Wolf Captured (57 page)

Barnet interrupted quickly by strumming a chord on his guitar.

“Here. I’ll play it for you. First the familiar way, then how I’ve adapted it.”

Waln watched the men’s faces as they settled into the familiar ritual of letting Barnet entertain them. Contentment was the dominant emotion, though Waln caught Shelby sneaking a glance or three at Rahniseeta.

Guess he’s forgetting the girl back home who broke his heart fast enough, Wain thought. Better be careful how I use that.

Tedgewinn had pulled a small block of hardwood from one pocket and his whittling knife from another. Hands fell to work shaping out what looked as if it might be a lizard, the sharpened blade cutting into the wood almost as if unguided, the carver’s foot tapping along with the music, his lips shaping the lyrics.

After Barnet and Rahniseeta had finished their performance, Shelby and Rarby agitated for some dancing music. Most of the sailors were good dancers, but their figures bore only the slightest of resemblances to the elegant line dances favored in the cities. Although there was a similar interplay between partners, there was no flirtation, and the action was vigorous—almost combative—when compared with the formal styles.

Barnet switched to a flute for this, while Rahniseeta took up the guitar and chorded improvised—and slightly odd to Wain’s ear—accompaniment. None of the sailors minded, and soon the little courtyard was crowded with the stamp of booted feet and loud laughter.

Wain took part, but when a break came, he excused himself. He had other things to do than idle about dancing. There were maps available for anyone’s use in a library shared by the various temples. He thought he’d go take a look. There must be some of Misheemnekuru showing the location of various buildings. Time to start thinking about his target.

He wanted a place where hopefully more than one building remained standing. His sailors would balk at clearing away too much rock. Then too he wanted a place away from the shore, especially the western shore that faced the mainland. They’d be spotted too easily there. Best follow one of the waterways in a bit—even if that was forbidden turf.

Wain fully expected the yarimaimalom to show their displeasure, but he didn’t intend to go unarmed. A few shots from a crossbow in the hands of humans who didn’t share the prevalent awe of the beasts, and the Beasties would be deciding to let the humans be, especially since the humans would not be staying. Wain planned to tell the yarimaimalom so; he’d been working out the speech in Liglimosh.

Even if the Beasts decided to fight, the sailors were good with crossbows, and most could handle a longbow as well. Rarby and Shelby had done time on a whaler, and were dab hands with a harpoon. Wain figured that if they were going to acquire a vessel capable of taking them all the way back to the Isles, they’d be able to acquire weapons as well. He’d just tell Shivadtmon or whoever about the threat of pirates once they got farther north.

But that would wait. First he needed to study some maps.

The librarian on duty didn’t question Waln’s _ request. Wain had been all prepared to tell the librarian it had something to do with his teaching duties, and was actually disappointed to find the excuse wasted. The man even helped Wain carry the maps over to a secluded table where a big window provided ample light.

Wain unrolled several so a casual observer wouldn’t be sure what he was looking at. Then he pulled out his dictionary and notebook.

First, someplace not too visible from shore. Next, someplace that listed a cluster of buildings. Wain found himself humming quietly to himself as he worked.

“‘Bang! Down came the whale’s tail, shattering the deck …’”

XXIV

EVEN KNOWING THAT MISHEEMNEKURU was made up of a cluster of islands hadn’t prepared Firekeeper for the amount of swimming that would be involved in getting from the island where they had first arrived to their destination.

Wolves can be strong swimmers when the situation requires. However, neither Firekeeper nor Blind Seer had done much more swimming than was required for crossing small rivers or cooling off in lakes. Fortunately, the route Dark Death chose did not require them to swim any distance longer than they would have undertaken by choice.

What was odd about this swimming was how strongly the water tasted of salt, and the peculiar, persistent tugging of the current. Then there were the amazing things the tides did to the shoreline. Many times they were forced to wait until the waters lowered and gave them grudging passage between sections of the archipelago.

“Why do the ocean waters rise and fall like this?” Firekeeper asked during one such wait. “Often I have heard sailors talk about the need to wait on the tide, but never before this have I understood why.”

“It is the doing of my namesake, the Moon,” Moon Frost replied. “You have heard how she is the child of Water. Even now she calls to her father to make her whole. When she cries loudest, then he reaches to her and the waters recede.”

Firekeeper wanted to snort in disbelief, but already she knew this would be more than merely impolite. It would offend. Therefore she asked another question, hoping to turn away from these explanations based on the almost comprehensible actions of divine forces.

“Is Misheemnekuru then all one land?” Firekeeper asked. “If the tide was low enough, would the divisions between the islands vanish?”

“No,” Dark Death replied. “Some of the islands are far enough apart that they always remain separated from the whole. In the interior, though, this may be the case. When the waters drop, walking between the islands is like walking through valleys to reach the opposite hill. Except in the seasons of storm most of the animals can swim between the major pieces of land. The outer islands become nesting places for the birds and seals. It works out quite well for all.”

“Well for all of us,” Firekeeper agreed, finger-combing out the tangles in her drying hair. “Swimming in this salt water leaves my skin feeling tight, but at least my stomach remains my friend.”

Blind Seer panted laughter. Firekeeper knew he was thinking about their eventual journey home and how there must come a time when she would commit herself once more to the discomfort of a shipboard voyage. However, it was easy for her not to think about such distant events. Too many interesting thoughts crowded all but the immediate present from her mind.

“I notice,” she said, removing her Fang from its Mouth and scrupulously cleaning off every drop of water, “that as we move farther away from the edges where the ocean beats, we see more signs of the humans who once lived here. From what Blind Seer and I had seen, I had thought they dwelt on these islands in scant numbers, but now I see this is not true.”

Dark Death rose and waded into the inlet, testing the depth.

“Not yet shallow enough,” he said, then shook the water from his coat. “From what I have been told the humans never clustered as thickly on Misheemnekuru as they do now in u-Seeheera. These islands were where the great and powerful made their dwellings. However, many lesser ones lived here as well.”

Firekeeper weighed this against what she had learned about how the powerful among humankind lived.

“From what I have seen elsewhere,” she said, a hint of scorn in her voice, “among humans those who have nothing must do everything for themselves, but those who have wealth or power are waited on as if they were nursing mothers or young pups. In a wolf pack, the Ones lead and take their share. They give the most and so get the most.”

Blind Seer snorted.

“Firekeeper, you make the matter too simple. From what I have seen, sometimes there is good reason for the fashion in which humans organize their packs. Do you think that King Tedric could find hours enough in both day and night to do all that he must do to keep his kingdom running smoothly if he must also cook his own meals or keep his own lair fresh?”

Firekeeper immediately knew Blind Seer was correct, though she felt curiously uncomfortable at this realization. After a moment she realized why. Blind Seer had frequently chastened her when she had overstated the superiority of the wolf way over that followed by humans. However, this was the first time that others had witnessed her chastisement. She resented it, but knew she could not fail to acknowledge his point without opening herself to even greater criticism.

“I suppose a king’s hunts are different hunts,” she replied a trace sullenly, “his kills different kills.” She brightened then, having thought of something that would save her from completely conceding. “Still, you must admit that many of those humans who are waited upon do nothing to earn this privilege.”

“There are many idle ones among the nobility,” Blind Seer agreed, without any sense of having been shamed. “But you spoke of how the Ones earn their privileges by leading. All I wished to clarify was that the human Ones worked for their keep, even if it might not seem so to a casual observer.”

“I have never lived among humans,” Moon Frost said. “How do these do-nothing-get-everythings exert their will?”

Firekeeper and Blind Seer went on to explain about money, inheritance, and titles. The wolf-woman had the feeling that their explanations were less than completely successful. Neither Dark Death nor Moon Frost had gone among humans, and the human culture they did know placed less weight on inheritance than on divine selection.

As they struggled to answer the Wise Wolves’ questions, Firekeeper realized that Blind Seer actually had a better grasp of the intricacies of human culture than she did, for all that she was human born and he was not. While she had mostly been content to superimpose the order and rules she had learned from the wolves onto the various human cultures they had encountered, the blue-eyed wolf had attempted to learn some of the reasons—or at least rationalizations—be—hind the customs practiced by the humans.

The discussion filled long hours of running after they had swum across the inlet, and continued during the rest that filled the heat of the afternoon.

“It seems to me,” Moon Frost said, “that much of your northern humans’ strange behavior must come from their having no knowledge of the deities. Instead they set their own families up as little deities. They then pile up wealth in worship of these deities.”

“That is too simple,” Blind Seer protested. “Wealth is the means for meat and drink for these human packs. Moreover, they seek to emulate the best qualities of their ancestors—to live up to their heritage.”

Moon Frost was not convinced.

“As I see the situation, each lineage can only be as strong or as weak as those who came before them. From what you have said, it seems that many of these families weaken over time as they accumulate useless members who draw on the family for support, but give nothing in return.”

Firekeeper didn’t know how to answer this. She herself had yet to understand why someone graced with nothing more than a title should automatically be considered the better of someone like Derian. On the other hand, she felt a desire to defend the people of Hawk Haven and Bright Bay. No matter how confusing they were, they were the stock from which she had been bred.

And who would I put in my ancestors’ shrine? she asked herself. Prince Barden and Sweet Eirene? Someone else whose face and voice I cannot recall? Dry bones all.

Yet Firekeeper felt uncomfortable with this dismissal. She was greatly relieved when Blind Seer responded directly to Moon Frost’s comment.

“I know nothing of deities, and only a little more of those who worship them, but it seems to me that belief in deities could be as restrictive as trust in ancestors. Where your system is very strong is that in addition to old lore there is a constant flow of new lore—these omens and divinations in which humans and beasts alike place such trust. What will happen if trust in those is lost?”

Moon Frost replied with confidence. “Trust will not be lost. The deities will guide us through even this difficult time.”

Dark Death rose and shook the bracken from his fur.

“The worst of the heat is gone. Let us continue. Would you hunt now or when it is cooler?”

“As the trail brings us game,” Firekeeper replied. She knew the question applied to her. The wolves ate more heavily with each meal and consequently could go longer without eating. “Will we come to another place where we must wait before swimming across?”

“Likely so. Moon’s face is coming full.”

“If something does not strike our trail before, then,” Firekeeper said. “I can always fish or forage then. Summer brings many opportunities.”

Although the trail was not completely without opportunities for foraging, especially in the form of berries and early summer fruit, Firekeeper was ravenous by the time they reached their next stopping point. She was not so hungry, however, that she failed to carefully examine their surroundings.

“Humans lived here once,” she said, knowing from past inspections what lay beneath the tangled vines and clusters of young trees. Here the vines were predominantly honeysuckle, which granted the cooler night air a delicious perfume.

“Many humans,” Dark Death replied. “We are nearing the central island, and that was a place where many humans lived.”