession of some male with some female. Almost always either the One Male or the One Female of the pack was one of the parents, but the other parent might be a lesser-ranked member of the pack—or an interloper from another pack entirely.

Rascal was young enough that Firekeeper’s questions did not trouble him. He knew the way such matters were arranged by his own people. Since he hadn’t really thought it could be different elsewhere, he answered Firekeeper’s questions without hesitation. Indeed, like young creatures of any species, Rascal enjoyed showing off how much he knew.

“It’s obvious that the most important thing for a pack is that the Ones be strong and in harmony with each other,” Rascal explained, chasing after a fat little pup who was determined to climb out of the sheltered nursery hollow. “From that harmony comes everything we value: successful hunts, fair judgment in disputes, wise decisions regarding who will do what. Haven’t you seen the same among your own people?”

Firekeeper agreed that she had.

Rascal went on, assured that the wolf-woman was sane, “When the Ones are strong together, it hardly matters who actually bred the puppies. What matters is that there is a strong pack to care for them and make certain that as many as possible grow to maturity.”

Although she grasped the sense of this, Firekeeper felt odd as she tried to superimpose it over the customs she knew. So much of her upbringing had been founded on the concept that the privilege to breed was one of the rewards for the burden of being the Ones that she had to think her way carefully through to Rascal’s way of thinking. The conclusion she reached was that this was indeed the right way for the Wise Wolves to work, but she reached another conclusion that was tantalizing—even if a little frightening.

If she lived among the Wise Wolves, would it matter that Firekeeper was human in body and therefore could not bear puppies to her chosen mate? If she lived among the Wise Wolves, would some female carry Blind Seer’s pups and not try to claim him as her own? In this way, Firekeeper could almost be a wolf, but not restrict Blind Seer’s choices.

These thoughts both enticed and troubled the wolf-woman. It troubled her that these Wise Wolves—who otherwise made her so uncomfortable through their adoption of human religion—might have a place for her, a place denied to her by those who had reared her and whose values she accepted.

Already the Wise Wolves accepted her as an adult as the Royal Wolves never had. Now there rose this tempting hint that among the Wise Wolves Firekeeper might rise to the pinnacle of personal authority. She could be a One and have Blind Seer as her mate of record if not in fact.

With the knowledge she had gained from Rascal, certain changes that had occurred since Firekeeper won her fight against Moon Frost now took on a new light—especially the actions of the unmated males. Firekeeper had thought their behavior simply reflected a greater welcome and ease with her. She had shown herself strong, not weak, adult, not pup. Thus, knowing her place, they knew how to deal with her and, being like all wolves, creatures who valued order, they were more at ease.

Now Firekeeper wondered if she had understood fully enough. Were some of the young males considering her as a possible One Female to their One Male? It would be a grand situation for them, for although Firekeeper could not run into the hunt as a wolf would do, she had already proven how skillful she was with her bow. She had shown she understood the value wolves placed on mercy as well as strength, and that she could uphold those values even when her life was at risk.

The thought that she might be seen as valuable rather than a burden was both heady and fraught with confusion. She loved Blind Seer no less, but for the first time understood the desire to flirt, to show herself as desirable. She restrained herself from what might be unacceptable behavior, but longed for someone—maybe Elise—with whom she could discuss these matters.

Unhappily, as there was no one to whom Firekeeper could ask the questions she could barely formulate, even in her own mind, confusion and uneasiness came to dominate her mind, diluting the pleasure she had taken in her new adult status.

“Like knows like best,” the proverb said, but in this Firekeeper knew she had no “like,” and so found herself feeling even more alone than she had when she had thought Blind Seer might abandon her for Moon Frost.

Bitter and Lovable, the ravens, came to Firekeeper as she was meditating over such things.

“We have news for you, two-legged wolf,” Bitter said, perching on a nearby maple sapling that bent and bobbed beneath his weight. “Your fox-haired friend is coming to Misheemnekuru. The jaguar Truth sends the message so you may more easily meet him at the outpost. Derian will be there midday tomorrow if Air and Water permit, and the omens say they will.”

Firekeeper felt her face light with a smile. In her current mood, this announcement of Derian’s coming was a huge relief. There was no way Firekeeper would discuss these personal matters with him, but there was much she could tell him, including some of what she and Blind Seer had seen in the ruins.

She leapt to her feet, bowing in a hybrid of human and wolf fashions to express her thanks.

“But I have something nice for you,” she said, addressing Lovable, for thus far Bitter had disdained her offered gifts. “Blind Seer found it when we were digging through one of the ruined denning sites of the Old Country rulers.”

She shinnied up the apple tree and drew the sapphire and diamond pendant from where she’d cached it in the crotch of two large branches. Even cupped in her hand, it sparkled, and when she dangled it from the thong on which she’d strung it, it shone like sunlight captured in frozen dewdrops.

“Humans hang these around their necks,” Firekeeper said. “They serve no purpose but to catch the light and look pretty. I thought you might like this one.”

Lovable hopped eagerly along the branch where she had perched, flapping her wings enough that Bitter puffed out his neck feathers in disgust.

“Give me! Give me!” she squawked, taking the thong in her beak. “Pretty! Pretty!”

Bitter sleaked his feathers. “You are as stupid about sparkling things as if you were a lesser beast.”

Firekeeper couldn’t help but smiling. The comparison was apt, but she also suspected that Lovable rather enjoyed annoying Bitter.

“I would give you a gift as well,” Firekeeper said, “but I fear nothing but my most sincere thanks would satisfy a connoisseur like yourself.”

Bitter sleeked his feathers again, and Firekeeper knew she had pleased him more than if she had offered him the largest gem in all the world.

“Please thank the jaguar Truth for granting me this information,” Firekeeper continued. In the largely propertyless world of the yarimaimalom, she knew words counted for much—though actions for more. “She must have sent word as soon as the decision was made.”

Bitter hacked a raven’s laugh.

“Oh, she sent it long before the humans had decided. Remember, Truth is gifted with foresight. She knew what they would decide, even as they worked their way to a decision.”

Firekeeper felt a bit uncomfortable about this, but she had decided that much of this talk of foresight must be symbolic rather than literal. Hadn’t Truth admitted she could not see clearly where Firekeeper was concerned?

“Even with Truth’s forewarning,” Firekeeper said, “I should begin my run with little delay. I have a fair way to go.”

“Run then,” Bitter said. “We shall fly and let Lovable cache this shining thing.”

Firekeeper held up a hand. “If you will let me,” she said to Lovable, “I can loop that around your neck much as we did the message capsule. It will be heavier and may unbalance you …”

Lovable hopped over. “Do it! Do it!”

Firekeeper did, and when the ravens launched themselves into flight, she saw the gemstones gleaming against the dark feathers as Lovable made her slightly lopsided flight.

Blind Seer had seen the ravens’ arrival, but had politely waited until they were gone to come over and learn the reason for their visit.

“Derian comes,” Firekeeper explained, removing her bow and arrows from their cache in the tree. “I go to the outpost to speak with him. Will you come with me or shall I find you here?”

“I’ll run with you,” the blue-eyed wolf replied. “I’d hear what Fox Hair says, and remind you of all we have to tell him.”

Firekeeper leapt lightly down.

“I am glad to have you with me,” she said. “Shall we tell the others where we go? We owe them no deference, but they have been good hosts.”

“We will tell them,” Blind Seer said. “We are no newly made hunters to prop up our achievements with rudeness.”

Firekeeper glowed inside at this reflection of his opinion of her. She knew too well how new-made her own status was—it was good to know that for him she had never been less.

Cricket and Neck Breaker were easiest to locate, and so to them Firekeeper and Blind Seer made their explanations.

“Will you return?” Cricket asked.

“If we are welcome,” Firekeeper replied. “I understand the joined packs will soon split again, but we have much yet that you could teach us.”

Neck Breaker thumped his tail in approval.

“You are welcome to return to our pack,” he said, “and I think I do not take too much on myself to say that I believe you are welcome in any of these packs.”

Cricket agreed. “The ocean fish have ended much of their run, and soon summer hunting begins, but we will make certain all the wolves know where you go and that you hope to return.”

There was no need for more to be said, and no empty wishes for luck along the trail.

That’s
the way of
wolves,
Firekeeper thought with satisfaction as she and Blind Seer fell into the jog that would carry them for great distances without much fatigue.
Humans wish each other luck as if it comes from outside, but wolves make their own luck.

She knew she was being smug, but with the wind kissing her hair, and Blind Seer running beside her through the coolness of the shaded forest understory, she didn’t care.

XXII

HE’D FORGOTTEN HOW strange she was. Derian hadn’t thought this was possible. He knew he’d gotten used to the wolf-woman, but at the moment when Firekeeper stepped out of the forest’s edge and came to greet him, he realized he’d been expecting someone else—someone other …

Her hair needed a good combing. Her clothing—trousers and blouse after the style worn by the Liglimom—was definitely the worse for wear. It needed a wash, and the cotton fabric had never been intended for the hard use to which she had put it. But it wasn’t just that Firekeeper needed grooming to bring her image into harmony with the person Derian expected. He’d forgotten the barely suppressed wildness in her every step, the assessing darkness in her eyes, the hundred and one little characteristics that made Firekeeper somehow other than human.

In contrast, Blind Seer, padding with his usual contained swagger at her left, looked positively familiar.

Harjeedian and Derian had discussed the various problems at length on the voyage over to Misheemnekuru, but once they had docked, the aridisdu had left Derian.

“I’m going to visit with the residents of the outpost,” Harjeedian said. “Lady Blysse holds no liking for me, and I will not complicate an already too complicated matter with my presence. If she does not appear, you are welcome in the outpost. I know from my fellows’ letters that she has not hesitated to come there.”

Derian had agreed that he would do better to wait for Firekeeper alone. He didn’t know if he’d ever like Harjeedian, but the more he learned of the reasons that had led to the aridisdu’s role in their kidnapping, the more he didn’t actively dislike him. Harjeedian was another person who seemed to be transforming under his eyes the longer Derian knew him. Was that the problem with this strangeness he now saw in Firekeeper—that Derian had thought he knew her and now must face how little he did know?

Doing his best not to show his disquiet, Derian moved to meet Firekeeper halfway between the forest’s edge and the dock.

“I thought someone might tell you I was coming,” he said, knowing the wolf-woman’s disdain for empty conversation. “Nice to know you’ve made some friends.”

“Some,” Firekeeper replied with a slight smile, the monosyllable saying more than sentences would have done. “We speak nearer forest? Blind Seer hot in this sun.”

Derian had noticed the wolf was panting. Indeed, his own shirt was sticking to his back.

“I’d be glad to go into the forest, as long as I don’t trespass over any boundaries. I promised not to violate any of the agreements between the yarimaimalom and the Liglimom.”

“I keep you safe,” Firekeeper replied, and without another word she turned and led the way into the greenshaded coolness.