Wolf Captured (9 page)

“EASY, DEAR HEART,”
Blind Seer cautioned when Firekeeper would have reached for the knife hidden within her shirt.
“Killing him would be satisfying, but it would pull your one fang.”
Firekeeper froze almost before her hand moved, knowing Blind Seer was right. Her only chance of hitting Waln was if she threw the knife. Whether or not she could hit him through the intervening bars and using an unfamiliar weapon hardly mattered in the light that she would only have that one throw. Instead she stepped to Derian’s side and spoke for the first time since Waln had approached the cage.

“What you mean? Our kin
will
miss us.”

Harjeedian also joined the conversation for the first time.

“Not really, Lady Blysse—or should I call you ‘Firekeeper’?”

“Firekeeper is wolf name, for friends,” she spat, “and a word will not change how I feel.”

“Lady Blysse then,” Harjeedian said, “though the time will come when you may be glad to have me as a friend.”

Firekeeper dreaded that Harjeedian might be right and so swallowed her impulse to deny that any such thing could happen. Instead she stood, her hand resting on Blind Seer’s shoulder. The wolf had risen to his feet and now stood pressed protectively close to her left side.

Harjeedian studied them for a moment, then returned to her original question.

“Your kin will not miss you, Lady Blysse. We ascertained in advance that none of your avian companions seemed to be accompanying you at this time. You are known for disappearing from human ken. Although you are apparently of some importance to the wolves, I do not think you are in constant contact with them. If you do not arrive when they expect you—if they expect you—they will assume there is good reason.”

He shifted his gaze to Derian.

“Derian Counselor offers a greater problem. However, it is not one we will need to solve for several moonspans. I will tell you this, Counselor. The time will come when you will be offered opportunity to communicate with your family. It will be up to you whether you will agree to communicate a somewhat edited version of events or leave your family grieving, assuming you dead.”

Firekeeper could tell that, for Derian, this last was like a blow to the gut. Fox Hair might have spent much of the last two years away from his family, but whenever possible he had written them, often scribbling away even when the letters could not be sent and then sending a large package all at once. Given the choice of lying or of leaving his family to grieve, she knew Derian would lie.

Harjeedian knew this, too. She could tell by the satisfied set of his shoulders, the confident tilt of his chin. He might speak another language with his lips, but the language of his body was not too different from the one that she had already learned. That reminded her of another question.

“How you speak Pellish so well?” she asked, aware of her own deficiencies in that area. “Did you know before?”

Harjeedian shook his head.

“In Waln’s account of events, he trimmed a few details. One of these is that among those traveling with him on the ill-fated ship was a minstrel. Barnet had hoped to gather new tales with which to make his fame and perhaps win the favor of Queen Valora’s court. He was already multilingual, speaking the tongue of Waterland and something of that of New Kelvin. He found learning our language and teaching yours fairly easy. Although you were not introduced at that time, Barnet was one of the other sailors who accompanied me into Hawk Haven. There, when not serving as local liaison, I had him tutor me. I am, however, a quick learner.”

“Very,” Firekeeper said with grudging admiration. She hadn’t understood much of the long speech, but the very flow of words was proof of Harjeedian’s boast.

“You will meet this minstrel before long,” Harjeedian said. “He and I will be teaching both of you—but especially Derian Counselor—my language.”

Derian shook his head.

“I’ll try, but if you had wanted skill with languages, you would have done better to bring Elise or Wendee.”

“Goody Wendee remains in the North Woods,” Harjeedian said, “and this Elise of whom you speak would be Lady Archer. That title alone is reason why we would not lay hands on her. The baron, her father, has become protective of his chick since her last venture abroad, fearful, I think, that Lady Archer’s interest in foreign lands and ways will draw her away from her inheritance.”

“How do you know so much?” Derian asked almost angrily.

Harjeedian smiled. “That selfsame minstrel has collected numerous tales. He added to his knowledge while we waited for fit opportunity to take you.”

Firekeeper wondered why the minstrel hadn’t taken advantage of what had apparently been ample shore time to escape. What hostage had Harjeedian held over the minstrel’s actions? Perhaps they could learn, and so turn this stranger into an ally.

Obviously frustrated by his loss of dominance, Waln had been trying to insert himself into the conversation. He managed to do so at this point.

“The immediate question is,” Waln sneered, “whether you want to spend the rest of what will be a rather long voyage locked in that cage or whether you will give your parole.”

Firekeeper looked at Derian, waiting for translation of this unfamiliar concept. She had heard of parole in another context—Doc had once made her promise not to leave the house when she had been recovering from injuries—but this. didn’t sound quite the same.

“Waln wants us to promise we won’t try to escape or offer harm to any on this vessel,” Derian translated, glancing at Harjeedian to see if he had understood correctly. “If we will do so, they’ll let us out of this cage.”

“That is correct,” Harjeedian said. “If you offer your parole, we will give all three of you freedom of the ship. You will share a cabin abovedecks and be fed as well as any member of the crew.”

He gave Firekeeper a sly grin.

“I will even see if I can help you with your seasickness. You may adjust on your own, but I do have drugs that may help during the transition.”

Firekeeper considered. “This may be good. If we do this parole, we are free to move about. What else?”

“What else?” Waln retorted indignantly. “What more could you want?”

Firekeeper fastened her gaze on Harjeedian.

“To know what he want.”

Harjeedian met her gaze.

“I cannot tell you everything now. My teachers reserve that right for themselves. For now, I want you to learn my language so that you can speak for yourself when we arrive. Is that too much?”

Firekeeper shook her head, though inwardly she sighed. Another language! Why couldn’t humans speak as simply and directly as wolves?

ALTHOUGH
FAYONEJUNJAL
SAILED WITHIN SIGHT of the coastline, Derian knew that as far as any watchers ashore were concerned, they were invisible. It was all a matter of size.
Fayonejunjal
might be large as far as seagoing vessels went, but compared with the wasteland of water surrounding them the ship was minuscule.

Harjeedian and Wain had been as good as their word. Now that parole had been given and accepted, the cage had been disassembled, the pieces stored in one of the holds. The cabin they had been assigned seemed small when filled with two humans and a wolf, but Derian suspected that Firekeeper wouldn’t spend much time in those cramped confines. She was experimenting with what minimized her seasickness, and for now preferred to be out in the open air.

Derian leaned against the rail, watching the boat race through the waves. He had no idea how fast they were traveling or how far they had come. The sailors seemed to be doing a good deal of setting sails, and the boat kept jigging back and forth.

There must have been landmarks that meant something to the captain, for she appeared placid and content. All Derian could make of the activity was that their course was carrying them more or less to the south. Soon enough, they would be away from friendly coastline, and then the vessel was likely to come in closer to the shore. As far as their situation was concerned, proximity to the shoreline didn’t matter. Whether they were a mile or a half-mile or even a quarter of a mile out, the three of them couldn’t swim the distance without being recaptured. Even if they stole one of the shore boats, they couldn’t sail it.

Derian had grown up near the Flin River, but his family had been distinctly land-oriented. He could paddle a bit, but the lore of sails was a mystery to him. As far as he knew, Firekeeper had been on a boat only once, during their visit to Revelation Point Castle in Bright Bay, and that had been just messing about. Now that he thought about it, she’d been eager to get ashore fairly quickly. He wondered if she’d felt seasick even then.

It was a moot point. Firekeeper was certainly seasick now, and
Fayonejunjal
made as good a prison as any he had ever imagined.

Derian turned his concentration to considering what he could do that might be turned to their advantage. Learning Harjeedian’s language would be a good start. He knew how much they had relied on Elise and Wendee in New Kelvin—enough that his own command of New Kelvinese had never progressed beyond the very basic words and simple grammar necessary to buy market goods or ask directions.

In this situation, he would need to fill both Elise’s and Wendee’s roles. If Firekeeper’s willingness to learn Pellish was any indication, she would make her own rules as to what elements and how much of the language was necessary to her needs, then progress no further.

Derian glanced over to where Firekeeper was stretched out near Blind Seer, both apparently asleep. He wondered just how much Pellish the wolf understood—that he understood some, Derian had no doubt. Could it be that Firekeeper understood more than she was letting on—that her fractured grammar and simplistic vocabulary were an elaborate ploy?

Derian had no idea, but he resolved to do his best not to give away everything he was learning. He knew that there were times when he and Elise had spoken deliberately quickly and using more complicated words in order to talk over Firekeeper’s head. Their captors might resort to some similar ploy—and then Derian would have the upper hand.

Derian grinned to himself and wiped spray off his face. Of course, all of that rested on his ability to learn something of the language. He might never get beyond the basics. They might never teach him more than what they wanted him to know. For the first time, Derian understood—really understood—the Old Country rulers’ policy of withholding training in key skills from their colonists. Lack of knowledge could be a prison far more unbreakable than any walled dungeon.

He was still considering this when he heard footsteps on the deck. Turning, he confronted a man he vaguely recognized as one of the three sailors Firekeeper had subdued during their failed escape attempt.

The newcomer was shorter than Derian, but that didn’t make him short; Derian was taller than average. He was clean-shaven, and as his wispy, straw-colored hair didn’t look to be the type that would make a thick beard, this was certainly a good choice. It also gave a clear view of features that were just a trace too bland to be handsome—that was, until the man smiled. Then his face lit up from within.

Derian felt a surge of instantaneous liking, and warned himself to guard against it. The man clearly knew his power—and if he had this effect on another man he probably had an even easier time with women.

He won’t have an easy time with Firekeeper, though, Derian thought.
She thinks smiles are a way of showing how sharp your teeth are.

“Barnet,” the man said, offering a slight bow. “Harjeedian said he had mentioned me to you.”

“You’re the minstrel,” Derian said. “The one who taught Harjeedian Pellish.”

“And the one who is going to teach you Liglimosh—that’s my term for their language,” Barnet agreed. “They just change the inflection on ‘Liglimo’ and I find that too confusing.”

Barnet leaned his forearms against the railing and looked down over the side. The pose looked natural, as if he had spent a lot of time on ships. After a moment, Derian joined him.

“I thought,” Barnet said after a moment, “we should get acquainted, given that we’re going to spend a lot of time together.”

Derian nodded. Barnet’s attire was similar to that worn by the rest of the ship’s crew, so it didn’t give away much about him. He wore his hair long and tied back—the style most usual in Hawk Haven—but as most of the sailors did the same, and they most certainly were not from Hawk Haven, it didn’t tell anything about him.

Barnet’s accent sounded more like Bright Bay than Hawk Haven, though Derian supposed he could be from the Isles. Derian hadn’t met enough of the people from there to be sure just how much their accents differed from that of their parent country.

“You first,” Derian suggested. “Tell me about yourself. From what Harjeedian said, you already know more than enough about all of us.”

“Stories,” Barnet said, shaking his head as if to dismiss his information. “Gossip. Doubtless exaggeration. Useful, as your being here proves, but probably not the first things you would tell about yourself.”