Wolf-speaker (20 page)

The sun is
going
, the squirrel replied.

I'm afraid we have to let it go, she said, as kindly as possible. That room with the light in it looks to be the commander's office like the one we visited in the south. We have to wait for him to leave, and that probably won't be till it's time to eat. Look at it this way—at least we're out of the rain.

We're going back to our friends in the
dark
? asked Flicker.

We must.

He sighed. I know you wouldn't ask it of me if
it weren't important. I just
hate
the dark.

The meager daylight was gone and torches were lit when the mess call was sounded. The lamp in the commander's office continued to burn, but the commander emerged to join the flow of men to the mess. Daine and Flicker waited until everyone but the guards in the towers had left the yard, then raced to the headquarters. Swiftly they climbed in the window through an open shutter.

Like its counterpart, this fort had slates with the duty roster nicely laid out in white chalk. I love soldiers, Daine confided to Flicker. They always try to do things the same as every other soldier. She read what was on the board, counting forty soldiers, four corporals, four sergeants, one captain.

More soldiers because of the two-leggers entering this way? asked Flicker.

Has to be, she replied. Come on. Let's get out of here.

Their return took longer than the trip out. Flicker was almost as blind in the dark as a human, and more nervous than Daine had ever seen him. Each rustle and squeak was an owl, a bear, a bush dog, or something worse come to eat him. Daine nursed him along as patiently as she knew how. Flicker had done great things for her, things no squirrel would dream of, and that knowledge kept her gentle when he made one of his many stops to hide. She stayed with him up the face of the ridge
and over its edge, rather than leaving him to do it alone.

He nearly expired when a huge shadow moved and snorted. Hello, squirrel, said Cloud. Bad night?

Flicker sat down against a tree bole, shuddering. It was
terrible
, he told the pony. How can you stand walking in the dark?

Daine knew Cloud would ease the squirrel's shattered nerves if the two were alone, so she thanked Flicker again and left him, to open her eyes in the shelter.

There was no light anywhere, only noises, the sounds of large bodies moving nearby. Nervous, she looked around, ears twitching. Now she could see a little, but what she saw was
not
reassuring. Two monstrous shapes moved just outside the shelter's door, one tall and thin, the other wide across the shoulders and slumped. Between them was a smaller but still big shape.

A whistle by one of her ears nearly deafened her, and a face thrust itself near hers. It was long and sharp-toothed on the end. Large, faintly glowing eyes with catlike pupils looked her over. She squeaked and tried to back away.

The smaller of the big shapes turned, showing a face like a pale blur in the darkness. Its owner crawled toward Daine on hands and knees.

It was very strange to find Maura so much bigger than she was.

“Oh, dear,” the girl said, “Uh—Daine, you, um, you shrank.”

Tell me something I don't know, Daine said: it came out as angry squirrel chatter. She looked at her hands and feet. They were still human, but a fine gray fuzz covered them, and the tips of her nails were now black claws.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember who Daine the human was. It was easier to remember her wolf self, or her bat self. Who was she?

An image appeared before her eyes, a pool of copper fire with a central core of white light. Between core and pool lay a wall of clear power, like glass, flickering with sparks of white and black fire. The white core was her inner self; the sparkling wall was the barrier Numair once put between her self and her magic, to stop her from forgetting her humanity.

Start there, she thought. She found memories of Ma, of Grandda, of the house where she grew up. Next were the Snowsdale humans who tried to kill her for running with wolves. She saw Onua, who gave her work in Galla and a home in Tortall. Here were others who filled important places in her life, a mixed bag of nobles, commoners, warriors, and animals. So
that's
who I am, she thought, pleased to have so much that was good in her human life.

She opened her eyes.

EIGHT

FRIENDS

Maura sat with her back to Daine. “I can't look anymore,” she was saying. “Tell me when she's done.” The nearby, cat-eyed shape was Kitten, who made a questioning sound. Daine lifted the dragon into her lap, then looked at the bigger shapes at the opening of the shelter. One was unmistakably Tkaa. The other was a stranger.

“I'm done,” she announced.

Maura turned and gasped. “You're you! I mean, you were always you, but you were starting to look kind of—squirrelish.”

I'm sorry I missed that, commented Flicker from outside the shelter.

Tkaa said, “It is good you have returned. We have a guest. Iakoju, this is Daine, the human Maura spoke of.”

The stranger nodded. She was an ogre, clad only in a short, ragged tunic in spite of the damp. “Are you cold?” Daine asked. “We have a horse blanket somewhere.” She found one and offered it to the immortal.

“I
said
Daine would welcome her,” Maura informed Tkaa. To Daine she added, “Iakoju's our friend. She wants to help us get rid of Yolane and Tristan.”

Iakoju stared at the blanket, pointed ears twitching back and forth. At last she took it. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and bowed from the waist.

Maura helped the ogre drape the blanket around her shoulders. “She's running away,” the ten-year-old explained.

Placid eyes met Daine's without blinking. Despite skinniness and poor clothes Iakoju was clean, and smelled of soap, earth, and something vaguely spicy. Daine sniffed, trying to identify the spice odor. “Are you eating something?”

Iakoju smiled. “Maura give me candy.”

Maura blushed. “Well, she looked so scared when I found her, and I remembered what you said, about people being mean to them and maybe if somebody was nice…”

There's one for your side, Badger, thought Daine.

“Did you succeed at your mission?” asked Tkaa.

Daine nodded and found her water canteen. Politely she offered it first to Iakoju, who shook her head and held up a gourd water bottle of her own. As Daine drank, Maura said, “Iakoju thinks some of the ogres will help us.”

“Why?” Daine sat by Tkaa, where she could see their guest. Kitten and Flicker joined her, Flicker curling up on one shoulder, Kitten on her lap.

“Stormwings and Tristan lie,” Iakoju said flatly. “They say, come through gate, we give you farms to keep, so we come. Only farms here are rock farms, under ground. We say, don't want mines, where are farms? Tristan say, you farm what we say farm.” She scowled. “Ogres are angry. They send me from valley to find kin clans. Kin clans come help, bashing lying men on the head.”

Flicker yawned and nearly tumbled off Daine's shoulder. She slid him into the crook of her arm and asked, “Didn't you have farms in the Divine Realms?”

Iakoju shook her head. “Too many ogres. No room. We come here for farms.”

Maura frowned. “I don't understand. If you're peaceful—if you really only like to farm—how come you're called ogres'? Ogres are monsters, aren't they? And how come your people are always fighting with ours?”

“We are big,” replied Iakoju quietly. “Ugly. Our color different from men color. No all ogres are same, either. Some take what they want. Some fight with men. My people, kin clans, we only like farming, not fighting. Some ogres only like fighting. Are all men the same?”

“No,” Daine said thoughtfully. “Of course not”

Maura poked the dirt with a stick. “It's a shame the lake's east shore can't be plowed. It's too steep.”

Daine sensed what her young friend had in mind. “The fief is Yolane's. I don't think she'll approve of ogre farms on the east shore.”

“Under law she forfeits her lands for treason,” argued the ten-year-old. “And the fief isn't all hers. Half is mine—Papa willed it to me, and maybe the king would let me keep it. The way it was supposed to be, Yolane would buy my half when it came time for me to marry, so it's my dowry. That's why I got the eastern half. It's mostly uphill, though,” she said with a sigh.

Iakoju's eyes lit. “We make farms. Find ridge, dig out cup, pour in growing dirt. Make small valleys up and down, grow corn, beans, flowers. Peas, herbs—we
like
growing. If ogres help you, will you give us farms?”

“Maura cannot promise,” Tkaa reminded her. “It may be she will lose the land. Her sister, whose holding this is, plots against the Crown.”

“Tkaa's right,” Maura told Iakoju, hanging her head. “I guess I can't promise, not if it might not come true.”

The ogre looked at her, at the basilisk, then at Daine. Her mouth curved in a smile. “Maybe I don't leave Dunlath. I go with you instead. We will talk.”

Daine was about to object, and changed her
mind. The badger's words were still very fresh in her memory. In any event, it couldn't hurt. Before she slept, she wrote a report for Numair, using a glowstone from her belt-purse as her light. Once the report was done, she napped uneasily, dreaming of hurroks.

The company awoke at dawn. The clouds had gone, and the day promised to be lovely. Daine's enjoyment of its beauty was soured by the knowledge that winged patrols would be aloft today. Cloud told her, We had best take another route to the pass, one with lots of trees. Iakoju will stand out like a bear in a puddle.

A nearby stag told Daine of trails lower on the slopes, ones that skirted the mines and lumber camp and passed almost entirely under the trees. She led the way to them with a thank-you to the stag. The tip was a good one. The path was wide and much-used, taking advantage of every bit of cover the forest provided, perfect for much-hunted animals like deer.

As the morning ended, the path took them by the round meadow, past Flicker's tree and the Coldfang statue. Daine passed it with a shudder. Twice since meeting the creature she had awakened with a pounding heart, sweat-damp hair, and the feeling that something icy advanced on her, slowly and relentlessly. She would be glad if she
never
saw another live Coldfang, and it pleased her to leave the
stone one behind. One other fear, that Flicker might choose to stay, faded when the squirrel made no mention of returning to his home.

An hour later she heard an animal's call and signaled for the others to halt. Where are you? she asked. What do you want?

A dog broke from the pines fifty yards ahead and raced up to her. It was the huntsman's head dog, one of the wolfhounds Daine had met at the castle.

Dismounting, she said, “I'm sorry—I didn't get your name, before”

I am Prettyfoot, the dog replied. Daine covered a smile with her hand. It is the name the man gave me, the wolfhound insisted. It is a good name.