Wolf Hunting (58 page)

Firekeeper again,
Derian thought.
Wolves howl, and she remembered that humans can shout. This whole thing about the gates has made me forget my common sense. I expected guards, but not something as simple as one of our prisoners calling for help once he was on his own turf.

Derian took no chances with Verul. Even hobbled and with his hands behind him, the man was big and obviously muscular.

“Sit down,” Derian suggested gently. “The faster this is done, the faster you’ll get that uncomfortable thing out of your mouth.”

Done one way or another,
Verul’s glower seemed to say, but he sat where Derian had indicated, leaning back against the masonry wall, and remaining ostentatiously still.

Skea and Lovable came through next. Derian indicated that Skea should sit some distance from Verul, but where he could keep an eye on them both.

Lachen and Eshinarvash made the transit next, and Eshinarvash made amply clear that he would keep his burden.

“Harder for him to cause trouble up there, eh?” Dorian said. He still felt odd about scratching another person behind his ears, but Eshinarvash angled his head in obvious invitation, so Derian gave in.

Harjeedian and Night’s Terror came through next.

“We sped up the intervals,” Harjeedian explained as the owl not so much flew as drifted noiselessly out to join the other avian scouts. “We feared that this much gate activity would alert someone sensitive to those ‘ripples’ of which the Meddler spoke.”

“The wolves and ravens send no word that this is so,” Derian said. “In any case, even if someone detected activity, would they necessarily think it was trouble? Only their people use these gates. I think they’ll just figure that for some reason their New World party has come back.”

“I hope so,” Harjeedian said, his gaze fixed on where Truth was emerging from the molten glow.

The aridisdu’s expression held mingled fascination and revulsion, emotions Derian shared, for the implications of this nearly instantaneous transit were enough to frighten any sane person. Yet, there were more immediate problems with which Derian could distract himself.

Derian was all too aware that the time for leaving this relatively safe place was coming, and he wondered at his own bravado in volunteering to help rescue the yarimaimalom. Certainly, if he hadn’t said anything he would have been left on guard here.

“Firekeeper is taking quite a while,” Derian said, for more time had passed since Harjeedian’s arrival than had between that of the last several groups.

“Perhaps something must be done to close the gate properly from that side,” Harjeedian said uneasily. “I never thought to ask.”

As one they glanced at their captives, but three sets of eyes and three jaws locked over their gags made amply clear that now that they were on their own side of the gate, the prisoners would offer no more advice.

We expected that
, Derian thought.
But where is Firekeeper? What could be keeping her?

“NOW, US,” Firekeeper said to Ynamynet, when Truth had passed through the gate. “You cut you or do you want me to?”

Ynamynet folded her arms across her chest.

“I’m not going to do it,” she said. “Why should I? My people are back where they should be, and you are here without allies. You can kill me if you’d like, but you cannot make me open the gate so you may pass through and bring your violence to ruin the nexus project.”

Firekeeper stared at the Once Dead for a moment unbelieving.

She held up her Fang, which she had been about to use to prick her own finger, in a wordless threat.

“threaten me all you want,” Ynamynet said. “You may find I have a greater ability to resist torture than you believe. There are many mysteries involved in my art, and not all of them are learned without pain.”

Firekeeper had little stomach for the methodical torment involved in torture. Wolves killed their prey as cleanly as they could, not toying with it as cats did.

She was honest enough to admit that there was no great code of honor that had initiated that particular behavior. It was simply that a wolf pack’s kill belonged to all the pack, and the one who brought the animal down usually got the first good bite. Therefore, there was no advantage to delay. Cats, however, killed for themselves alone, and if they found added amusement in prolonging the kill, there was no reason for them not to do so.

Firekeeper did not think that Ynamynet was bluffing. She scented excitement mingled with defiance in the woman’s sweat, but very little fear.

“I must go through,” Firekeeper said. “Blind Seer waits. The others need me to lead. Open the gate.”

Ynamynet shook her head. Little wisps of hair that projected from beneath her close-fitting cap clung to the suddenly damp skin of her face.

“I won’t open it, and there’s nothing you can do to make me. Nothing at all. You’re stuck here. And let me tell you why I’m so determined to hold out. I think you’re absolutely right. I think they need you to lead them. Harjeedian might have done all the talking, but he’s no war leader. In a fight, you would lead. The longer your friends flounder around waiting for you to show up, the longer my people have to notice something is wrong. Our community isn’t huge, but it’s large enough to deal with that handful you’ve stranded there. When the fighting is over, they’ll ask Lachen or one of the Twice Dead, and then they’ll send for me.”

“Ynamynet’s right you know,” said a voice from over by the well. The Meddler, more translucent than ever he had appeared in one of these waking visions, stood leaning against the mortared stone.

Ynamynet started, her momentary arrogance vanishing. She didn’t seem to see the Meddler at first. Then her eyes narrowed as she focused on the translucent image. Firekeeper wondered what the Once Dead saw. She doubted it was the same wolf-headed human with which she herself had become unwillingly familiar.

“Once Dead Ynamynet is correct,” the Meddler said. “The others cannot succeed without you. You are the One who gives that pack direction. What are you going to do?”

Firekeeper was not to be toyed with. She didn’t know if the Meddler had the gift of foretelling the future, but as his predictions matched her own, she saw no reason to argue.

“You have some thought—some plan. Tell. Time is going.”

The Meddler grinned a wolf’s grin that showed his fangs and was as much challenge as expression of amusement. “Very well, my dear, direct Firekeeper. You need the gate to be opened a final time. No one but a sorcerer can do this. The one you had counted on has refused. By the way, you should have kept Lachen, he’s much less intelligent and not nearly as strong-willed. Ynamynet says she will not give way before torture. She may be wrong about her ability to resist pain, but you don’t have time for the extended process that would prove this.”

“You talk too much,” Firekeeper growled.

The Meddler’s grin vanished and his ears flattened slightly. “Very well. You need a sorcerer. I know a sorcerer who will work the spell—for a price.”

“Who?”

“Why, myself of course.”

Firekeeper considered this. She should have known. “What is the price?”

“A favor, to be redeemed later, at the time of my choice.”

“Favor?”

“Something from you to me, nothing more. I will swear in advance that I won’t involve another in any way, nor will I ask you to kill someone. I won’t even ask you to stand by and let me kill someone. All I’ll ask is a favor from you.”

Firekeeper considered. She didn’t trust the Meddler. She suspected he had something underhanded in mind, but she couldn’t think of another way to get through the gate quickly enough.

Ynamynet was staring with rigid fascination at the Meddler. She was obviously frightened, but not so frightened that her resolve to resist casting the spell was about to break.

Moreover, Blind Seer was wherever he had gone without her. He had led trusting she would follow. That alone would have been enough to make Firekeeper accept the Meddler’s offer.

“I give you this favor,” Firekeeper agreed, “as you named it. Me to you. No one else between. Now, open this gate.”

The Meddler’s ears rose and his smile returned. He glanced at Ynamynet.

“Do you wish to take that woman with you? You know you can’t trust her.”

“Can’t leave at back either,” Firekeeper said, “and not know how long will be gone. Would be cruel to leave starve. I bring.”

“I won’t even charge an extra favor for transporting her,” the Meddler said. “Perfectly free of charge. I will suggest that you tie her up.”

“I not need your mind for that,” Firekeeper said. She looked at Ynamynet. “Hands behind back. Fight me, and I will be very happy to hit you hard for the trouble you already cause.”

Ynamynet apparently believed Firekeeper, because she was docility itself when Firekeeper bound and then gagged her.

“You need blood like she do?” Firekeeper asked the Meddler.

“Just the smear on the gate,” the Meddler said. “Now that the gate is primed, that is enough. They didn’t lead you astray in how the spell needed to be prepared.”

“Good,” Firekeeper said.

She saw fear in Ynamynet’s eyes when Firekeeper drew her Fang, but Firekeeper had experienced too much already of torture and terror. She nicked the woman’s forearm then moved her so the blood could flow directly onto the location marked earlier. Her own blood came from a similar spot, chosen so it would not impede her fighting when that time came.

“Ready?” the Meddler asked.

Firekeeper nodded and steered Ynamynet into place. The Once Dead resisted very little. No surprise in that. Ynamynet was going home to friends and allies. Firekeeper was the one who was hurrying into danger, hoping against hope that this delay had not left her with no option but that of seeking revenge for those the flaw in her plan had betrayed into defeat.

XXVIII

FIREKEEPER CAME THROUGH the silver light, hardly feeling the burning that filled her inside and out through the chill certainty that her first sight on the other side would be the dead bodies of her friends. So convinced was she that her worst fears had come true that she hardly recognized Derian’s voice when it spoke to her from a few paces away.

“What kept you so long, Firekeeper?”

The wolf-woman heard her own reply as from a distance, her voice rougher than usual.

“This one. She try a trick. Meddler is better at tricking, though. He bring me through. Is all well?”

Derian looked as if he wanted to ask for details, but her question reminded him of the urgency of their situation. He would continue wondering, though. Derian was smart, and he had heard the stories about the Meddler. Yes. He would wonder.

Well, for that matter, so would she.

Derian didn’t ask, though. He took charge of Ynamynet, who went with him with flattering eagerness. While Derian moved Ynamynet to a place near but not too near her companions, he answered Firekeeper’s question.

“I don’t think we’ve been detected. At least none of our scouts returned bleeding or signaling we need to be ready to fight. Beyond that, well, we need you to translate.”

“Then I go ask, tell you and Harjeedian what is where.”

Firekeeper found Blind Seer waiting a few steps into the darkness beyond the doorway. He licked her bloodied arm, but unlike Derian did not ask why she had been delayed. Possibly, he had already heard her explanation. More probably, though, being a wolf he worried less about the past than the present—especially when the present was so very uncertain.

“Onion and Half-Ear have scouted,”
the blue-eyed wolf said,
“and say the kennels are much as they left them. They have snuffled some warning to their kin to exp ect a rescue and have cautioned them to silence.”

The night was quiet, so Firekeeper guessed that the warning had been taken seriously.

“And Plik?”
she asked.

“Lovable is scouting where the others said they thought he might be. She should return very soon.”

“Good”

Firekeeper hugged Blind Seer’s head close to her. Later she would tell him how close she had come to not being able to reach him, but not now. She stroked his head, then turned to go back inside.

“I tell Harjeedian and Derian that they can go now. Eshinarvash and Truth still wish to hold here?”

“More than ever,”
Truth replied from the shadows.
“This island’s air is filled with the reeks of blood and fear. I have no wish to have our one door out of here blocked from our use. The horse and I will guard it well.”

Firekeeper grinned.
“Good. Make sure the humans do not talk to each other, and remember, fingers are very clever at working loose ropes and things.”

Truth coughed a jaguar’s laugh.
“Royal Beasts might forget about fingers and human wit, but those of us who have lived close to humans are too wise to underestimate how very clever they can be. Go now. Tell Derian and Harjeedian what they will need to know.”

Firekeeper did so, drawing the two humans out of earshot of the captives. As she spoke with the two men she noted something. Her sense of smell might not be a match for Blind Seer’s, but it was good enough for her to catch the acrid stink of sweat on both men. The night was cool enough that dread and tension, not heat, must be the source.

“Are you good with this?” she asked, looking from the fair-skinned redhead to the darker-skinned aridisdu—so different to the eye, but alike in sensible fear. “The night is dark. Truth might trade with you.”

Derian shook his head decisively. “I thought about asking, but Truth and Eshinarvash can’t work latches or use keys. The yarimaimalom will need human hands to help them.”

Harjeedian nodded solemn agreement with Derian’s position.

“I also thought about retreating, but what manner of aridisdu would I be if my service to the deities’ messengers stopped when danger was involved? I will go forward as well. Just ask our guides to remember that we do not see as well in the dark as you do.”