Wolf Captured (72 page)

Rahniseeta had the impression that Derian was torn between renewed homesickness and anticipation of the pleasure he would bring to his family as he related tales of yet another fantastic land.

She remembered Harjeedian’s telling her that some factions were agitating to have the northerners not merely imprisoned or sent back where they had come from, but killed.

We will not permit that
. Rahniseeta thought fiercely.
No matter how eloquently the disdum speak of omens and revelations, Derian, Lady Blysse, and Blind Seer were taken from their homeland by force. I have no idea why they haven’t escaped. Perhaps it is because they have nowhere to run? Perhaps because we have entangled them in our affairs?

She was startled from her thoughts by Derian laying a hand on her arm and pulling her back into one of the many narrow streets that bordered the market.

“Sorry,” he apologized in a low voice, “but I’ll not speak with that man. If we stay here a moment, we can avoid him. He seems pretty engrossed in whatever he’s discussing with his companion.”

Rahniseeta looked in the direction Derian indicated with a stiff toss of his head and saw Wain Endbrook walking along with one of the aridisdu from the Temple of Sea Beasts. She struggled for a moment to remember his name, then had it. Shivadtmon. Harjeedian had mentioned him in connection with the selection of the disdu for the voyage of
Fayonejunjal.

“I’d prefer not to see them, either,” she admitted, leading the way into a weaver’s shop, where the two men were unlikely to come by chance. “Waln makes me uncomfortable, and Shivadtmon dislikes Harjeedian.”

Judging by the look on Derian’s face, he wouldn’t cut anyone off his social calendar just for disliking Harjeedian.

He said almost as much aloud.

“Well, I can’t say anything about liking or disliking Harjeedian, but anyone who will get that chummy with Waln Endbrook is either a fool or playing some game.”

“What do you mean?” Rahniseeta said, turning over a swatch of tightly woven wool cloth dyed a soft jade green.

“I mean Waln Endbrook is as nasty a bit of goods as there is,” Derian said, his voice tight with the anger he was trying hard not to show. “He sold us, didn’t he? Would u-Liall have gone after Firekeeper if Wain hadn’t come telling tales of wonder? That’s not the worst he’s done either. Waln Endbrook didn’t get what he wanted from that gambit, but that won’t stop him from trying another.”

There was such a hard, angry light in the young man’s hazel eyes that Rahniseeta feared to ask what else Waln Endbrook had done. She gave the shopkeeper a few tokens for some of the green cloth. By the time the transaction was completed Waln and Shivadtmon had gone off in the direction of the harbor.

“Well,” she said, “Shivadtmon is not a fool. One of the reasons he dislikes Harjeedian, is that he felt he should be given the berth as disdu on
Fayonejunjal.
Harjeedian won it, not only because of his skill with languages, but because many of the disdum felt that Water already had honor enough in supplying the ship, her captain, and much of her crew.”

Derian looked at her.

“Water did? As in the Temple of Water? I had the impression that this was Fire’s project.”

Rahniseeta could see Derian was no longer interested in shopping, so led the way into a pleasant park where they could sit and talk in relative privacy. She bought them chilled drinks from a vendor, and led the way to a bench surrounded by roses. Anyone watching them would think they were courting, not conspiring—or so she hoped.

“The project was begun under the aegis of Fire,” Rahniseeta said, “but Water is the patron of most things related to the sea. It only makes sense. Air has some say when sailing vessels are concerned, but Earth and Fire are distinctly in second place.”

“And Magic?” Derian asked. “Where does Magic fit in?”

“Magic is in a strange position,” Rahniseeta said. “We do not abhor her, as your people do, because it is her touch that enables us to communicate with the deities. However, sorcery carries with it the taint of the Old Country rulers. Therefore, though all acknowledge Magic, none practice her arts except to reach the divine.”

“I think I understand,” Derian said. “So, Shivadtmon doesn’t like Harjeedian because he thinks Harjeedian got his berth. This sounds awful, but is Shivadtmon associated with Dantarahma? I mean, other than their having started out in the same temple.”

Rahniseeta had been having similar thoughts, but they sounded somehow harsher and more final coming from Derian.

“He might be,” she said. “He well might. Harjeedian said the level of Shivadtmon’s disappointment at not being chosen was inordinate, ‘As if he had been promised the post in advance.’”

“I think,” Derian said slowly, “it would be very good if you could find out more about Shivadtmon. Even if he isn’t part of Dantarahma’s group, anger and resentment are good tools for getting people to do what you want.”

Rahniseeta nodded. “You are very right.”

Derian glanced up at the sky.

“I’ve a bit of a ride back to u-Bishinti,” he said. “May I walk you home?”

Rahniseeta blinked but found nothing forward in Derian’s expression, only kindness and courtesy.

“And if Barnet’s in, I can at least stop to say a few words,” Derian went on.

Rahniseeta wondered why this further proof of the young man’s good-mannered thoughtfulness should leave her feeling so very disappointed.

XXX

NOT ONE OF THE WOLVES asked Firekeeper about what had precipitated her flight when she and Blind Seer returned. Perhaps the blue-eyed wolf had taken advantage of leaving to hunt to give them some explanation. Perhaps the Wise Wolves respected her privacy—certainly they had secrets enough of their own. Whatever the reason, Firekeeper was grateful.

That the pack had already eaten was evident in the rounded bellies of the two puppies. These fought a mock battle over a strip of hide, invigorated, as were all their kind, by the cooler air of night and the exciting scents carried in the breezes off of the water.

Integrity came closest to prying into the reasons behind Firekeeper’s reactions, but even she was circumspect.

“We had thought you might not believe our tale,” Integrity said, “but it seems rather that you believed it all too well.”

“What you told me spoke to something deep within my heart,” Firekeeper replied. “Perhaps I knew all too well that something as wonderful as the ability to adopt another’s shape could not be had easily. Even more, I have seen some strange things these past two years. Tales of magic are not as strange to me as they would be to most northerners.”

“So Blind Seer has told us,” Integrity replied.

Integrity licked between the many toes of her deformed paw, and Firekeeper found herself wondering whether those members of the pack she had not yet seen also bore some stigmata. Were the Wise Wolves of this central island recruited from puppies such as she had seen in Grey Thunder’s pack? Was this island a home to those who could not be permitted even the chance of being seen by humans—but who were still treasured by their pack members?

But Integrity was speaking, and that demanded Firekeeper’s attention, for reason of good manners if nothing else.

“There are things we would show you,” Integrity said, “things that are intertwined with the maimalodalum. Will you look or would you prefer to rest further upon what you now know before …”

The One Female trailed off, and Firekeeper knew she was being offered an opportunity to further calm herself. Therefore, whatever it was Integrity and Tenacity wished to show her was likely to be upsetting.

The night before, Firekeeper had slept where she could reach out and touch Blind Seer; it would have been cruel to sleep as she so often did with her head pillowed on his flank in this damp, sticky heat. Her sleep had been dreamless, but several times she had shaken herself awake rather than let the dreams rise. Despite a growing sense of dread, Firekeeper knew what her answer must be.

“I am willing, Integrity, and I thank you for the honor. Am I right in guessing that these things which you are about to show us are among those things of which one does not speak?”

Integrity twitched her overlarge ears, almost as a human would have chuckled.

“See for yourself. Then tell me what you think.”

With that, Integrity rose, and her mate and pups rose with her. The pups seemed to have some idea where they were going, and took pleasure in it. For the first time, Firekeeper realized that Moon Frost and Dark Death were not present.

She asked after them and Tenacity replied, “Moon Frost’s broken leg was well set. No wolf could have done for her what you did. Even so, the injury is giving her pain. One of our pack has a talent for healing. Dark Death is arranging a meeting.”

Firekeeper grunted her thanks. She was just as glad not to have the others along. Moon Frost was positively humble these days, but there was threat lurking beneath her surrender. Wolves took advantage of weakness in their rivals, and Firekeeper knew how weakened she had been by the truth about the maimalodalum.

Dark Death was another matter. His changed attitude toward her had initially amused and pleased her, but having embraced her own feelings toward Blind Seer with greater honesty than ever before, Firekeeper realized that Dark Death’s admiration for her was a threat to Blind Seer.

These thoughts kept her from worrying about where they were going as they climbed the slope to where clustered stone towers blocked out the stars with their height. Blind Seer raised his head to better catch some errant scent, but made no other comment. Nor did the other wolves—who must have noticed the motion and its implicit question—offer anything in reply.

Firekeeper dropped one hand to her Fang, but did not draw it. She wondered if she should ask for the wolves to permit her to make a light. What good would it do to show her whatever it was by moonlight? Her night vision was far better than that of any human she had met, but even so …

She was about to ask Integrity to wait when a door swung open in the base of the centermost of the towers and warm golden light flooded out. It illuminated a long rectangle of paved courtyard in front of the door, and in that light Firekeeper pinned down something that had been bothering her.

The area here was too well maintained for ruins. Her feet had met none of the rolling crumbles of stone, or the unevenness caused by weeds and grass thrusting their way between slabs that she had subconsciously expected. The towers she had seen outlined against the sky showed no broken battlements, no collapsed roofs. The buildings had been maintained. Why would even the yarimaimalom bother to do that?

Firekeeper wanted to stop, wanted to grind in her heels and demand explanations, but the two puppies were running eagerly ahead. Neither of their watchful parents made any move to stop them, and so Firekeeper went toward the spreading light, trying very hard to remain unafraid.

Blind Seer pressed close to her.

“Odd smells,” he said softly, “but there is no tang here of fear or hate. Nor do the Wise Wolves smell of anything other than the mildest concern. Come along. Haven’t we fought our way out of worse?”

Firekeeper actually wasn’t sure that they had. Fighting their way out of things didn’t happen very often, and it always seemed that one of them ended up severely injured. Still, she understood the spirit of Blind Seer’s brag and resolved to live up to his confidence in her—or rather, to his confidence in them.

Puppies before them, Integrity and Tenacity behind, Firekeeper and Blind Seer walked through the golden-lit door. The portal was wide enough that they could pass through side by side, and Firekeeper wondered if the humans who had built the place had been larger than the humans today, or had only wished to give the impression that they were giants.

The room they entered was rounded, comprising the entire base of the tower. The only interruptions in the vast space were regularly spaced pillars whose purpose might have been to support the beams of the floor above, but which might have been purely ornamental. Even Firekeeper, usually indifferent to art as she was to most things that were not strictly useful, saw the beauty in the shaping of these columns and was impressed.

But even the elegant pillars with their fanciful shapes could not hold her attention beyond a flickering instant. Gathered at the far side of the large chamber, as if to emphasize by their position that they would not stand between their visitors and the door, were a doubled hand of the strangest creatures Firekeeper had ever seen.

Not one was a creature that Firekeeper could name, but in their making were elements she recognized. Horns like those on a bull. Feathers. Shining iridescent scales. Antlers that would have been the pride of any buck. Stripes identical to those running down the tail of a skunk.

Even in the clear light within the chamber Firekeeper could hardly make her eyes see sense. Not even the costumed creations of New Kelvin rivaled this lot for variety and strangeness. Those costumes mimicked monstrosities through the clever use of fabric or fur or tanned hides. These before her were living bodies that held within their shapes impossible combinations of form.