Wolf Captured (76 page)

Rahniseeta grinned. “Big Brother is quite pleased. He asked me to make certain the Temple of the Cold Bloods did not lose touch with you when you went to u-Bishinti. I told him quite roundly that I wouldn’t play his games—but this is my game and if he thinks I’ve repented and am being dutiful, all the better.”

Derian blinked at this convoluted but logical evaluation, and decided his pride could take it. After all, Rahniseeta had refused to play up to him just because Harjeedian told her to do so.

“Good,” Derian said. “I think. No, really. Good.”

He frowned, bit into a piece of buttered bread, and reorganized his thoughts.

“I was telling you about what Meiyal’s clerk has learned. Well, it seems that not only were there regular rituals to commemorate major events—harvest, the first sailing of the fishing fleet, that sort of thing—there were rituals for routine divination.”

Rahniseeta looked puzzled. “But that’s how it is today.”

“With one major difference,” Derian said. “You people don’t splatter blood all over the place for every one of these rituals. Before the treaty with the yarimaimalom it seems that practically no one did any rite without spilling at least a bit of blood. There’s a whole area outside of Heeranenahalm that’s now a nice little produce-and-flower market, but that Cishanol says once was where you went and bought your sacrificial animals. Common people had to settle for chickens or lambs, but the disdum were into wild animals—the harder to catch or more exotic the better, and if you could get a Wise Beast, well …”

Rahniseeta looked a bit sick, and put down her bread and honey. Derian decided he’d made his point.

“The thing is, Cishanol has had to wade through all of this to find what we need—the earlier sacrifices when lives were offered only on really important occasions. Cishanol’s smart, and he cross-referenced with dates hoping to find that white animals were offered at a particular season. Well, that led him astray, but eventually he got back on track.”

“Yes?”

“White animals were used for initiation,” Derian said. “It’s likely that what I saw was Dantarahma initiating a batch of new recruits. That means we have to be careful before eliminating someone who wasn’t there because we can’t be sure if the old hands were needed there.”

Rahniseeta, who had been about to raise the bread and honey again, set it down.

“This is terrible!” she said. “Who can we trust?”

“Our core group, so far,” Derian said. “We’ve all known for several days and no one has had an accident or a threatening letter or a mysterious summons from Dantarahma. We need to be careful, but on the other hand, I think it’s likely that at least most of Dantarahma’s acolytes were there. It stands to reason that his cult can’t be a large group or someone would have gotten wind of it already.”

“Fair,” Rahniseeta said, and this time she determinedly finished her slice of bread. “Anything else?”

“Cishanol has come up with the names of some possible members of Dantarahma’s cult. I had to write them down because my accent’s not good enough that I might not accuse the wrong person by saying ‘puh’ for ‘buh’ or something like that. Meiyal said very seriously that you were to read, memorize, and destroy the list.”

With due solemnity, Derian handed over the slip he’d hidden in his wallet. Rahniseeta read it. Her eyebrows shot up once; then, after scanning the list several more times, she tore the paper into tiny scraps of confetti and dropped them into the dregs of her glass of water.

“That should make them unreadable,” she said, watching as the ink muddied the water. “However, I shall need to switch to wine.”

“Seemed like you knew at least one of the names,” Derian said.

“I came across the third one down when I was asking in the markets after white calves. It seems he had been making similar inquiries not long ago. As he is a member of the Temple of Flyers, this raised some comment. I presented myself as on a similar shopping expedition, and was asked what the Temple of Flyers and Temple of the Cold Bloods needed white calves for. I had an excuse ready having to do with a request from a farmer who gathers wild specimens for us. Apparently, this fellow was less subtle. He told the drover to mind his own business.”

“Guaranteeing,” Derian said, “that his business would never be forgotten. What an idiot.”

“That’s why I was ready to discount the story, but his name appearing on this list does make me wonder.”

“I’ll pass on the information,” Derian said, “or rather Poshtuvanu will. I’m reporting to him, and he’s going to relay to the Temple of the Horse. I hadn’t been in the habit of visiting there too often, but he regularly makes the run.”

“We are being careful,” Rahniseeta said amused, “but then we know we may be checked after. They thought no one knew they existed.”

“Makes all the difference,” Derian agreed. “What else do you have?”

Rahniseeta pretended to look affronted. “Isn’t that about the calf enough?”

Derian only grinned. “I’ll pour the wine. You talk.”

She did, reporting rather less success in her quests after white dogs, especially since she hadn’t wanted to be too obvious. She’d also had an opportunity to sneak a look at Dantarahma’s schedule of appointments.

“It isn’t that hard, really,” she said, when Derian expressed surprise. “Each of u-Liall has an enormous slate board on which their appointments for weeks in advance are listed. I simply waited until no one was there and made a list of the names. There are a few interesting repetitions. I made a list with notes as to which ones are interesting and why. Do I give it to you or do you memorize it?”

“I’d better pass it to Poshtuvanu,” Derian said. “This is more than I can keep straight, especially the explanations.”

“It will make more sense to Meiyal or Varjuna,” Rahniseeta assured him. “They know what’s usual—a member of u-Liall is simply a glorified iaridisdu/ikidisdu, after all.”

“If you say so,” Derian said. “I wish we could simply all meet and discuss these things, but as Meiyal said, even if no one guessed the truth, conspiracy would be suspected.”

Rahniseeta nodded.

“My last item of interest is out there on the bay,” she said.

She pointed, and Derian looked along the line of her arm.

“That little boat?” he said, impulsively grabbing her hand and kissing it before letting her reclaim it.

She raised an eyebrow.

“I thought I was supposed to be flirting with you,” Derian said, keeping his face very straight.

Rahniseeta sighed, but she didn’t complain. She didn’t give him her hand again, either, though.

“That little boat,” she said, “is a light sailing vessel, one of many of the type owned by the Temple of Sea Beasts, and used for regular trips around the bay. Except in bad weather, it can be crewed by only two sailors.”

“Interesting,” Derian said. “I guess.”

“What is interesting,” Rahniseeta said, “is that boat is currently being used by Wain Endbrook and the other sailors who were shipwrecked last year.”

“They have a lot of freedom all of a sudden,” Derian said. “Don’t get me wrong, but I sort of had the impression that they were under restriction.”

“Those restrictions were recently raised,” Rahniseeta said, “on the same grounds for protest that you yourself used—that either they were prisoners or guests, and if they were guests they deserved more freedom to come and go.”

“Ah,” Derian said. “Did Wain make the appeal?”

“It was made for him by Aridisdu Shivadtmon,” Rahniseeta replied. “The same Shivadtmon who later got them use of the boat. Lucky Elwyn told Barnet that when he invited Barnet to join them sailing.”

“That’s the same Shivadtmon we saw with Waln in the market, isn’t it?” Derian asked.

“The same Shivadtmon,” Rahniseeta said, “who was with Wain in the market, and who regularly visits Dantarahma. I’ve seen him there myself.”

Derian frowned. “That’s odd. I don’t remember seeing Shivadtmon’s name on that list of appointments.”

“It isn’t there,” Rahniseeta said with smug smile. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

FIREKEEPER WAS SO OVERWHELMED by everything Questioner had told her that it took her several days before the obvious occurred to her.

She and Blind Seer found Questioner on the observation platform at the top of one of the towers. He was lying with his forepaws in front of him, his face turned to the east.

“That’s the direction they will come from,” he said, flicking one wolf ear in their direction. “The Old World has always come from the east, never from the west. It’s very strange, when you think about it.”

Firekeeper leaned against the parapet and looked at him. She was very aware both of the maimalodalu and of Blind Seer, seated in the narrow band of shade cast by the wall, watching the maimalodalu with silent, guarded intensity.

“So you sit up here in the sun and watch?” Firekeeper said. “You’ll see Old World ships coming sure enough. If they don’t come, the sun will make them in your head.”

“The sun isn’t that hot at this time of day,” Questioner said dismissively. “What is it you want?”

Firekeeper replied without the verbal fencing a human surely would have used. “You say you have been north, even to Blind Seer and my own home territory.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did you travel over land or sea?”

“Land.”

Firekeeper struggled to contain her rising excitement.

“Then it is possible to travel safely by land? I had heard there is a sea that eats into the land to the north. I thought it might make the land route impassable.”

“The land route is possible, but you must go far west in order to reach a point where the inlet is narrow enough to cross on foot. Even then many rivers converge there on their journey to the ocean. A foot traveler must ford or swim each one.”

“Could a horse go that way?”

“I think so, but it wouldn’t be an easy journey, nor a particularly swift one. Going by sea would be faster.”

There was a trace of a chuckle in Questioner’s voice and Firekeeper was willing to bet that someone—probably one of the ravens—had told him of her tendency toward seasickness.

“But it is possible to travel by land,” Firekeeper said, “even if the way is long—and the travelers could take a horse. That is very good to know.”

“Oh?”

Firekeeper flared at the maimalodalu’s blandness. All this time Questioner had not even turned his head to look at her, but had kept his gaze fixedly toward the east.

“Oh?” Firekeeper echoed mockingly. “Yes, it is good to know. Maybe you have forgotten, but Blind Seer, Derian, and I were brought to Liglim against our will, as prisoners in a ship. I would have run away a long time ago but I did not know if there was somewhere to run. Now I do.”

“And so you will run?”

Firekeeper shrugged. “First I will talk to Derian. I will tell him what you say.”

“Will you tell him who said it?”

Firekeeper looked at him. “Would you prefer I do not?”

The ugly face with its wolf’s ears and grey-spotted fur turned on the long neck and the blue eyes looked at her with a mixture of exasperation and sorrow.

“What do you think?”

“I think,” Firekeeper said, “I will tell Derian that I learned of this land route from a wolf who was adventurous in his youth. I think I will tell him that the tale of the maimalodalu was just a story. I think that version of the truth would serve better for everyone.”

“For one who does not lie easily, Firekeeper,” Questioner said, glancing at Blind Seer, “you certainly came up with that lie easily enough.”

Firekeeper stared levelly at the maimalodalu, her dark eyes unreadable for a long moment while she tried to decide whether this was insult or compliment—or perhaps a little of both. Unable to decide, she answered from the heart.

“I do not think calling you a wolf would be a lie,” she said, indicating the maimalodalu’s wolf’s ears, feathered tail, and body that borrowed details equally from wolf and jaguar. “You are at least as much wolf as I am.”

Questioner’s lips moved in what should have been a smile, but was not. “Then that would be a good answer to give your friend, Firekeeper. Do you leave for the mainland immediately?”

“Soon,” Firekeeper said. “It would not be fair to leave Derian alone and wondering when at last I have something to tell him.”

“I think it would be good for you to go to the mainland, Firekeeper,” Questioner said. “But I want you to think about something as you run to the outpost. Kidnapping you was wrong, but because of what was done to you, you learned things you might never have otherwise known.”

“I met you,” Firekeeper said bluntly. “That is the good thing. Now I know who other than the wolves I owe for saving my life. Otherwise, I am still trying to decide if this knowing is good—there is too much there, and too confusing.”

“Do you regret, then, knowing you are not a princess?”

Firekeeper looked at him in astonishment.

“You mean that my parents were not Prince Barden and Sweet Eirene?”

“Yes.”

“Not a bit. It seems to me these other two you named—Donal and Sarena—were every bit as useful and strong. What is ‘princess’ but a shaping of air into a hissing sound? Only when a princess works to be a princess—like Sapphire is learning—only then is the word something to be proud of, but just as a word, a title?”

Firekeeper laughed in scornful dismissal. “I remember what Sky said. Life is what you live. I want to live a wolf, not a princess. How close I came to losing that wolf part of me is what makes me afraid and uncertain. Whatever you did to my mind is fraying, and I wonder if I can remake that certainty.”

Questioner smiled, this time with a hint of honest amusement.

“Somehow, I don’t think you will stay uncertain about how very wolf you are, not with your own stubborn will and Blind Seer to remind you. Go then to the mainland. Being among humans again will be good for you.”

Firekeeper suspected that it would be. Among wolves she had always been aware of her weaknesses. Humans reminded her of her strengths.

Questioner shifted, rising at last from his couched position and facing Firekeeper and Blind Seer.