Wolf Captured (87 page)

Nor should they,
she thought,
not when the victor would be one like Waln Endbrook.

Nor could she forget the links that bound Waln to Dantarahma. That Shivadtmon sailed with Waln could not be coincidental, and Firekeeper wondered just how much the junjaldisdu knew of this venture—and what he hoped to gain from it.

The owls had also confirmed that Rahniseeta was among the humans. They reported that although she was alive, unbound, and apparently uninjured, the young woman moved about very little. Word had been passed back via the owls to the seals who were watching the
Islander
that—although the seals must be the final judges—if they could keep Rahinseeta alive, it would be appreciated.

One of the younger seals had come out himself to offer assurances.

“We shook the boat in the night,” he said, the liquid velvet of his eyes wide, his nostrils flared as he caught his breath—and relived his excitement, “but stopped when the humans offered threat. We saw the girl then, looking over the side, but she seemed subdued and made no effort to come away, though as far as any could tell she was unbound.”

“There are things,” Firekeeper said, her hand twined in Blind Seer’s fur, “that can bind one as tightly as any rope. Fear may hold her there.”

“Or a desire to escape notice,” the blue-eyed wolf added. “A fawn or rabbit huddles not merely from terror, but from a wisdom that knows how motion catches the eye.”

The seal, a creature of the ever-moving waters, did not appear to understand, but was too polite to say so. His report given, he occupied himself catching fish, splashing ahead as he guided them toward the fastest route to their destination.

Firekeeper scratched the long hairs along one of Blind Seer’s ears, wholly in agreement with him. Whatever the reasons Rahinseeta did not act to free herself, Firekeeper did not think the less of her. However, the wolf-woman could do nothing to change the situation until the boat brought them closer. For now, she stilled her impatience by rejoicing that Harjeedian’s medicine spared her the worst of the seasickness—and that the passage between mainland and islands was not so very long.

“Soon,” Firekeeper said to the wolf, “soon we will once again run on the central island. Then we shall see how clearly Truth reads the future—or whether we are too late to do anything but mourn lost opportunities.”

“And friends,” added Blind Seer somberly.

BY THE TIME Waln realized that he had overstepped himself, he realized that there was no turning back.

I should have killed the girl there on the docks,
he thought desperately
. There might have been questions as to how she came to be there, but with any luck, blame would have been laid at Derian Carter’s feet.

Yet even as Waln delighted in the image of one who had helped lay him low there at Smuggler’s Light laid low in turn, Waln knew such puerile fantasies would not change the situation in which he found himself.

Now Rahniseeta is gone, and by morning, if not before, there will be a search. Will that search also lead to our being found gone? Quite possibly. If they come to suspect that the two disappearances are connected, then the search will be for us as well. Even if all they think is that we have gone sailing and took the girl along, they will be looking. They will not look here in these sacrosanct waters, but the fact of their looking will make our taking the ship and getting home aboard her all the more difficult.

Waln dared not even think that the goal might now be impossible. So much had depended on quickness, and no one worrying overmuch about the northerners going sailing.

Can I order the men to turn around?

He shook his head as if to an actual interrogator.

No. They’ve come this far on promise of homecoming and treasure. They’ll not return meekly to accept whatever penalties will be brought upon us for trespass and kidnapping. It is forward or not at all.

Immediately, Waln began to consider what actions might best secure their survival—even the chance of their success.

We are eight men, well armed and well trained. We have much to gain, little to lose. I think I can make even Elwyn see that. Shivadtmon will side with us without a doubt, making us nine. Moreover, he has hinted that the crew of the ship are somehow indebted to him. If we can make it aboard and away … Yes. There is still a chance.

Despite the thick tangle of forest growth surrounding them on all sides, there was no doubt when darkness gave way to damp, grey predawn light. Waln took the long glass and scanned the shore methodically, looking for the best possible place to bring the
Islander
to shore.

Based on his readings among the old charts, Waln had gathered that this particular island had been liberally equipped with landings that would take boats that drew far more than the
Islander.
Indeed, stone for the towers whose highest points were just visible above the trees had been quarried here, assuring clear waterways that—if he was any judge—the strong ocean currents would have kept scoured clean.

“Ready tow,” he said. “Rarby and Tedgewinn, take soundings over there by those large rocks.”

The men obeyed, readying the two rowboats that did duty whenever taking the sailing vessel in would be awkward or uncertain.

“We can do it,” Rarby called back. “We may need to raise the rudder, just to be safe, but I think we’re fine.”

“Let’s be at it then,” Waln said. “Shivadtmon, these are your lands. Why don’t you join Elwyn and Barnet in one of the tow boats? Wiatt, when Rarby brings his boat over, help them make fast, then drop down and pull an oar.”

The operation went smoothly, all the more so for Waln in that the two he was least certain about—Barnet and Shivadtmon, along with the unpredictable Elwyn—were down in one of the small boats where they were unlikely to cause trouble. As if they were coming into a familiar harbor, they brought the
Islander
in, then made her fast bow and stern so that the changing of the tide would not rattle her about.

This close to shore, the tower tops were no longer easily visible, but Waln had taken his readings with great care and felt confident they would easily find their way. How hard could it be to find high ground after all? The island was large enough, but not so huge that a man in good condition couldn’t walk end to end in a few hours.

“Right,” Waln said. “Now, Barnet, you’ve vowed not to go ashore, and I’ll not try to force you. We’ll leave you anchor watch. Maybe you can sing to the seals if they come back around. That should keep you from getting lonely.”

Much as I hate leaving you,
Waln added silently,
I’d rather have you here than armed and at my back. As there is no way you can manage the Islander alone, you might as well serve a useful purpose.

Waln rather thought from the look in Barnet’s eyes that the minstrel understood what he was thinking, but that hardly mattered now, did it?

“Rahniseeta is coming with us,” Waln went on in response to the mute question on the girl’s face. “I don’t want anything happening to her where I can’t see it.”

Shelby’s expression said that, unlike his brother and Tedgewinn, he hadn’t caught the implicit threat in Waln’s comment. All he cared was that Rahniseeta would not be left alone with Barnet. Shelby went over to her and helped her rise. Then he escorted her to one of the rowboats. If he was rather free with his hands while assisting her, Waln chose to overlook it. Rahniseeta remained mute, her high spirit apparently broken.

And no wonder,
Waln thought.
How much spirit can a people who let themselves be ordered about by animals really have?

The thought comforted him. It was with more confidence that he doled out weapons, sacks, rope, and digging tools. If some sailors were given rather more gear than weapons, everyone was well enough armed that no one protested.

Waln made certain that the bows he left for Barnet’s use had markedly less range than those carried by his best archers. Barnet would be able to protect the
Islander
, but he would be putting himself in grave danger if he tried to hold the vessel against them when they returned.

And who was to say he would? Barnet had already indicated that he feared treachery from the Liglimom and that he was willing to work for passage home. So far he had done nothing to indicate he had changed his mind, but from time to time Wain had seen something in his eyes that made taking precautions only wise.

They landed and pulled the rowboats up well beyond the high-tide mark.

“Do we start digging for treasure now?” asked Elwyn eagerly. He pointed with the handle of the shovel he held loosely in one hand. “I see a bit of wall right over there, and another bit there. There might be treasure right here.”

Waln shook his head and adopted a parental tone.

“If there is, Elwyn, storm and sea will have done their part to bury it more deeply. You know how it is close to the water’s edge. I’m for the towers up on the hill. They’re likely to have stood sound, and maybe even have vaults in which things stored long ago remain untouched.”

Elwyn immediately brightened.

“Look!” he said, his voice still bright with excitement. “Is that a road going up?”

It was not so much a road as a trail, but it went in the right direction, and as they mounted there was ample evidence that at some point there might well have been a road here.

“If we walk steadily,” Waln said, “we should be to the towers before the sun is truly risen. Everyone up to it?”

The response was a general quickening of pace. The lust for treasure was on them now, running through their veins like gold fire. These were men who were accustomed to standing long watches at sea when storms would not allow the luxury of rest. They had been well cared for by the Liglimom, and even Nolan was now in sound health. Anticipation was all they needed to make them hurry.

Waln wondered what might be watching them from the woods. From the surreptitious glances cast side to side by his companions they were wondering so as well.

But nothing came forth. Though at times the birds and little frogs let their songs fade into startled silence, the humans still heard nothing.

Stalked by nothing, they climbed.

THEY ARRIVED AT the top of the hill before the morning was old, but the air was no longer cool. By common consent, they moved to where a section of crumbling wall still cast a band of shade and seated themselves. Water bottles were passed back and forth, while the cluster of towers was subjected to silent scrutiny.

“Those towers are where we should start,” Waln said. “We’ll start by figuring which one is least likely to come down on our heads and go from there.”

“They all look really good,” Elwyn said happily. “They’re not falling down at all—well, not much.”

Waln looked more carefully and realized the idiot was right. They’d passed a number of crumbling walls and foundations on the way up, some recognizable because the bulky shapes covered in vines could only be ruins. In comparison, these were in excellent condition.

Each of the five towers was a different shape: one cylindrical, one square, one octagonal, one star-shaped, and the one in the center a half-moon. All the towers were grown over with climbing tendrils of vines, sometimes intertwining through the crenellations that uniformly bordered the top. Random stones within these uneven borders had fallen away, making for a gape-toothed grin.

This relatively high standard of preservation might be credited to superior magical construction, but surely magic could not explain why the ground between the structures was free from the more usual vegetative clutter. Yet not a sapling split a flagstone, nor did grass grow where the mortar between the stones had eroded away.

Deer,
Waln thought
. Elk. Rabbits. There might even be feral sheep. Sheep can shave a field down to bedrock if there are enough of them. On an island like this it’s a wonder anything is still growing with the animals all trapped.

But Wain couldn’t convince even himself of the likelihood of roaming flocks of feral sheep. He was relieved that no one else seemed to have noticed the relative tidiness of the area. Sailors might not notice anything to do with plants, of course, but was Shivadtmon too quiet?

“What do you think, Aridisdu?” Waln asked, partly because he wanted to know, partly because it would be better if Shivadtmon offered any worries in response to Waln’s query rather than on his own initiative. “Do your studies give any insights as to where we should begin?”

“The high places were preferred for sacrifices,” Shivadtmon said, his voice a trace unsteady, “but I cannot think those who abandoned this place would have stored their goods where the breaking of a window or shutter would have left their valuables vulnerable.”

“My thoughts precisely,” Waln said, though he knew little and cared less about the religious aspects. All he wanted was confirmation of his gut feeling that valuables would be stored underground.

Waln heaved himself to his feet, carefully hiding that his muscles had stiffened during the short rest. These men were like wolves. Show them weakness and they would be upon him—one less to share the treasure.

At the thought of wolves, Waln scanned the green curtain of the forest’s edge, but nothing moved unless at the lazy caress of the wind.

“It’s getting hot,” Tedgewinn said impatiently, hefting his shovel. “Let’s get on with it. Bound to be cooler inside.”

As they crossed toward the cluster of buildings, the group bunched close, though by instinct rather than by order. Rahniseeta was set in the middle, circled by her captors as a herd might encircle a calf. Rarby and Shelby, their crossbows loaded, flanked the group, bulls with their horns lowered. Nothing challenged them, but Waln felt increasingly sure something must be out there.

Where is the rubble?
Waln thought
. Where are the little bits of grass thrusting between the pavers? If rabbits and deer have nibbled them away, where are their droppings? Surely the wind doesn’t politely roll them away to feed the earth, no matter what Shivadtmon might blather.