Wolf Captured (78 page)

Rahniseeta forced herself to focus on what Tiridanti was saying.

“I was hoping that Lady Blysse would come and speak with Truth,” Tiridanti said hesitantly. “However, I did not know how to locate her, and I did not wish to issue a formal summons. I believe it would be best if the disdum at large did not know about Truth’s difficulties.”

“I will say nothing,” Rahniseeta assured her. “Do you want me to try and find Lady Blysse for you?”

“Please. I will be leaving u-Nahal in a short while, so it would be best if she called on me at my residence. You are welcome to escort her.”

“Thank you, Ahmyndisdu.”

“Do you know where Lady Blysse is staying?”

“I do not,” Rahniseeta admitted, “but I know a few places to check and a few people who I can ask. Unfortunately, Derian Counselor is not due in Heeranenahalm until quite late or I could ask him. If anyone human knows where Lady Blysse is, it is he.”

Tiridanti nodded, but Rahniseeta had a distinct impression that the ahmyndisdu was having difficulty focusing. With a chill, Rahniseeta wondered if this was the usual distraction of one who fears for a loved one or something more sinister. What if whatever was wrong with Truth was spreading to the ahmyndisdu?

Rahniseeta waited for a formal dismissal, but one did not come, so somewhat awkwardly she said, “I will go seek Lady Blysse now.”

Tiridanti looked at her and gave a wan smile.

“Make all haste,” she said, her gaze returning to where the jaguar continued her restless pacing. “I am worried about Truth.”

“THE YARIMAIMALOM KNOW what this Dantarahma has done,” Firekeeper said to Blind Seer. “Why do they not make their displeasure clear?”

Blind Seer stretched, then rolled over on his back so she could scratch his chest. The park in which they had found Rahniseeta and Derian intertwined had proven a good place for more innocent resting as well. The wolf and woman had taken refuge from the day’s heat in a grove canopied by broad-leafed young maples, but though their chosen place was comfortable and the humid heat argued that sleep was the best way in which to spend the daylight hours, Firekeeper’s mind would not let go of all Derian and Rahniseeta had reported.

“I think,” Blind Seer replied, “that the yarimaimalom have made their displeasure clear. They used Derian to inform more trustworthy humans than Dantarahma of that betrayal.”

Firekeeper frowned. “They could have killed Dantarahma as easily—and no one the wiser.”

“I am not as sure of that as you are,” Blind Seer replied. “However, even if the yarimaimalom did slay Dantarahma, who is to say that the one who would succeed him would be any better? Do you truly believe that deities ordain the chosen rulers?”

“I don’t know,” Firekeeper admitted. “One of the Wise Wolves said that their diviners have felt a presence guiding their searches. Who am I to call them liars? It would be like claiming that there was no scent on a trail simply because I cannot smell as well as you.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Blind Seer admitted. “Another would be to say that these Liglimom—human and yarimaimalom alike—credit to divine intervention what someone like Doc would explain as an inborn talent.”

“You are always,” Firekeeper said, not quite able to hide her exasperation, “so very reasonable.”

“Someone has to be. You are always so certain that the best way to deal with a problem is to eliminate the most obvious source.”

Firekeeper moved her hand up under the wolf’s jaw, rhythmically scratching.

“And sometimes it is,” she said defiantly.

“And sometimes it isn’t,” Blind Seer replied, angling his head slightly so as to bring an itchy spot under those strong fingers. “I think in matters of humans in intrigue, the simplest solution is not the best.”

Firekeeper was about to pursue this further when in one strong, lithe motion Blind Seer had rolled out from beneath her hand and onto his feet. He stood, ears pricked, nose up to catch the breeze, alert to signals that even her keen hearing had not detected.

“Someone comes,” he said after a few deep breaths. “Rahniseeta. Alone. Agitated. I scent uncertainty as well.”

“She doesn’t know we are here then,” Firekeeper said. “Do you think she seeks us or someone else?”

“Do you mean Derian?” Blind Seer gaped his jaws in a laughing grin. “That is not in the scent I catch. Moreover, didn’t Derian tell us that he might not come to Heeranenahalm today—something to do with a white mare?”

“That’s right,” Firekeeper said. “Let us go learn if Rahniseeta seeks us.”

With no further delay, the pair ghosted from their shaded refuge and toward the trail where they would intersect Rahniseeta. They saw her before she did them, and Firekeeper noticed how the woman twice opened her mouth as if to call, then stopped.

“Do you think she fears seeming foolish?”
Firekeeper asked Blind Seer.
“Or is there something more here?”

“More,”
the wolf immediately replied.

“Then let us ease her apprehension,”
Firekeeper said, and wedding thought to action, stepped out onto the trail a handful of paces in front of Rahniseeta.

The Liglimo woman drew up short, admirably concealing a cry of astonishment. Even so, the breath she swallowed meant that she must pause before greeting them. Despite this, Rahniseeta addressed the reason for her being there with what Firekeeper thought was almost wolf-like directness.

“Ahmyndisdu Tiridanti wishes your help,” Rahniseeta said, addressing herself to Firekeeper, though her body language made clear that she did not exclude Blind Seer. “The jaguar Truth has been acting strangely and Tiridanti hopes you can speak to Truth and discover the source of her distress.”

Firekeeper remembered the ahmyndisdu from their earlier meetings. Once the wolf-woman might have dismissed Tiridanti as a girl holding her post through titles and luck rather than skill. Now, though her opinion of the other had not changed, Firekeeper understood the mystic power humans attached to the idea of rulers. She also remembered that Dantarahma was the representative of Water, as Tiridanti was of Fire, and wondered if this sickness in Fire’s representative Beast was coincidence.

She said as much aloud to Rahniseeta, and saw the other woman’s face tighten.

“I wish I could say that you are the first to put this thought into my mind,” Rahniseeta confessed, “but from the moment I left Tiridanti’s side, I found myself wondering if there might be a connection.”

“How to do?” Firekeeper asked.

“You mean how would Dantarahma harm Truth?”

Firekeeper grunted agreement.

“I don’t know. As we told you, we have been trying to discover who Dantarahma’s allies might be. We have a few sound guesses, and from them have concluded that though Dantarahma has drawn heavily from those he knew when he served in the Temple of Sea Beasts, he has cast his nets more widely. Strangely, another grouping seems to come from those closely associated with Fire.”

“Fire? Tiridanti’s people?”

“That’s right,” Rahniseeta said. “We were puzzled at first. Then Varjuna recalled the resentment when Tiridanti was chosen to represent Fire in u-Liall. Everyone thought that matter resolved and forgotten—that those who had resented her appointment were resigned if not glad, and that, indeed, most were glad.”

“Because,” Firekeeper said, remembering something said in a discussion that seemed long ago, back when she was still a prisoner in the Temple of the Cold Bloods with nothing to do but drowse and listen to interminable human chatter, “Tiridanti will rule for life and a life is a long time to gather favors to oneself as a squirrel does nuts.”

“Exactly.”

They were close to the gate into Heeranenahalm now, and Rahniseeta signaled that the matter should be spoken of no further.

“Tell me,” Rahniseeta said, stopping her hand halfway to the gate, “do you know how to find Tiridanti’s residence on your own?”

Firekeeper did, having made certain of the territory as any wolf would.

“A house shaped like this,” she said, tracing a rough teardrop in the air. “Has wall. Stinks of cat.”

Rahniseeta’s formerly serious expression melted into a grin.

“That’s right. Do you think you could meet me there, and make an effort to be seen by as few people as possible? Tiridanti didn’t wish Truth’s difficulty to become common knowledge.”

“I can,” Firekeeper said. “Warn them of our coming.”

“I shall.”

They parted then. Firekeeper and Blind Seer spent an enjoyable time working out a route that took them to the residence of the ahmyndisdu, as they flattered themselves, undetected. They were helped in that most of the Liglimom had retired indoors from the heat, the business of the temple city suspended until late afternoon should bring relative coolness.

When Firekeeper made as if to climb over a wall near a small door and so to admit the wolf into the compound, a somewhat sarcastic voice commented from amid the vines atop the wall.

“Why not try the latch?”

Firekeeper looked up to meet the yellow gaze of a bobcat lying stretched amid the cooling vines. Its tawny fur with undertones of rust and pattern of spots provided admirable concealment—until the tufted ears twitched in amusement.

The wolf-woman glanced at Blind Seer and the wolf muttered defensively: “The entire place reeks of cat. Who am I to scent one more?”

Firekeeper grinned at him, then, without exchanging further words with the bobcat, put her thumb to the latch and pressed down. It rose easily and, except for a slight click of metal against metal, without a sound. She pushed open the door and stepped through.

The bobcat was waiting for them, poised lightly on what seemed to Firekeeper rather oversized paws, its short tail held stiffly in what might have been an attitude of wariness.

“Come this way. The ahmyndisdu awaits.”

The wolves followed, and were taken along curving paths overhung with scented greenery and flowering vines to a structure that had eschewed the usual walls for tightly stretched fabric suspended in metal frames. The roof was solid, plated over in enameled metal that gave the sky back its blue.

“Two humans,”
Blind Seer said. “
Tiridanti and Rahniseeta. The jaguar Truth. No others, not even in the garden. Tiridanti’s will rules here, that much seems certain. What she wishes kept secret is kept so.”

Firekeeper nodded. She was certain, however, that though the potentially gossipy humans were kept away, the yarimaimalom were not. Did Tiridanti trust them more, or was this another indication that in the land of the Liglimom the yarimaimalom did indeed outrank even the most highly ranked humans?

She shrugged the matter from her, and when the bobcat had led them into the screened house, the wolf-woman stood still and silent, her gaze fastened on where the jaguar Truth paced.

The great cat’s motion was not like that of the great cats Firekeeper had seen kept caged in New Kelvin. Theirs was a restless back and forth, back and forth, a tracing of the limits of the cage as if each pass held the hopeless hope that something might have altered, some way into freedom been revealed.

Truth’s pacing was a drunken thing, weaving steps probing one paw in front of the other as if the jaguar were feeling her way over uneven ground. Periodically, she paused, raising her head as if listening, but to whatever sounds she heard, Firekeeper was deaf.

Firekeeper glanced at Blind Seer, but though the wolf’s ears pricked forward, he indicated that he heard nothing.

“Has Truth been poisoned?” Firekeeper asked, hearing her own voice hoarse against a quiet broken only by the pad of velvet paws against stone.

Tiridanti looked at her, and shook her head.

“I do not think so. I was kidisdu before I became ahmyndisdu, and we learned how to check for such things.” Tiridanti gave an apologetic smile, as if confessing to personally committing some great crime. “In the countryside, herders sometimes set out tainted baits when they suspect their flocks are being preyed upon.”

“Truth looks poisoned,” Firekeeper said. “Or drunk.”

“For days now, Truth has had no food but that which I have prepared for her with my own hands,” Tiridanti replied. “I have selected the meat myself, while the beast that grew it still lived and breathed. I myself have cut the animal’s throat and drained away the blood. Moreover, none of the other great cats are so ill, though some of those from lines known to be gifted in divination have shown something of the same … drunkenness.”

The ahmyndisdu frowned and tapped her chin with a forefinger on which the chewed nail revealed the anxiety she would not let enter her voice.

“That is an interesting comparison, Lady Blysse. Drunkenness. I had not thought of it. But what could Truth be drunk upon? She has drunk nothing but blood from freshly killed game and water from the same pitcher from which I myself have eased my thirst.”

Firekeeper felt pity for the ahmyndisdu—an emotion she was not accustomed to experiencing for one who was, after all, nearly a stranger. Yet it was clear that Tiridanti was tremendously worried about Truth—and for the cat’s own sake. Never once had the ahmyndisdu expressed an awareness that the great cat’s illness might be a symptom of some greater attack on the human with whom she was most closely identified.

“Rahniseeta say you wish me talk to Truth,” Firekeeper said. “I will do this, but I ask one thing. You will not be able to understand how I talk, and I not wish to stop to tell.”

Tiridanti had not practiced divination for several years now without learning something about interpreting cryptic statements.

“You mean we should listen quietly, and not ask you to translate?”

“As I say,” Firekeeper agreed, knowing she was being perhaps a trace brusque.

Although Firekeeper would never admit it to anyone save Blind Seer, the great cats rather intimidated her. In her childhood, Firekeeper had encountered pumas and bobcats both, but wandering wolf pups are fair game to other predators, so Firekeeper had never lingered to extend the encounter. More recently, she had spoken with great cats both Royal and Wise, but never without a lingering sense that the cats were luxuriating in a sense of self-importance.