Wolf Captured (55 page)

Firekeeper had drawn the line at sleeping at the outpost, what with the night so warm and lovely. She’d awakened early and seen Derian off at the dock, promising him that she would find some way to keep in touch.

Then she and Blind Seer had started running back to the meeting meadows, and every beat of her foot contained a syllable of the same wonderful word: Mai-mal-o-da-lu. Beast-souled. Humans who could take the shape of animals. Animals who could take the shape of humans.

Firekeeper would ask Neck Breaker and Cricket if they knew of any such stories. If they did not, then she would try and dismiss the maimalodalu as one of those crazy stories humans told, but if the Wise Wolves did know something …

Mai-ma-lo-da-lu. Beast-souled. Humans who could be animals … .

She had heard such legends before, but never from a source that spoke with anything like authority. There had been that ring in New Kelvin. Stories Queen Elexa had told her. Dragons had proven to be true—even if nothing like the stories. Mai-ma-lo-da-lu.

Firekeeper didn’t talk about the beast-souled to Blind Seer. She didn’t need to. He knew better than most her frustration regarding her wolf’s heart and human form. Sometimes she wondered if he shared her frustration. She’d never asked. It would be rude to ask the wolf if he’d like her better if she were really a wolf—and it would force issues she didn’t want to even talk about.

It would be even ruder to ask Blind Seer if he ever wished he were a human. She’d heard Doc say once something about a time when Blind Seer must have been wishing he had hands. She thought she might miss her own hands, but if giving up hands was the price she had to pay for being a wolf, she’d pay it gladly.

There would be compensations … . Firekeeper glanced over at the blue-eyed wolf who ran sometimes beside her, sometimes in front of her, sometimes behind her—always with her.

THEY ARRIVED AT THE MEETING MEADOWS a day and a half later to find the air smelling of departures. Two of the packs had already returned to their home territories, but that of Hard Biter and Tangler remained, as did the one to which Cricket belonged. Dark Death was also there, as handsome and dominating as ever.

Firekeeper experienced a wash of awkward shyness she had never before felt when in the presence of wolves. This wasn’t the familiar sensation of being part-blind that she always felt in the company of these who “saw” as much with their sense of smell as with their eyes, nor was it the newer sensation of being demoted to a very junior status after being treated with admiration—and even awe—by humans.

This was something completely beyond her experience. For the first time she understood Derian’s discomfort at being accepted almost as an equal by the nobility. Before the day King Tedric had made Derian a king’s counselor, Derian had been a young man of good family and even of fortune, but for all this he had been viewed as one who served rather than one who ruled. With the visible sign of King Tedric’s favor, a few blocks from that invisible wall had been removed and Derian had been granted the right to step across the wall, to advise his superiors as if he was one of them.

Now the story of the maimalodalum had given Firekeeper the means to lower the wall that separated her from those she loved best—and she found herself trembling in both anticipation and sudden, unexpected fear.

Blind Seer bumped his head against her.

“You’ve frozen like a rabbit who hears the eagle’s scream,” he said. “Have we run all this way only to turn around in the end?”

Firekeeper shook—not just her head as a human would, but her body as well, as a wolf shakes off shedding fur.

“Wise as ever, sweet hunter,” she said. “Do I reek of tear?”

“Only to a nose that knows you well,” Blind Seer assured her. “The ripest scent blends eagerness and excitement.”

That relaxed Firekeeper some. She strode toward the gathered wolves, her head high and her hand just touching Blind Seer’s fur.

“You have made a swift trail of it,” Tangler greeted them approvingly. “We thought we might meet you along the trail back to our hunting grounds.”

“I am glad to have arrived before the dispersal was complete,” Firekeeper replied politely. “I am only sorry we didn’t get to give our thanks to the other packs. I, at least, learned much from them.”

“And I,” Blind Seer agreed, “did as well.”

“They will hear your thanks in the moon song,” Hard Biter assured them. “Was your visit with your fox-furred friend pleasant?”

“Very,” Firekeeper assured them. “He told me much of what is happening on the mainland. Not all of it makes sense to one such as myself, but I have struggled to hold it in my head so that I might ask for your advice and clarification.”

The gathered packs were now returning to the relaxation that usually occupied the wolves during the heat of the afternoon. All the adults, however, seemed interested in hearing what Firekeeper and Blind Seer had to say. The new arrivals took comfortable places in the shade, and Firekeeper tried to decide where to begin. She wanted to launch immediately into the tale of the maimalodalum, but thought this might be starting the prey before she had closed to a distance where she could make a kill.

“Why not,” Blind Seer said, obviously running along a similar trail as herself, “begin with telling them of the changes in the mood of the human herd? These are many and confusing, but these wise ones, so much more accustomed to how their humans think, may be able to untangle them for us.”

So Firekeeper began, starting with the mixture of fear and anticipation that greeted her ability to speak with the beasts, and moving to the complications that were evolving among various factions. Blind Seer helped her, and between them she thought they were making a fairly clear report of the twisted mess.

Once or twice, Firekeeper thought she detected a motion from one or the other of the listeners that indicated that what she and Blind Seer had to report was not wholly new to their listeners.

These wolves have allies among the wingéd folk, even as my home pack does. Firekeeper thought. Doubtless they have been offered some small bites and wait to see how what Derian knows of these events compares in flavor and texture.

Therefore, although the wolf-woman longed to reach what to her was the matter of real interest, Firekeeper went on, knowing that snappishness would garner her no respect among these hunters. When she had finished, the Wise Wolves seemed thoughtful, but not startled.

“It is easy to see why you value your fox-haired friend,” Neck Breaker said. “He has taken great risks to make certain you will be safe from those who fear or resent you.”

“Risks?” Firekeeper asked, dismissing any danger to herself as stale scent. “Derian?”

“There will be many who will resent his being permitted to come to Misheemnekuru.”

“But he abided by the law. He did not leave the human areas!”

“Even those areas are considered places of privilege by the humans. Of all those who train to become disdum, only a small amount are granted the opportunity to train at the outpost.”

“Such restrictions must be made’” explained Half-Snarl, the One Female of the pack to which Cricket belonged. “Otherwise we should be overwhelmed with humans. Since the number who may come here is limited, the humans have made it a posting of honor.” “I think,” said Moon Frost, “that making it an honor is a way for the humans to assure that those who are sent to the outpost do not chafe at the restrictions. Might that not be so, Firekeeper?”

It was the first time Moon Frost had spoken to Firekeeper since their battle without having been spoken to first. Firekeeper checked the cant of the wolf’s ears and the speed of her breathing for any indication of challenge, but found none—unless this assumption that Firekeeper would know how humans would react to any circumstance could be seen as a challenge to Firekeeper’s wolfishness. The wolf-woman chose not to see it as such.

“I think you may be right, Moon Frost,” Firekeeper replied. “For all that humans build enormous stone dens, I have met few who like the idea of being locked within them. They honor their freedom, even if they do little with it.”

“Freedom not to do,” Neck Breaker said, “is a freedom in itself. Are these arguments over doctrine and procedure all your friend had to tell you about?”

Firekeeper hesitated, uncertain now that an opening had been given that she could speak of the maimalodalum without revealing the tremendous desire that pushed like a physical ache within her breast.

“Derian told us he has been given a new horse,” she offered. “This is good, for there was tremendous anger in him at the killing of his mare, Roanne.”

Blind Seer picked up the trail when Firekeeper hesitated.

“In telling us of this new horse, Derian also told us an interesting tale. It seems that one of the humans—Rahniseeta, sister of Harjeedian—learned that Derian belongs to the Horse Society.”

There was a general head-tilting of puzzlement, and Blind Seer explained, “These societies are common in the human lands from which we have come. They are something like the temples here, but without the connection to deities: each is instead associated with a specific animal.”

“And one of these animals is the horse, then?” Neck Breaker asked.

“That is so,” Blind Seer agreed. “The horses are not worshipped, but they are admired and the humans seek to emulate their better traits: support of the herd, responsible leadership by those who lead, faithful following by those who follow, that sort of thing.”

Firekeeper was amazed at all Blind Seer knew. She’d never bothered to learn much about the societies. Wendee Jay, who belonged to the Wolf Society, had asked Firekeeper about wolf ways and compared the reality to the ideal her society espoused. This had taught Firekeeper something, but Blind Seer had made an effort to learn much more.

Rascal asked eagerly, “Do the humans in this Horse Society eat grass, then? That’s one of the things horses do best.”

Blind Seer thumped his tail in amusement.

“I don’t think so, Rascal. They emulate an ideal, not imitate the real.”

“But what does this have to do with Derian?” Cricket asked.

Firekeeper sensed in Cricket some of the same impatience the old wolf had expressed when Grey Thunder was telling the sad tale of the long-ago attempt to breed for specific talents. Again Firekeeper wondered just how much these wolves already had been told. The thought that she and Blind Seer might be sneaking up on game that already knew they were coming did not make her bolder.

Blind Seer, however, seemed perfectly at ease.

“It seems that Rahniseeta added the knowledge that Derian belonged to the Horse Society to things she already knew about him—that he has a talent for working with horses, that Eshinarvash the Wise Horse granted him a ride on his back, that Derian’s slain mare had hair similar in shade to Derian’s own, even that he was friends with Firekeeper and myself. She drew a conclusion that to her fit the facts.”

“What?” asked Rascal.

As certainly as if I walk on two legs,
Firekeeper thought,
if there has been information brought from elsewhere, it has not been shared with all. The yearling pants along the trail.

“Rahniseeta concluded,” Firekeeper said, accepting Blind Seer’s silent invitation that she take a share in the narration, “that Derian must be one of what she called the maimalodalum. Derian says the word means something like ‘beast-souled.’ He says it refers to humans who could, by means of sorcery, take on the shape and senses of a beast.”

There. It was said. Would the Wise Wolves force her to ask the next question—to ask if there was any truth in this tale? They did not, and their answer made her nearly tremble with joy.

“Is he then maimalodalu?” Neck Breaker asked. “I had thought the art of taking another’s shape belonged to the Old Country that came here, but not to any other.”

“I thought Derian’s people abhorred magic,” Cricket snapped. “Is this not true? How could he be both maimalodalu and hate magic? The one goes with the other as marrow fills a bone.”

“Derian is not maimalodalu,” Firekeeper said, her heart singing in her. “He does have a talent for horses—though I think he is unaware of this—but otherwise he is as human as human can be.”

“Are you saying,” Blind Seer asked, “that these maimalodalum actually exist?”

“They have existed’” Hard Biter said. He looked off into the distance. “They have. As Cricket said, the taking of another’s form was achieved by magic—human magic.”

“Rahniseeta told Derian there was a token,” Firekeeper said eagerly. “A token worn or carried by the maimalodalu that enabled the change.”

“That’s right,” Hard Biter agreed. “So it is said.”

Firekeeper stiffened, scenting evasion.

“Are there any maimalodalum remaining?”

To her surprise, Dark Death, silent as a night dark shadow to this point, rose and shook.

“The ones who can answer those questions are not here, Firekeeper.”

“Where are they?”

“They live on islands further within Misheemnekuru,” Dark Death replied. “They are members of the pack that gave me birth. I went from them seeking a mate. I could guide you back.”

“Me and Blind Seer,” Firekeeper said firmly, though Dark Death’s inflection made clear he had meant her alone. That she could be alone with another wolf was somehow a heady thought.

“By all means, Blind Seer, too,” Dark Death replied. “He is a strong hunter and your close kin as well.”

Firekeeper recalled that the Wise Wolves cared not to breed close kin, but shrugged this aside. Whatever else bound them, she and Blind Seer were not literally born of the same parents.

“Anyone else wish to run with us?” Dark Death asked. “It is a long trail, but a fair one.”

Moon Frost rose. “I will go, if my pack can spare me.”

“This is the easy hunting time,” Tangier assured her. “Go. Howl your news home. That is the only hold we put upon you.”

Moon Frost assented with a wag of her tail.

“I will tell you what I see and do,” she promised. “If I cannot help feed the puppies’ bodies, I can feed their minds.”