Wolf's Blood (14 page)

What language though? Pellish, as used in Hawk Haven? New Kelvinese? Whatever it was the peoples of Stonehold and Waterland spoke? Liglimosh? And if she chose Liglimosh, which form? She understood there was an old form of the language as well as the one currently in use. That was why Harjeedian was closeted with Urgana, because he could read that archaic tongue more easily than she, and it was closer to what some of the records were written in.

Firekeeper sighed, and postponed the decision to learn to read once again. Instead, a day or so after her return from the mainland, she went looking for Derian. He was talking with Tiniel. The two men’s voices were raised loudly enough that Firekeeper didn’t have any trouble overhearing.

They were discussing the much needed supply trip into Gak. Tiniel had been told he was the best person to take charge of such a trip, but rather than being pleased, he was balking. Blind Seer’s nose told him why.

“He reeks like a young buck at rutting time when he knows a rival stag is beyond his ability to challenge. Frustration. Anger. Even a bit of fear.”

“Does Tiniel then wish to be One in Derian’s place?” Firekeeper asked.

“One at least where Isende is concerned,” Blind Seer replied, curling his lip. “This anger of his is as foolish as a pup chasing his tail. Derian has no idea that the woman is sniffing after him.”

“Derian,” Firekeeper said, with more compassion than most of her human friends would have credited her with, “has bruised his feelings on the rock of Rahniseeta’s duty to her deities. Isende would need to beat Derian about the head and shoulders to make him see that she admires him, horse’s ears and all.”

“Sometimes,” Blind Seer said, leaning against Firekeeper to take any sting from his words, “the one who loves is first to see a danger of losing the beloved.”

“Never here,” Firekeeper said fiercely, knowing the blue-eyed wolf needed reassurance. “Never here.”

Blind Seer mouthed her arm affectionately, and the two wolves listened to the conversation inside Derian’s house for a while longer. They were more comfortable together since their run to speak with the mainland Beasts. Learning that once again secrets were being kept from them had renewed their awareness that when it came to a fight each could count on the other.

“They speak of us,” Blind Seer said after a while, “as escort for Tiniel.”

“Perhaps,” Firekeeper said. “I like our plan for what we do next better. Let us see what Derian thinks. Tiniel is coming out now,” Firekeeper added after a few more words were exchanged within. “Do we let him see us?”

“I think so,” Blind Seer said, “but perhaps not that we have been here so long. If we walk as if we are just arriving …”

They did this. Plik would not have been fooled, and not just because his nose would have told him they had been in the area longer than their location and attitude would admit. Elise would not have been fooled, because she knew Firekeeper, but Tiniel, immersed in his own feelings, was hardly of a mind to note the coincidence of their timely arrival.

Neglecting to knock, Firekeeper led the way into Derian’s front room. Once he would not have heard their coming, but his horse’s ears heard better, and one swiveled independently to track their coming.

“How many times,” Derian said, “must I remind you to knock?”

“The door was open,” Firekeeper said, “when Tiniel go. What is there to knock on?”

“The frame,” Derian said.

He looked very tired, and Firekeeper thought that running a human pack must be more difficult than being One of a wolf pack. She had rather enjoyed her own year as One of a pack on Misheemnekuru. Sometimes she dreamed of those green islands, her heart twisting with longing.

“I have an idea,” Firekeeper said. “For helping with Urgana search.”

“I have an idea, too,” Derian said, “for a solution to more immediate problems. You go first.”

Firekeeper nodded. “Here, in this place, I am no good. Why not Blind Seer and I run to Misheemnekuru and ask the maimalodalum to do what Urgana do here? Harjeedian can write paper telling them why they should do this in keeping with deities and Divine Retribution and all those things.”

Derian considered. “That might work, but why do you need to make the run?”

Firekeeper blinked. “To bring message, and convince if can.”

“If we’re going to have Harjeedian write out an message, why not simply send a letter containing our request?”

Firekeeper felt stupid. Blind Seer sniggered. She had a feeling the wolf had already thought of this, but had known how much she wanted to run, to do something, and so had forborne from comment.

“A letter has another advantage,” Derian said, thoughtfully. “Arguing with a letter is impossible. Let’s see … Why would we want to know about when Divine Retribution first occurred? We don’t want to tell them we’ve encountered it, even in a less potent form. We certainly aren’t ready to tell them about the gates.”

Blind Seer said
, “The maimalodalum have long kept vigil against the return of the Old World rulers. What if we said that we had encountered omens that that return might be coming, and sought to understand the illness or curse that had sent them away?”

Firekeeper translated.

“That has potential.” Derian said. “Another thing, something we should have considered earlier. If we don’t tell the maimalodalum that we have encountered querinalo, then they don’t need to know we are attempting to find a means to resist it. This means that they should not have the same qualms as Urgana. Therefore. Harjeedian’s theological expertise will not be necessary.”

“Maybe so.” Firekeeper admitted. “And omens is thing the Liglimom—and in this the maimalodalum think like Lighmom—omens is thing in which they put much belief.”

“I’ll consult Plik as to the best approach,” Derian said. “After all, the maimalodalum are his people. He may have better suggestions as to how to most easily learn what we need. Meanwhile, if you’re in need of a run, I have a good one for you.”

Quickly, Derian explained the need to make a trip into Gak, concluding, “Tiniel has been resisting. I think he wants Isende to go with him, but she thinks it would be wiser if one of them remains here. Otherwise, how can they maintain the pretense that they have succeeded in making something of the old stronghold? Farms aren’t left alone, even for a day.”

Firekeeper had listened to enough other discussions to know that Derian and Harjeedian had decided to minimize awareness of the northerners’ continued residency lest that start speculation on what there could be in the isolated stronghold to keep them there. She didn’t think this an unnecessary precaution at all. When it came to twisting the mind around useless questions, she had yet to meet any creatures as adept as humans.

Derian went on. “I think we finally have Tiniel convinced that making the supply run is his duty. In fact, once I pointed out to him that this would be his opportunity to strut before those who had scorned him. he was almost eager. We’re going to send two of the Old World Liglim along to help with the animals and loading and unloading and such. They’re to keep to the background, and. if asked, Tiniel is to represent them as non-religious associates of Harjeedian.”

“Is wise, to let go?” Firekeeper asked.

“We’re going to need to do so sometime.” Derian said. “You’re not the only one to find these islands confining, my friend. Remember, most of those who came to live here did so with the understanding that they could come and go to any of the lands where there was an active gate. Until we figure out how to restore trade through the Nexus Islands without inviting either invasion or betrayal, they’re stuck with either staying on the islands or visiting the area around the Setting Sun stronghold. Humans are a bit like horses or wolves. They need the company of their own kind. This is a start, a promise.”

“Is company here on island.” Firekeeper pointed out.

“True, but the same faces day in and out … that can be hard for people who are accustomed to having access to many different peoples and places.”

Firekeeper didn’t argue. Wolves were indeed social creatures. Warmer weather and easier hunting invited mingling and socializing. Often the packs that rejoined when autumn shifted into winter were markedly different from those who had parted for the summer.

Blind Seer said,
“Ask Derian if we will be expected to help with the trading?”

Firekeeper did, and Derian shook his head, broadly, as a horse would.

“Not in the least. Tiniel is going to get some coaching, and we’ll just need to hope he doesn’t spend too freely. Your job will be to make certain that he and the others get through safely, and that no one decides not to come back. One reason for sending those who share kinship with the Liglim is that they will respect you and Blind Seer.”

Firekeeper nodded. The Liglimom certainly did respect animals, taking omens from the actions of even dumb cousins. When their Old World rulers had come to the New World and discovered the Wise Beasts, the foundations of the religious practices upon which they based both their lives and their government had been adapted and the contributions of the Wise Beasts had been greatly honored.

Judging from Urgana’s reaction when she had learned that some of the Spell Wielders had been abusing the yarimaimalom, this respect had passed into the Old World traditions before contact between the lands had been severed.

Idly, Firekeeper wondered if any of the yarimaimalom had journeyed to the Old World, and what had happened to them if they had done so.

Derian was speaking. “So tell me you’ll go, and don’t make me talk you around to my point of view. I’ve done enough of that with Tiniel.”

Firekeeper considered, tilting her head to one side. As much as she would rather go to Liglim and then to Misheemnekuru, Derian’s arguments were all good ones. She didn’t think the maimalodalum would be able to get her to tell about the gates or about querinalo, but what if she slipped up and said something that gave them a hint?

“I go,” she said. “I go with Tiniel, and get supplies.”

Derian smiled. “Thank you. That is a genuine relief.”

Firekeeper shrugged. “Is what you say. Wolves is pack. We go and help with this hunting.”

“Do what you can to hurry Tiniel along,” Derian said. “In the seven or eight days since Skea told us about that Amelo Soapwort, the gates are suddenly getting more use, and not just the gate to the Kingdom of the Mires, gates from other lands as well.”

Firekeeper nodded. “I hear about this when I come back from mainland.”

Derian sighed. “Harjeedian and I have checked the records, and spring is one of the times that gates have always seen the most use. I should have thought of it—carter’s son that I am. Winter is actually a good time for hauling, especially once snow falls and the roads are packed for easy sledding. Spring comes and brings rains that turn the roads to mud.”

Firekeeper thought of their second trip to New Kelvin, when the toll roads had been frozen. She had seen how easily even kegs of wine and heavy chunks of building stone had been moved then, the draft horses hardly raising a sweat. Spring, though, that season of wet and mud, was indeed a difficult time for travel, at least human-style travel. She would need to remember this when they were escorting Tiniel and not roam too far lest a wagon needed to be lifted from a rut.

Derian straightened, perhaps hearing a note of frustration in his voice. “So far our defenses have worked fine. None of the Once Dead has made it through, and most have struggled even to work the spell to take them back to their home. We don’t need to worry about them coming through and working some dire enchantment on our guards.”

Firekeeper nodded. She’d seen for herself how those guards took extra care to stand clear of the cages around the gates. Skea’s instructions were not being ignored.

Derian grinned. “Enigma, however, apparently decided our current forces were not sufficient. He took it upon himself to go recruit a few more yarimaimalom to stand watch here. Don’t mistake me. I’m grateful. Beasts are infinitely more useful after dark than humans are, but having them here does put a strain on the supplies. Chaker Torn says that if he had the means to repair his nets and lines, he could do more fishing. That would help, at least with feeding the great cats and the eagles. We still need hay to tide us over until we can cut the meadows around the stronghold. At least half a moonspan should pass before we can cut, and then the hay should dry or we’ll be risking the horses getting colic.”

He went on, planning aloud to cover these contingencies and more, the wolf-woman half forgotten except as a friendly ear.

Firekeeper looked at her friend, feeling something like pity for him, but that wolves never pitied the One, only respected and admired him. So much to think about, so much to have ready. Spring was hardly unfolding her leaves, and Derian was looking ahead to winter.

She offered the only comfort, the only promise of support she could give.

“I make sure Tiniel come back here with all quickness.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Derian said. “We need his help, and he’s not a bad fellow when one gets past the sulking. He’s just confused and out of his element. As if this is any of our element,” he added, his voice soft.

“We not hurt Tiniel,” Firekeeper promised.

“Why should we?”
Blind Seer said, panting laughter
. “Sometimes howls will drive the deer more surely than any number of nips on the flank. All we need to do to hurry Tiniel home is remind him that Isende is here with Derian.”

THEY DIDN’T DEPART for Gak until several days later. Tiniel’s skills at bartering were limited, because in the days when he and Isende could feel each other’s moods, they had developed an elaborate system where Isende would stand where the merchant could not see she was watching, and then she would judge whether Tiniel was really offering too little, or whether the merchant was just hoping to get more. Without that crutch, Tiniel’s abilities were limited.

As little as Tiniel liked being coached by Derian, he seemed to like less the idea of seeming a fool. Then there were complexities Firekeeper couldn’t quite follow having to do with the fact that the Nexans had decided that it would be unwise for Tiniel to have too much coin with which to make his purchases—not because anyone thought he would steal it, but because Tiniel and Isende had spent most of their personal fortune to outfit their initial, catastrophic (although no one in Gak was to know this) venture to their ancestral landholding.