Wolf Hunting (4 page)

Truth gathered herself, compacting her strong and stocky body, leaping from the chaos of lostness in which she had been trapped into …

She had thought she might leap into herself, had thought she might rejoin the body and mind that had been sundered when she—she could admit it—had gone insane. She had heard insanity defined as losing one’s mind. In her case, she knew precisely where her mind was, but that mind was so cut off from her body she wasn’t even certain it was still alive. To her the possibility that her body had died and that she was a wandering spirit, a ghost, seemed very likely.

Truth had always enjoyed ghost stories, but now that she might well be a ghost, she wasn’t at all sure she liked it.

Where was she? She had thought to leap into her body, but this she had not done, but she had leapt, and she had arrived. She was somewhere. The randomness of probable futures no longer clashed around her. She was somewhere else.

Her surroundings were more silvery than otherwise, full of shadows and repetitions. What interested her more than this was that the voice was again calling.

“Here, kitty, kitty …”

The voice came from the waters of a deep pool that Truth had not noticed until this moment. She padded over to it, looked down into the waters. She cast no reflection and this troubled her. It was said that ghosts cast no reflection. Did this mean she was indeed a ghost?

Even so, she was thirsty, and she dipped her head and drank.

“Hey there, kitty,” came the voice.

There was motion in the pool. With a flickering of hope—an emotion Truth thought she had discarded long ago as futile—Truth thought she was seeing herself. Then she realized that though the figure within the pool was indeed a jaguar, it was not herself.

“Who are you, there in the water, calling me?” she demanded.

“Who are you to say I am the one in the water?” the other countered. He smelled arrogant and male, and for Truth, for whom this was not the season, very distasteful. “To me, you are the one beneath the water—and I think I am right.”

“Why?”

“I know how you can get out from where you are.”

“How?”

“You won’t believe me, but I’ve told you this before. There is a door. You must find someone who can open it.”

Truth nodded, and felt a shiver when the jaguar in the pool nodded a moment behind.

“Who can open the door?” she said. “You say ‘someone,’ but I hear you say ‘Someone.’”

“I have told you before,” the voice said. “There is someone with hands who owes you a favor. Firekeeper. Let her repay you and open that door.”

“Firekeeper,” Truth said. “Why not?”

“Remember,” the voice said, and for the first time the mocking note had vanished, replaced with intense urgency. “You must tell them about the door. Tell them soon. Ask for Firekeeper.”

TRUTH WAS BEING KEPT on a portion of Center Island somewhat distant from the towers. Her holding pen was constructed from the partially rebuilt walls of what had once been a large house. The door was an enormous boulder wedged into place.

A ladder had been leaned against the outside of the wall. Firekeeper scampered squirrel-like to the top, where she could peer over and in. Her first thought was that Truth could probably get out of this enclosure if she had a mind to do so. Her second, as she watched the Wise Jaguar’s restless pacing, was that Truth seemed to have hardly enough mind to stay on her feet, much less leap a high wall.

Powerful Tenderness had accompanied Firekeeper and Blind Seer to this place. The other beast-souled seemed more eager to return to their usual routines. Then, too, Firekeeper thought she made them a little nervous. Even when she had come to Center Island during her wandering year on Misheemnekuru, most of the beast-souled had kept their distance from her. Only Hope and Powerful Tenderness had regularly sought her out.

Firekeeper didn’t know why this was so, but she knew how she hated being pressed when she didn’t want someone’s company—she thought of her foster brother, Edlin, with a smile—and was not about to force her company on those who did not want her.

Firekeeper described to Blind Seer what she saw.

“Truth paces down there. Her manner is like but not like what we saw that time when Truth was so far gone she would not eat. There is something of the same lack of connection to her surroundings—she just stumbled against a stone anyone with open eyes could have seen was there—but there is not the same rambling. Once you watch a while, you see deliberation.”

“Does she hear your voice?” Blind Seer asked.

“Not that I can tell,” Firekeeper said. She made her way down the ladder once more and turned to Powerful Tenderness. “Can we go in to Truth? Can you roll back your door?”

Powerful Tenderness nodded, but clearly he was concerned. “I can, but remember this …”

He held up his scarred arm in mute reminder. Firekeeper, recalling that among the Center Island wolves there was at least one who had the healing talent, took the warning as seriously as it was given. Truth might be caged, but she was not in the least safe.

“Still,” Firekeeper said, “I would go in.”

“And I with her,” Blind Seer said. “Two of us might deal better with Truth should the need arise.”

“Go in as soon as there is room enough for you to pass,” Powerful Tenderness said, “and I will close the gap immediately after you again.”

The wolves said nothing, but their moving was answer enough. With a grunt and a heave, Powerful Tenderness shifted the boulder. Firekeeper was through in a breath, Blind Seer a breath after. He gave a short, sharp howl, and a moment later the boulder rolled back into place.

That howl seemed to have reached Truth as no sound made from the other side of the wall had done. The jaguar stopped pacing and her rounded ears twitched. Her tail lashed irritably side to side. She took a step, but paused before her paw could touch the leaf mat that carpeted the ground.

“A voice I know,” Truth said. “A wolf I know. Where there is the one, then the other.”

Her head lifted and her nostrils widened, her mouth opening slightly as was the way with cats when attempting to catch the purest scent.

Firekeeper moved to where the wind would carry her scent to the jaguar. One hand hovered in the vicinity of her Fang, in case upon catching her scent the jaguar attacked. After all, the mutterings Powerful Tenderness had reported had not been precisely kind.

Truth sniffed intently, as if trying to catch a scent weeks old rather than fresh and within the length of her own tail. Thinking how the sound of Blind Seer’s howl had helped Truth to focus, Firekeeper spoke.

“I am here, Truth, me, the wolf-bitch you called for. Firekeeper. Blind Seer is here with me. True, the sun yet sleeps, but surely you can catch our scents.”

Truth shook her head, hard, as if there was a flea biting her ear, and when next she looked at Firekeeper, the wolf-woman could swear the burnt-orange eyes actually focused on who stood before her. There was something odd about that gaze as well. There was moonlight, but as the moon was on the wane, her light served little. Even so, Truth’s pupils were slit, as if she stood in brilliant daylight.

“Truth,” Firekeeper said, “you asked for me and I came. Where is this door that I might open it for you?”

Now she was certain the jaguar was aware of her.

“Here,” Truth said, “not there. You cannot open the door from there, even though it stands before you.”

“How might I find it?”

Truth did not reply, but Firekeeper had the distinct and unsettling feeling that the jaguar was listening to something—perhaps to someone.

After a long pause, Truth said, “Do you remember the house that was no longer a house? The place that had been made to go away?”

Firekeeper was puzzled, but Blind Seer’s ears perked and he said, “I do. It was on the island where we spent most of the winter, out at the southern tip. We went there with Rascal when Moon Frost and Dark Death were unpleasant to be around. Rascal fell in a hole or we’d never have known there had been a building there.”

“I remember,” Firekeeper said. “We wondered at the time if it could even be termed a ruin, as it had been broken down by other than time.” She returned her attention to the jaguar. “We know the place, Truth, but what is it to you?”

Truth lashed her tail. “That is where I am.”

“Truth, you are here before me on Center Island. I see you clearly.”

Truth’s tale lashed faster, whipping side to side, but the jaguar kept her gaze tightly fixed on the pair before her. “I am there, I tell you. There is the door that can be opened to let me free. I cannot open it. He cannot open it, but if you come from the outside, you can open it and I can go free.”

He?
Firekeeper thought. Then she realized what the jaguar’s fragmented words had meant. Truth must have been referring to Blind Seer, for if the jaguar couldn’t open the door, it was unlikely that a wolf could.

Truth had begun pacing now, and her words were more fragmented. “Bring me with you, else I am lost. Bring me. I know the door.”

After that there was nothing sensible to be gotten out of the jaguar—if, Firekeeper thought, they had gotten any sense so far. Powerful Tenderness rolled back the rock, and once the wolves were outside they told him everything they had learned.

“You are sure you know this place of which Truth spoke?” he said at last. “Misheemnekuru is covered with ruined houses.”

“I think so,” Blind Seer said. “We have looked at many ruins, but this place was different. The others had crumbled from neglect—and maybe because the humans left behind wished to spoil their masters’ nests. This one had been wiped away as cleanly as if it had never been built. Even the cellars had been filled with dirt, but the dirt had settled some through time and storm, creating the pit into which Rascal fell.”

Firekeeper nodded. “Truth did not disagree when Blind Seer described the location. I think this is the place she meant. What I don’t understand is how she could say she is there. She is here—right on the other side of that wall. We have seen her and smelled her.”

Powerful Tenderness grubbed in the dirt with his bearclawed hands. “Perhaps Truth is both here and there. We have spoken of her wandering mind. Remember those water droplets?”

“I do,” Firekeeper said, “but I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I,” Powerful Tenderness admitted. “Perhaps there is a cave there, under the earth. Maybe Truth has found some old way there. Legends tell how there were sorcerous routes between places, routes closed since the Divine Retribution. Maybe Truth has paced along one of these and come out at these not-ruins. Maybe she cannot drag her entire self out, but thinks that if mind and body were brought to the same place she would be well.”

“What I don’t understand,” Blind Seer said, looking at the curving patterns Powerful Tenderness had drawn in the dirt, “is why Truth wanted Firekeeper. There are many among the beast-souled who have been gifted with hands. Why not ask one of you?”

“That is a puzzle,” Powerful Tenderness said, his cold snake’s eyes warming with curiosity, “and not one I had considered. Would you be more willing to undertake this if I went with you? I would not wish you to think that we would ask you to go where we were afraid to travel.”

“You would be welcome,” Firekeeper said politely, “but we have never doubted you meant us well.”

Blind Seer snorted very softly, and Powerful Tenderness pretended not to hear. Firekeeper knew that Blind Seer was weary of people who wanted Firekeeper to do things that they could not. He would have been reassured by Powerful Tenderness’s offer.

“Night is ending,” Firekeeper said to the towering beast-souled, “and you have gone long without rest. Blind Seer and I will go and hunt, then rest ourselves. Perhaps next evening we can meet and talk this over more.”

“And what of Truth?” Powerful Tenderness asked.

“Truth has waited this long,” Firekeeper said firmly. “She can wait a little longer.”

“YOU WANT TO DO THIS THING,” Blind Seer said once they were away and sure of being alone. “Why? What is Truth to us that we should go to such trouble for her? Surely you don’t expect thanks from a jaguar.”

“Curiosity again, I suppose,” Firekeeper admitted with a sigh. “And gratitude preys on me. Without Truth risking herself, I would not have been able to stop Shivadtmon. As it was, I was nearly too late. As Hope said, Truth was wounded in that battle, the same as others. I could not help Sky or Questioner, but I may be able to help Truth.”

Blind Seer bumped against her, the wolf’s equivalent of a hug. “A year and more gone, and those deaths still hurt.”

“They do,” Firekeeper admitted. “Questioner’s most of all. I had so much to learn from him. I feel like a small fire was kindled then blown out. There’s ash in my mouth, dry and bitter.”

“Then we go,” Blind Seer said. He gave a long, shuddering sigh. “I may not have a diviner’s talent, but I think that when we leave Center Island, we will be setting our feet on a longer road than we know.”

“FIREKEEPER WILL DECIDE to go where Truth has asked,” Powerful Tenderness reported confidently to the gathered maimalodalum the next morning. “I will go with them. Firekeeper and Blind Seer lack the physical power to restrain Truth if the jaguar gets the desire to do something foolish—or violent. Will someone else come to share shifts with me?”

There was nervous shuffling among the group, for most of the maimalodalum rarely left Center Island. What had begun as a long-ago precaution had become habit with the force of tradition behind it. Selfpreservation had originated the precaution, and fear maintained it.

The maimalodalum were not cowards, but they knew too well that the unfamiliar bred fear. As each of them was a unique monstrosity, they knew they would always be unfamiliar. Until recently, the humans on the mainland had not known they even existed. Even now, only a few shared the secret. Overall the Wise Beasts were more tolerant, but the yarimaimalom’s own precautions against inbreeding made some of them less than kind when confronted with monsters.