Wolf Captured (54 page)

“I do not need to be granted an audience from Aridisdu Harjeedian,” Shivadtmon said frostily. “I can speak to a member of u-Liall myself. I am quite good friends with Junjaldisdu Dantarahma. He was one of my teachers before his elevation.”

Wain looked appropriately impressed, but decided it couldn’t hurt to twist the knife a bit more.

“If you could speak to the junjaldisdu that would be wonderful,” he said. Then with innocent concern etched all over his face, he went on, “But will Junjaldisdu Dantarahma be able to overrule something Ahmyndisdu Tiridanti has ordained? I have heard so much about this being a jaguar year, and how Fire’s influence dominates the other four elements.”

Shivadtmon’s jaw tightened.

“It may be a jaguar year, but that does not mean Ahmyndisdu Tiridanti is the only one who can take omens. Nor is she greater than the other members of u-Liall. A jaguar year gives Fire some importance, but it remains one among the five elements—and a child of Water and Air as well.”

Wain was tempted to push even harder, but he knew that he had Shivadtmon ready to go agitate for the shipwreck survivor’s freedom. There was nothing else to be gained here—and besides, Wain was pretending to feel unwell. Pushing would be out of character.

“Well,” Warn said, reaching for the book in which he kept his teaching notes, “let us get on with your lesson. I apologize for keeping you from your studies with my minor concerns.”

Shivadtmon, however, had risen and was gathering up his materials.

“I beg your forgiveness,” the aridisdu said, “but though you properly seek not to press your appeal, this is an important matter. We cannot have our guests growing ill from lack of exercise and fresh air. It would be an insult to the deities who brought you to us.”

Wain, hearing points of debate evolving, had the wisdom not to delay Shivadtmon. Instead, after the aridisdu had departed, and having some time before his next student would arrive, Wain wandered to the common area on the ground floor. He found Shelby and Rarby there before him, absorbed in a game of Navy versus the Pirates.

Rarby was playing the pirates and, judging from Shelby’s scowl, was winning. Wain wasn’t surprised. Even among Islanders who had never sailed a pirate venture in their lives, the pirates were figures of romance, and most players concentrated their skills on learning those tactics.

“Done with classes for the day?” Wain asked jovially.

“Not begun,” Shelby replied, obviously glad for a distraction. “Saw your first student leave early. Piss him off by criticizing his accent?”

Wain grinned. “Nope. Aridisdu Shivadtmon and I are good buddies, such good buddies that he’s gone off to talk with Junjaldisdu Dantarahma about getting us shore leave.”

“Shore leave?” Rarby asked, then grinned. “You mean we could go out to the market? I think I know every brick in this courtyard. I’d love a stroll—and maybe a visit to some accommodating lady.”

Wain hadn’t thought of this angle. The Liglimom had offered a variety of entertainment, but had stopped short of bringing in prostitutes—probably because it would make the shipwreck survivors’ true status apparent.

“Better be careful with that,” he warned. “We don’t know how the Liglimom feel about such things.”

“You might not,” Shelby scoffed, “but we didn’t bunk belowdecks with the hands on
Fayonejunjal
without hearing plenty of stories. Problem will be getting our hands on solid money. I doubt temple association will do.”

Wain nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, but let’s be tactful about it. You’ve gone longer without, shipboard.”

“Shipboard,” Shelby said bluntly, “we were a hell of a lot more tired. Does things to a sailor’s drive when he’s hauling line in the wet.”

Wain gave up. He didn’t want the northerners to be seen as rutting animals, but maybe it would be best if Rarby and Shelby came across as less than sophisticated. It would make the Liglimom more willing to work with Wain, rather than negotiating separately with each of them.

Wain spent a little more time extolling the attractions of getting out of their prison—though he was careful not to call it such with these two, lest they remember their earlier fears—and wandered off to find Tedgewinn.

The carpenter’s mate was busy with a student, so Wain stopped in to visit Nolan, dropping in his ears a hint or two about the possibility that his illness might have been brought on by confinement. Then Wain retired to his own suite and picked up a book one of his other students had given him. It was a children’s book about the settlement days, and Wain was translating it word by painful word.

The Old Country rulers had come prepared to settle. Once they had settled they had not hesitated to indulge themselves. That was clear even in this simple primer. After a while Wain ceased reading, his imagination captivated by what treasures might be awaiting him amid the tangled forests and crumbling ruins of Misheemnekuru.

“SO FIREKEEPER HAS HEARD about maimalodalum,” Truth said to Bitter. “You know what that means.”

The raven had found her drowsing in the gardens surrounding u-Nahal and reported eavesdropping on the long conversation between Derian Carter and Firekeeper that had taken place the afternoon before. Normally, Truth would have resented being awakened, but her dreams had been so troubled that she was glad.

“I don’t have your gift for divination,” the raven replied, “but I don’t need it for this. Firekeeper is going to want to learn more about them. The question is, how much do we tell her?”

Truth licked her paw. She had prayed very hard on this matter and the deities had vouchsafed her the clearest reply she’d gotten on any matter having to do with Firekeeper. Oddly, the jaguar found this clarity unsettling rather than otherwise. Why did the deities grant visions on this matter when they were mute on so many others?

Truth could not divine the reason for this, but she did know she wasn’t going to tell Bitter about her growing feeling that she was being played with by the deific forces she served. It was for cats to toy, not to be the toys of others—not even if those others were divinities.

“We will tell Firekeeper about the maimalodalum,” Truth replied, “but we don’t tell her everything.”

“Like what don’t we tell her?” Bitter asked. “Already Rahniseeta has told Derian about the wearing of skins or carrying of a token. We could deny that, I suppose … .”

“No. If she already knows that, we do not deny her. We simply will not tell her about the cost to gain that token, at least not right away.”

“Why not? Surely Firekeeper should know about that, and about …”The raven paused and preened the feathers of one wing, uncharacteristically nervous. “And about the other things.”

Truth licked one paw and groomed behind her ear. The rhythmic motion soothed her, and she could answer calmly though her brain was burning with flashes of uncertainty.

“Because it is important that she know about those other things we cannot risk her refusing to see them. If she refuses to see them, to witness them with her own eyes, she may be able to disbelieve. She is from the north and those northerners have a deep aversion to the things of the Old World. There is a chance that she will shy away if she learns everything all at once—and the deities have made it very clear that she must go to the central island.”

“There?” Bitter puffed out his feathers as against the cold. “Most of our own do not go there.”

“A few go there,” Truth corrected. “Didn’t you mention a wolf called Dark Death has recently come to the large island? He is born of the pack that guards the central island. I do not think his coming at this time is coincidence.”

Actually, Truth wasn’t sure whether it was coincidence or not, but Truth was not above aiding her visions with more deductive insights. The visions were so often like dreams remembered just after waking—clear enough that one could remember the logic that had functioned within them and even suspect what had inspired them. Later, when the dreams had faded, it was necessary to make the connections for others.

Truth knew that this making of connections was her weak point. It was not simply chance that associated felines and Fire. Like Fire, cats great and small excelled at tearing apart rather than connecting. Nest builders like birds and rodents made better interpreters, but the predators usually were , sharper at receiving the initial images—and the solitary hunters, like the great cats, sharpest of all.

“Perhaps Dark Death’s arrival is not coincidence,” Bitter replied. The raven sounded as if he doubted this. “However, wolves do roam great distances when the mating urge is on them, and the central-island wolves need go further than most to avoid mating their close kin.”

Truth extended. the claws of one raised paw, saying in effect, “You question my vision?”

Bitter flapped, the motion containing refusal to either admit questioning Truth’s divinations or to apologize.

Truth knew Bitter had flown back and forth between Misheemnekuru and the mainland several times. Doubtless he was tired and his temper, never bright, even from the egg, must be frayed. Therefore, she decided to let the matter rest.

“Will you or one of your winged kin fly to Misheemnekuru and inform the wolves of the deities’ will in this matter?” Truth asked. “Firekeeper will visit with her human friend, then return to the wolves, full of questions. The wolves should be prepared both for those questions and for what they should not say.”

“I will have an osprey carry the message,” Bitter replied. “My wings are weary of the buffeting of salt winds.”

“Done, then,” Truth said. “Take my thanks for making these arrangements. Tell the wolves—indeed any who question—that their own diviners may test my vision against theirs. I think they will agree this course follows the divine will.”

Bitter flapped as if about to depart, then he folded his wings.

“Truth, do you know why it is so important that Firekeeper go to the central island?”

Truth hesitated, uncertain how much to say. Eventually, she decided that honesty would only help her with this gloomy black bird. He would not take commands as would a doe or other fearful prey animal.

“I have had visions,” Truth said, “repeated visions of Firekeeper being there. These are the only visions I have had of her in any place. Her very presence muddles the future, but perhaps because of the fact that she is certain to be interested in the maimalodalum, this one thing is clear. If she is not scared away, Firekeeper will go to the central island. There is nothing in the visions to indicate that the deities do not want her there. Indeed, I sense that were we to try and prevent her going, they would be displeased. That is all I have, but since it is all I have, I assign importance to it.”

Bitter flapped up to the top of the wall enclosing the garden.

“I think I understand. I will speak to the osprey. The osprey will speak to the wolves and the wolves to Firekeeper. You do not wish the osprey to carry the message directly to her?”

“No. She is suspicious of our divinely blessed visions and might balk. She is also most pleased when she believes she follows her own will …”

“And if she thinks otherwise,” Bitter said, “again she may balk.”

“Let Firekeeper believe she coaxes the information from the wolves. If Dark Death offers to guide her, all to the good. If he does not, make certain some other puts her on a clear trail.”

“You give orders I cannot assure will be obeyed,” Bitter protested.

“It is a jaguar year,” Truth said confidently. “Fire will drive them on. I am sure of this.”

“Pray then,” Bitter said, and without further comment took to the air, “for Fire’s help clearing the way.”

As Bitter moved out of sight, Truth heard the glad cries of the raven’s rather silly mate. Lovable had come by earlier, dangling a bit of jewelry from a thong about her neck. She had not stayed through Bitter’s report, but had gone to show off her prize to her friends. The. jaguar seriously wondered about those species that mated for life. It seemed a form of insanity.

Sleepy now, as if she had been divining rather than merely reporting divinations, Truth curled into a ball, part in sunlight, part in shade, even as her fur was part of each.

“Divine Fire,” the jaguar prayed, “guide my dreams. Give me true visions. Take from me the confusion in my mind. Burn away the evil that I fear is stalking us. Make of Firekeeper a light to illuminate those dangers we can hardly see, never hear until the moment when they fall upon us and begin to bite and rend.”

For when the leap was made, the fangs sunk into the flesh, as the jaguar knew all too well, it would be too late.

XXIII

THEY HAD TALKED WELL INTO THE EVENING, what with Derian keeping thinking of things he wanted to tell Firekeeper about—including his new horse, Prahini—and Firekeeper telling him about the Wise Wolves. This often meant telling him about the Royal Wolves, since she had to keep explaining why the Wise Wolves were so different.

Derian and Harjeedian had ended up staying overnight at the outpost. Firekeeper had even gone in with them, since Derian had made the very sensible argument that if she was going to learn to write, why didn’t she memorize a few more symbols so she could send him complete messages?