Wolf Captured (59 page)

At long last, the injured ones were freed. Blind Seer had taken a blow to the head, probably from a falling rock. Firekeeper could feel no broken bones, but the blue-eyed wolf was weak and confused. Whenever he fell asleep, he had to be reminded upon waking where he was and what had happened.

Moon Frost’s broken leg was the worst of her injuries. She recalled feeling the ground going out under her and trying to leap. She had hit with legs extended and had felt one bone snap at the impact. Then she recalled nothing but the sensation of being buried alive.

Both wolves were lucky in that they had landed in such a fashion that their heads were not unduly close to the surrounding walls. Had they not, they would have probably suffocated under the wealth of dirt that had fallen with them.

Once she had finished doing what she could for the injured, Firekeeper rigged a torch and inspected their surroundings. They were not encouraging. The hole was very deep and still partially curtained above with fragments of vine. These grew along a few heavy beams that still stretched the breadth of the pit. She also discovered that much of what she had taken for slabs of stone were, in fact, tile.

“We are in a cellar,” Firekeeper said, settling next to the fire. “I think that the room above must have been floored in tile over wood. Whether it was broken before Blind Seer stepped on it or whether his weight was enough to break the weakened beams that held up the floor I cannot say.”

She paused and studied her surroundings once more.

“What I can say is that I’m not at all certain how we are going to get out of here.”

FOR SEVERAL DAYS FOLLOWING HIS RETURN from Misheemnekuru, Derian was permitted to entertain in hope that everything would remain unchanged. No one at u-Bishinti treated him any differently—or at least Varjuna didn’t, and Varjuna’s people took their lead from him.

Derian did his best to live up to Varjuna’s belief in him. He wasn’t much good at speeches, and, anyhow, Colby Carter had always said that it wasn’t the words that dribbled out of a man’s mouth that showed who he was, it was how long he spent settling in his horse after a long ride in bad weather.

Vernita had added that how promptly he paid his bills said something, too.

So despite the treasure of a fine horse and freedom to ride just about anywhere, Derian stayed near u-Bishinti. Unless it was absolutely necessary, he combined his language lessons with some other activity. Sometimes it was something as mundane as helping muck out the infinity of stalls. Other times he offered his assistance with whatever chores would normally have filled his student’s day. In this way Derian didn’t add to the students’ burdens but helped lighten them.

Particularly memorable was the night he spent helping walk a promising young filly who’d gotten into a barrel of apples and given herself a nasty attack of colic. Derian and Poshtuvanu stayed up all night, walking the filly back and forth, back and forth, eventually teaching each other the most creative obscenities either could come up with in either language.

They’d both been punch-drunk come morning, but the filly had pulled through, and Poshtuvanu claimed that he was starting to think in Pellish.

Had it not been for his awareness of how far away his family was and his worry about what Firekeeper might be up to off on Misheemnekuru, Derian would have been completely content.

Then came the morning that Derian rode up to the hill for his customary look at the Wise Horses and found Eshinarvash waiting for him.

Derian’s first reaction was to blush so deeply that he felt as if his hair might just crisp and fall right out of his head. Poshtuvanu had told him that only children spied on the Wise Horses, and now Derian had so pushed their patience that Eshinarvash had come to tell him off.

He slid from Prahini’s saddle and gripped the mare firmly by the reins. She was sidling back and forth, caught between her awareness that here was a stallion to end all stallions, and an uneasy awareness that though he might smell like a stallion and look like a stallion, Eshinarvash was something Else, something Other.

“Easy, girl, easy,” Derian murmured, tightening his grip.

The black-and-white paint rolled an eye and snorted, emphasizing whatever he meant with a stamp of one striped front hoof.

Prahini froze, then dropped her head. A few moments later, she was lipping at the grass in apparent unconcern.

“Well, that told her, didn’t it,” Derian said, speaking Liglimosh on the assumption that Eshinarvash would be more likely to understand it. “I’ve seen Firekeeper tell horses off. I bet you said something other than ‘Be good or my friend and I will eat you.’”

Eshinarvash didn’t reply—nor did Derian expect him to do so.

“Is this about my coming up here?” Derian asked. “If so, I’m sorry. Poshtuvanu told me watching the Wise Horses was in bad taste, but I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as …”

He stopped speaking, for Eshinarvash was shaking his head. The gesture wasn’t too like a human head shake, but it was obvious what the stallion meant. Happily, the Liglimom used the same gestures for “yes” and “no” as did the Hawk Havenese, and Derian figured the Wise Horse—like Blind Seer—had learned these gestures to facilitate his communication with humans.

“Not that then,” Derian said, thinking aloud. “What then …”

Eshinarvash’s ears flicked back, just for a moment, but enough to indicate that he was annoyed.

Almost too late, Derian remembered the respect in which the Liglimom held the yarimaimalom. He was in awe of the Wise Horses, but not overwhelmingly so. Moreover, his reaction to Wise—or Royal—Beasts had been colored by Firekeeper’s relationship with Blind Seer. Clearly she adored the wolf, but she didn’t worship him. These Liglimom, though, how they felt came pretty close … .

“How may I be of service?” Derian asked, giving the words the most formal inflection he could.

Eshinarvash cupped his ears forward, then shook his mane and raised his head, pointed up and slightly northward with his nose. For the first time, Derian noticed the osprey perched on a tree branch. From its size and composure, it was obviously Wise.

“Another message from Firekeeper?” Derian guessed.

Eshinarvash shook his skin in frustration; then he knelt as he had the one time he offered Derian a ride.

“You want me to come somewhere with you,” Derian said. “What should I do about Prahini? Varjuna will worry if she just comes back and I’m missing.”

Eshinarvash looked over his shoulder, renewing his invitation. Derian made a quick decision.

“Wait just a moment.”

He went to his saddlebags and removed some of the notepaper he carried with him in case something came up that would assist him in his teaching. On this, he scrawled a quick note.

Varjuna,

I have been called away by Eshinarvash. My tack is up on the hill west of u-Bishinti where I take my morning ride. If you could, have someone retrieve it. If Prahini doesn’t make it back to the stables on her own, please have someone look for her.

I wish I could say more, but Eshinarvash isn’t a great conversationalist.

Derian made two copies of this unsatisfactory missive and tied one into Prahini’s mane. Then he quickly unsaddled and unbridled the mare, putting the tack on the ground in the shade of a small tree. He hoped it wouldn’t get ruined. It was just about the nicest set he’d ever had. Then he slapped the mare on her rump.

“Go on with you,” he said. “Back to the stables and breakfast.”

Prahini stared at him in confusion and astonishment, but when Eshinarvash rose and did another round of the wicker-and-stamp routine, the mare fled at a speed that made Derian fear for her legs.

Derian looked between the Wise Osprey and Eshinarvash.

“Now, I’m not going anywhere without at least trying to send this to Varjuna. Will you carry it to him, Mister Fish Eagle? He’s the ikidisdu of the Horse. If you don’t know him, I’m sure Eshinarvash can tell you what you need to know. All I’m telling you is that I’m not going anywhere if it will leave my hosts to worry.”

Derian was feeling manic and a little light-headed. He kept expecting someone to leap out of the shrubbery and laugh at him for falling for such a trick, but no one appeared. What did happen was that the fish eagle gave a few flaps of his wings and glided rather than flew over near Derian.

Derian secured the note to the osprey’s leg, glad for the practice he’d had handling raptors when Edlin Norwood had insisted on taking him hawking during the winters he’d spent in the North Woods. He was gladder still for his friendship with another Royal Raptor, the peregrine falcon Elation. The former might have given him some skill in tying things onto bird’s legs, but the latter gave him the confidence he needed to bring his fingers near that deadly beak and those punishing talons.

“Right,” Derian said when he was finished. “My thanks to you, Mister Fish Eagle. Now, Eshinarvash, I am yours to command.”

The Wise Horse knelt again, and within moments Derian was astride the broad back, hoping he would keep his seat without saddle or stirrups.

The osprey departed in a blur of wings and shrill shriek. Eshinarvash rose, and began picking his way down the hillside, into the lands given as a preserve solely for the use of the yarimaimalom.

I’m in for it this time.
Derian thought.
First Misheemnekuru, now this.

Then Eshinarvash was shifting from a walk into a canter, then into a powerful gallop. Wind ripping through his hair and making his eyes tear, Derian could focus on nothing more complicated than keeping his seat.

XXV

THE DENIZENS OF THE TEMPLE of the Cold Bloods had not anticipated that the release of the shipwrecked sailors would mean their corridors would be receiving regular visits from the northerners. Although Rarby and Shelby professed to be disgusted by the proliferation of reptiles, they did not stay entirely away. The sight of Nolan, Tedgewinn, and Elwyn became so familiar that whoever was on door duty would send a runner to Barnet’s quarters as soon as they were seen approaching.

Sometimes the sailors came together, sometimes singly. Rahniseeta, asked by the iaridisdu of the temple to make certain none of the visitors did anything sacrilegious or offensive, quickly caught onto what to expect from each visitor. Nolan had taken seriously the concerns about his health and found the arduous walk up the hill a good constitutional—especially since he could get in a long rest at the top.

Wiatt came more often than Tedgewinn, but both came for the same reason. They wanted to learn what they could about the Liglimom and their culture in order to advance their own prospects. Both had skills to offer—one as a cook, the other as a carver—but lacked comfort with the different culture and trusted the minstrel’s instincts.

Rahniseeta found it interesting that Wiatt and Tedgewinn preferred to ask Barnet’s advice rather than Wain Endbrook’s—especially since Wain was a prosperous merchant. She wondered how much of their profit had he requested in return for his advice.

Elwyn—who seemed to be called “Lucky” as often as by his proper name—simply was a social soul who enjoyed visiting Barnet, and was honestly worried that the minstrel might be lonely. He was the most frequent caller, and for all that his flat-footed awkwardness should have led to disaster after disaster, he alone never touched the wrong thing or turned into a restricted area. Rahniseeta began to believe that he was indeed blessed with luck by the deities.

She was embarrassed to realize that Shelby and Rarby came as much to see her as to see Barnet. For all his surface roughness, Shelby proved to have a streak of romance. A few times he borrowed one of Barnet’s guitars and sang. His voice was neither good nor bad, but the subjects of his songs were so sentimental that Rahniseeta found herself blushing.

Rarby’s attentions were cruder. He rarely said anything, only stared as if he might see right through her clothing if he tried. Despite the ikidisdu’s request, Rahniseeta found herself avoiding Barnet’s suite on the occasions the brothers came calling. Happily, they were the least likely of the lot to make the climb to Heeranenahalm.

If she was in when the other sailors called, Rahniseeta asked the doorkeeper to notify her. If she wasn’t in, the doorkeeper was instructed to make certain someone brought refreshments—anything to keep the foreigners from being given an excuse to wander the temple. Guards could not be assigned, but if servants “just happened” to be in the vicinity of Barnet’s suite when he had visitors, so much the better.

Even within the Temple of the Cold Bloods, which continued to present a veneer of uniform support for what was coming to be called “Tiridanti’s Venture”—as if all of u-Liall had not fully supported sending Fayonejunjal forth—factions were forming.

“They are much the same as those put forth more publicly,” Harjeedian said to Rahniseeta. “There are those who long for the ability to speak directly with the beasts, those who fear it and wish such study to be banned, those who dread seeing Lady Blysse elevated and the Five transformed to the Six. There’s a new faction forming as well.”