Wolf's Blood (18 page)

Enigma had been waiting to open the gate for them. Tiniel was positive the puma had said something to Firekeeper. The wolf-woman’s dark eyes had narrowed and her posture had undergone a subtle shift, becoming guarded and tense as it had not before.

However, Firekeeper did not offer any explanation and Tiniel was too proud to ask. When he had learned that Firekeeper and Blind Seer would be accompanying the trading party, he hadn’t known whether to be offended or relieved. Derian had made clear that Tiniel was in charge of the expedition, that Firekeeper was simply along for what help she could offer.

Tiniel remembered his and Isende’s first journey out to the stronghold, how they’d stood long watches night after night out of fear that their fire wouldn’t keep the wild animals away, how one night despite their care a couple of raccoons had gotten into the food they’d packed for the trail. How they’d had to dig into the dry meat and flour they’d brought for the winter far earlier than expected, how that would have made for short rations if the yarimaimalom had not undertaken to feed them. Remembering all of this, knowing how much relied upon the supplies he was supposed to get, Tiniel was glad for the protection the wolves would offer.

But Tiniel couldn’t get out of his mind the idea that Firekeeper was coming along not only to protect him and the two u-Chivalum who were accompanying him, but also to spy on him, to make certain he wouldn’t do or say anything foolish, that he and the others would return.

As if I’d abandon Isende,
Tiniel thought scornfully
. As if I’d leave her to Derian. And what do Gak or any of the city-states have to offer me? Isende and I sold everything we had to stock our first expedition. I’m not about to throw myself on the charity of my relatives.

And thinking this. Tiniel would realize his suspicions that Firekeeper was there to watch him as well as protect him were foolish, but his lack of trust in her—for she was Derian’s ally—never left him.

Once they arrived in Gak, Tiniel was very careful to play by the rules established on the Nexus Islands. He said nothing about the gates, told and embroidered upon the tale of his and Isende’s struggle to survive. He even praised the efforts of Harjeedian and the others in helping them make preparations for the winter.

The two u-Chivalum were quickly accepted as Liglimom. Their odd accent and twists of phrasing might not have let them pass in Liglim itself, but Gak was far enough from the border that not many Liglimom were seen. Those residents who were descended from former residents of Liglim already found the strictly theocratic Liglimom odd enough to dismiss any further oddities.

Tiniel handled the trading with what he thought was praiseworthy efficiency, but even when alone in some closed room with a merchant, or in a fountain-bedecked courtyard, he did not let a single word slip about any of those things the Nexans had vowed to keep secret. Spring in Gak meant open windows, and open windows meant that nothing said within those rooms was truly secret—at least not from birds, and Tiniel knew that Firekeeper could speak to yarimaimalom birds as easily as she could speak to Blind Seer.

Nor did he particularly wish to tell. His return to Gak was far more pleasant than he had expected, but it also reminded him of the insults he felt had been done to him and his family. His maternal grandmother was kindly condescending. Other relatives hinted delicately at “opportunities” they Would make for Tiniel and Isende should they wish to return. After his time first on the Setting Sun land grant, then on the Nexus Islands, those offers sounded remarkably like thinly disguised opportunities to enter indentured servitude. By the time the trading was completed and the wagons were heavily loaded with grain, cooking oil, iron, and other necessary supplies, Tiniel turned the lead horse’s head in the direction of what he now realized was “home.”

Firekeeper’s taciturnity upon their first encounter with Enigma renewed many of Tiniel’s earlier insecurities about the motives behind sending him away. Nor were these insecurities helped by the people who were present to greet them on their return. Isende was waiting, which was a pleasure. Kalyndra was also present, doubtless on gate watch. Derian came striding up the hillside He had probably been notified as soon as Enigma activated the gate on the mainland side. Others arrived soon after, so Tiniel never got a chance to reassure himself that Isende hadn’t done anything irreversible while he was away.

The transit made the horses fractious, so they were left on the mainland under Eshinarvash’s care. The Wise Horse had apparently been there for several days. waiting, and, incidentally, fattening noticeably on the spring grazing.

Since bringing the fully loaded wagons through without the horses was impossible (although, annoyingly, Firekeeper proved able to push through a quite heavily loaded wagon) Tiniel wasn’t surprised that many people arrived to help reload and haul the bundles. However, he soon realized that many of these people had not been summoned for this particular job. They’d been in the vicinity of the gates all along.

Isende explained as she worked, moving and stacking.

“The gates are suddenly active again. I mean, it’s not that Ynamynet and Skea didn’t warn us that spring would see the demand for the nexus rising, but this is sort of different. Somebody comes through. Whoever—usually Skea or one of the other Nexans who speaks a couple of languages and who wouldn’t be a stranger to the new arrival—explains the gates are out of service for now.

“What’s interesting is that usually the gate goes quiet for a couple of hours or sometimes days, then someone else pops through, like he or she’s checking out what the first person said. They get the same answer, and because they can’t get through the iron barrier, they turn around. Sometimes there’s a third check, and then whoever is on watch on our side gets pretty severe with them.”

“Pretty severe?” Tiniel asked.

“Usually making clear that if there’s any more of this, whoever comes through won’t get a chance to go home again. You know the iron barrier makes it hard for the Once Dead to do the return spell anyhow.”

Tiniel did. Iron affected spellcasting, although not talents. He didn’t know why. Maybe because talents were internal, while spells were an effort to make magic external. What he had possessed—what he and Isende had possessed—had been more in the light of a talent, but Isende had hinted just once (at least once in his hearing) that she thought she might have some hint of a magical ability remaining after her battle with querinalo.

Tiniel had nothing. He often brooded about this, but today the urgency in Isende’s voice kept him focused on her words.

“What is really unsettling is that Skea and Wort both swear that some of the more recent of what we’ve come to think of as scouting transits have been by people coming through the wrong gates.”

“You mean they’ve found a way to link the gates without using the Nexus Islands?” Tiniel asked. “I thought that was impossible.”

“We still think it’s impossible,” Isende assured him, “though that was the first thought lots of people had here, too. What makes more sense is that the various lands that possess gates have been in contact with each other, comparing notes. One of the first of these odd transits was from the gate to the Kingdom of the Mires, and Skea recognized the person making the transit as a Once Dead from Hearthome, the kingdom to the Mires’ northern border.”

“I see,” Tiniel said, shifting a sack of oats. They’d been high on the list of purchases because they could double as both human and horse feed. “They’ve talked to each other. That makes sense. And they’re checking each other’s stories while they’re about it.”

“That’s what we think,” Isende agreed.

Tiniel hoped that her constant use of “we” meant the Nexans, not her and somebody specific, someone like Derian. He’d never before found the way couples talked about things in the plural disconcerting. After all, he’d always been part of a pair. Lately, however, he found himself listening to Isende’s speech for any clue that she might have begun to think of herself as someone else’s partner. He wasn’t sure, but …

“And what are
we
doing?” Tiniel asked, watching to see if there was anything peculiar in Isende’s reaction.

“We’ve put more watchers on, for one,” Isende said, without the least twitch. “There are three basic languages we need to deal with, and happily Skea speaks two of the three well, and the other passably. However, he can’t be on watch all the time. Nor can he be two places at once, and there have been a couple of times, recently, that more than one gate has gone off at the same time. Moreover, we’re trying …”

This time Isende did pause, and Tiniel wondered if more than the weight of her latest burden was the reason, and if he did indeed see a touch of rose beneath her tan.

“We’re trying,” Isende said, lowering her voice slightly, “to make sure that someone from the mainland is here, to balance. The yarimaimalom help, but only Plik could translate for them when Firekeeper was away and Eshinarvash was on the mainland. Plik can talk directly to the Beasts, then to us, but Eshinarvash can only speak to Derian or to Plik. The entire thing gets complicated, and tiring. We need mainland humans here just to make sure we don’t miss anything. There’s only you and me and Harjeedian and Derian … and Firekeeper, if she’s around and paying attention. And I guess Plik counts as more or less human in this, but Plik is already stretched thin doing translations.”

Tiniel could believe relying on the translated reports of the yarimaimalom could be difficult and confusing. Beasts perceived things differently than did humans—and not simply because their sensory organs were different. Depending on the species, the various beasts assigned different levels of importance to different actions. A wolf, for example, would automatically notice hierarchical posturing a crow would not. A raven would be sensitive to equipment and attire, especially if there was anything particularly flashy or colorful, but wolves wouldn’t notice gear unless it was used against them.

Tiniel also didn’t need to have explained to him the reason the mainlanders were concerned about placing too much trust in the Nexans. So far. the Nexans seemed to rather like their new rulers or bosses or whatever it was the small mainland contingent constituted—especially in contrast to the Spell Wielders.

For one thing, none of the mainlanders ever asked for enforced donation of blood to power their spells. For another, Derian and Harjeedian wanted allies, not subjects. However, five moonspans was a short time in which to build trust, especially now that the worst memories of the Spell Wielders’ rule had been mitigated.

Tiniel had been a prisoner of the Spell Wielders, had nearly lost his life at their hands, and he wasn’t about to forget how dangerous they could be.

“Count me in as a watcher,” he said promptly, and was rewarded by the warmth of Isende’s smile.

“Thanks,” she said. Then she immediately dampened his pleasure by adding, “I’ll tell Derian at dinner. He usually eats the same time I do. Unless you’re planning on joining us? Then you can tell him yourself.”

Tiniel couldn’t decide whether the note he heard in her voice was hope that he might break his isolation or hope that he woutdn’t—that he would leave her to dine with Derian.

“I hadn’t really decided,” he said sulkily.

“Join us,” Isende urged, and again his heart did that rise and crash. “Everyone will love hearing about your adventures on the mainland. We’re starved for news of any sort.”

“Right,” Tiniel said. “I’ll remember that.”

A swarm of would-be bearers arrived about then, and opportunity for private conversation vanished. Even as Tiniel answered the questions showered on him from all sides, he noticed an added advantage to be garnered from taking watch up on the gateway hills. The raised elevations gave a great view of most of the island, including most of the residences, most especially Derian’s residence.

From here he could keep an eye on Isende’s comings and goings, watch over her, just like a brother should. Watch, and wait, and learn.

And, maybe, do.

FIREKEEPER DIDN’T MUCH like unloading and hauling, but she had learned that people noticed if she didn’t do her part. Unlike the days on the trail when she and Blind Seer might claim to be hunting or scouting—and thus acting for the good of all—here there was no such excuse to avoid the repetitive labor. Moreover. people didn’t admire her for shirking, and Firekeeper was too much wolf to court the disdain of those who she couldn’t help but think of as her pack.

But she minimized being part of the shouting, chattering mob for as long as possible by doing her share from the mainland side of the gate. After all, someone had to unload the wagons and shift the heavy bundles to where they could be hauled through the gate.

Only when the last heavy load needed to be pulled through did she cross onto the Nexus Islands. As she had hoped, much of the fuss had died down by then, and what remained was focused on delight in the supplies rather than on those who had brought them.

Firekeeper shifted bundle after bundle onto the donkey cart, and when the last one was loaded, considered her part done. She was about to alert Blind Seer that she was ready to slip away when Derian came over to her.

“Before you go and hide,” he said, “I wanted to talk with you.”

Firekeeper blew her breath out in a gusty sigh. “The sun is high. I am hot. I hoped to sleep.”

“Sleep then,” Derian said, half turning away. “I’ll tell you about the maimalodalum’s message later.”

Had Derian been a wolf. Firekeeper would have flung herself against him as if to physically beat the news from him, but humans were not as fond of rough play as wolves, so she restrained herself.

“Tell!” she said, heat forgotten—in truth, it was not so hot, especially here on the Nexus Islands.

Derian grinned. “Wait for me at my house. You can start your resting there, and I’ll come when I’ve finished supervising the stowing of the new goods.”

As she followed him to the storehouse buildings—for Firekeeper knew perfectly well that her strength and determination would move the job along more swiftly—Firekeeper fought down a sneaking suspicion that this was precisely what Derian had had in mind. Even so. she went, Blind Seer padding, laughing. at her side.