Wolf's Blood (25 page)

“Why are you saving that?” Blind Seer asked as they trotted up the trail.

“The maimalodalum might have some use for it,” Firekeeper said. “It is woven fabric, and that takes work to make.”

Blind Seer huffed his agreement. A few moments later, a twitch of an ear and a slightly lifted muzzle told Firekeeper the blue-eyed wolf had spotted something. She looked but saw nothing but the clusters of evening shadows, bluish grey and faded tan beneath the spreading spring foliage.

“Wolf,” Blind Seer said softly. “Tenacity or Integrity, I think, but they are downwind and the scent is faint.”

Firekeeper nodded. Tenacity and Integrity led the local pack, but they were not kin to Blind Seer and Firekeeper as were the pack the pair had just left. It would be natural for them to wait and watch before offering greeting.

Within a few paces, Firekeeper saw a low-slung branch swaying where no wind could move it. Then Tenacity stepped forth. His head—too broad between the ears, and too heavy for his neck—was momentarily held high in greeting, while his ears pricked in welcome.

“We heard of your coming,” he said. “I am here to give you leave to hunt in our territory, then I return to my mate. We have pups this year, and they are nearly new whelped so she stays with them. It falls to me to lead the hunt without her.”

“Thank you for your welcome,” Firekeeper said. “If our business with the maimalodalum permits, perhaps we may join your hunting.”

Tenacity’s tail, like his head, heavier than his body should bear, moved in a slow arc. Wolves do not wag their tails like dogs do, nor hold them high, but they do use them to express their moods.

“You and Blind Seer are mighty hunters and would be welcome. Sing and we will hear.”

The wolf vanished into the underbrush as silently as he had come, and Firekeeper looked after him, wondering if the pups Integrity had borne were his, or some other’s. Like her mate, Integrity showed the marks of the long-ago inbreeding. In her this showed in the form of extra toes upon her feet, oversized ears, and a ragged coat. Yet the pair’s last litter had seemed healthy, arguing that they had not mated, for surely that would have passed on the traits they both carried.

Firekeeper shook the puzzle from her, deciding that Elise’s new baby was making her far too interested in other people’s matings, but her free hand brushed against Blind Seer’s back, refusing to let her deny the wellspring of her thoughts.

Here and there bird or beast greeted them as they climbed the long slope that led to the ruined temples wherein now dwelled the maimalodalum. When Firekeeper had first seen this place, there had been five towers, but only four structures still remained that could be called towers. The fifth was a heap of rubble, and Firekeeper glanced over at it, remembering. Then she shook herself, for those memories were not pleasant, nor could she see anything to be gained by cultivating them.

Far more pleasant and useful was gazing on the strange forms and features of those who had gathered to welcome them. Slightly to the fore stood the pair Firekeeper and Blind Seer knew best: Powerful Tenderness and Hope.

In appearance, Powerful Tenderness was a frightening figure, one whose name fit only after one had been given opportunity to learn what a strong and gentle creature he was. Firekeeper had yet to decide whether Powerful Tenderness more resembled a very hairy man or a bear standing on its hind legs, yet this alone would not have made him frightening. Rather it was the cold gaze of snake’s eyes from his furred face, the forked tongue that slipped from between his very human lips whenever he spoke, the heavy claws that tipped both hands and feet that made Powerful Tenderness a creature from nightmare.

Hope was more pleasing to the eye. Her essentially human form was covered with blue-grey feathers, short and downy on her torso, longer on her arms, as if those arms had tried to turn into wings but stopped partway in the process. Her eyes were bright, round bird’s eyes, and her nose short and thin.

Behind them stood in a loose semicircle other of the maimalodalum. Looking at them, Firekeeper realized that she knew these better than ever before. Having been close to Plik for these many moonspans, she had heard him mention most of them, and knew more of their qualities.

The one who blended the features of a vixen and a human with touches of something less definable was called Surf Hands, and not because of any deformity. Rather, she was as nimble with her long-fingered hands as waves sliding up and down a sandy shore. She was the weaver among the group, not the only one, but the one best at making fine textiles. Knowing now what she was seeing, Firekeeper recognized what must be Surf Hands’ work worn by most of those gathered, even if just in the form of a narrow scarf or shawl. Seeing this, the wolf-woman realized that she and Blind Seer were being honored, for the maimalodalum had brought out their best.

The boar-headed one was called, as was one of Firekeeper’s first human friends, Gardener. Eschewing plow or hoe, he tilled the small gardens in which the maimalodalum grew many of their food crops with his nose, just as a wild boar would do. Because of him, the community had vegetables throughout the year.

Firekeeper smelled the interesting scents of roasting tubers, and once again knew honor done where she once would have not, for Plik had told her how spring was a thin time for the maimalodalum, as would be expected among a people who voluntarily restricted themselves to a small island. That a great banquet had been prepared showed how welcome the newcomers were.

Powerful Tenderness motioned Firekeeper and Blind Seer to the star-shaped Tower of Air.

“The sea winds grow brisk,” he said, his voice coming deep from his broad bear’s chest. “And although I recall you both claim not to mind cold, still, why shouldn’t we be comfortable when there is comfort so near?”

Firekeeper grinned. “Why not? I smell good things, and am ashamed that in our haste we have come empty-handed.”

Hope said in her high, clear voice, “You come with news, and, as the message that came before you hinted, with tales to spice the meat. Empty-handed, perhaps, but hardly without gifts.”

“How is Plik?” Surf Hands asked. “Tell him I miss his sheddings. His undercoat made for good wool.”

She laughed then, a sound like a fox’s bark, shrill and short, so Firekeeper wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.

“Plik is well enough,” Blind Seer said. “He has had his misadventures, as have we all, but you can be assured that no matter how terrifying a tale we tell, Plik will live at the end. He remains a valued counselor to us all.”

“And the others?” Hope asked. “Derian and Harjeedian both went with you. They remain in the south still. So do Bitter and Lovable. What keeps you there?”

“Plik wrote that you found twins who were the source of the figurines,” Powerful Tenderness said. “But very little else. Even the ospreys who have carried Plik’s messages seem to know little enough.”

Amid this shower of questions, they had entered the Tower of Air. On the inside, the structure showed much better repair than the exterior might have led one to imagine, for the maimalodalum did not wish for any—say a sailor blown off course, or someone with intentions less pure—to see the towers and wonder at their good repair when most other buildings on Misheemnekuru. were overgrown with vines or collapsed to ruin.

There were windows piercing the thick stone walls, but these were not the sole source of light. Instead, after the fashion of the Old World sorcerers, blocks had been set into the walls, enchanted to take in magic and give back light. These still worked, but Firekeeper wondered for how much longer. Sky-Dreaming-Earth-Bound, who had fed the blocks their power, was dead now. She wondered if the maimalodalum had found someone else who could feed the blocks, wondered, too, if Enigma might be able to learn the spell, but how to explain the puma’s new gifts?

With a flash of relief, Firekeeper recalled that soon the maimalodalum would be among the few who shared the secrets she and Blind Seer guarded. Eagerness to tell and so disperse the burden almost made her less than attentive to the food being carried into the heart of the common circle. However, although wolves may not be the neatest of eaters, there is not a one among them who is not enthusiastic about food, and Firekeeper’s earliest training saved her from discourtesy.

Over the meal, the conversation was kept general, so that Firekeeper and Blind Seer could fill their bellies before the food grew cold. Later, when the empty platters had been carried away, and no one but the hungriest did anything more than nibble, Hope directed the conversation to what everyone had been too polite to say.

“Plik wrote saying that you desired to learn whatever you could about the days when Divine Retribution first appeared among the Old Country rulers. We said we would tell you what we knew, but that first we must know why you wished to know. His next letter gave us reason to believe you would fulfill our curiosity. Are you rested enough to begin?”

Firekeeper nodded. “It is simple enough. We believe—we know—that we have encountered the Fire Plague. It lives, although perhaps it is not as strong as when it was young and hungry for its meat. Still, for reasons you will hear, I do not wish the Fire Plague to have free run again. I hope that in finding what I can about how it began, I can find how it may be controlled or perhaps ended.”

The maimalodalum began peppering them with questions, most of which Firekeeper and Blind Seer had heard before and so easily answered. Without hesitation they spoke openly and honestly of what they had discovered, even to the finding of the gates, and the situation on the Nexus Islands.

The telling led to debate over the wisdom of Firekeeper’s proposed course of action. Firekeeper watched as the sky she glimpsed through the tower chamber’s high windows shaded from blue to silver to grey and finally to night black. The light within the chamber washed away the paler glow of the stars.

At last Hope said, “Are there any other questions?”

None of the gathered maimalodalum spoke, so Hope asked, “Does anyone object to my telling Firekeeper and Blind Seer what little we have learned?”

This time the silence was so complete that it rang as loudly as a shout. When Hope moved her head, examining each furred or feathered or scaled face for possible objections, Firekeeper could hear her feathers brush against each other.

Hope began without further preamble. “As you know, these towers suffered somewhat less from the general looting and destruction that followed the fall of the Old Country rulers. One reason was because they were located on Misheemnekuru. Other than servants, none of the ‘common’ population lived on this island—and most of these were shipped back to the mainland before their employers departed. Another reason was that these towers were regarded as temples, and therefore were sacred to the deities.

“Lastly,” Hope gave a thin smile, “we—or rather our ancestors—arrived and did our best to preserve what was here. There was hope then that we might find among the written texts some means of amending what had been done to us. That hope was disappointed, but there were other things among the writings that made them worth preserving. Among the written material we have preserved were letters and journals. Some of these had already been read by someone or other among our community. There’s an odd fascination to reading other people’s letters … but you wouldn’t know about that.

“In any case, we already had some idea where to look for the information you wanted before Plik’s letter arrived. Although early spring is a busy time, just about everyone found time to go through the stacks and bundles. I’m going to summarize for you what we learned.”

Firekeeper had done her best not to fidget during this long introduction, for she knew that Hope was beginning this way to forestall later questions. Still, when she leaned forward slightly as if that shift in posture might make her hear better, Hope’s next words were underscored with a trace of amused laughter.

“We did not learn a great deal, but what we did learn was significant. First, the origin of the Fire Plague—to use a less judgmental term than Divine Retribution—seems to have been here, in the New World. Now that you have told us about the gates—things whose origin we suspected from our readings, but about which we were not sure—we are less certain even about that deduction.”

Blind Seer interrupted. “If you read about the gates, how could you doubt their existence?”

Hope’s chirruping sound mingled annoyance and appreciation. “The gates were never mentioned in detail. As you know, there was an agreement among the Old World sorcerers who came to the New World to assure that any who had any spellcasting ability would be trained in the New World. In this way, they could control the spread of knowledge about their own abilities—and perhaps place some sort of restriction on those they taught, so that their secrets would not become general. This conspiracy of silence extended to not mentioning any details about the tools or procedures they used.”

Powerful Tenderness cleared his throat, a great rumble like distant thunder. “There’s another reason, Blind Seer. The journals in particular were written to supplement the writer’s own memory. Why would they have written details about what was, for them, a routine procedure? Would Derian Carter outline how he traveled between u-Bishinti and u-Seeheera? No. At most he might note that he rode or walked. More usually he would say something like, ‘I went to u-Seeheera today.’ No one writes details of the usual; only the unusual is worth mentioning.”

“I will need to take your word on that,” Blind Seer said, panting laughter, “having never written a single word in all my life.”

Firekeeper thought,
Derian might well mention details of such a journey, if only to record which horse he rode, but I understand what Powerful Tenderness means. Now … let them continue the chase before I die from holding my breath!

Hope went on, “However, even with what you have told us about how the gates work, still I think the Fire Plague must have originated in the New World. Why else would the Old World rulers have done their best to return to the Old World if they did not think they would be safer there?”