Wolf's Blood (70 page)

“But the one thing that never split was the identity of himself as spellcaster, sorcerer, a man with power enough to do what he had done. He might have doubted the actions, but unlike Blind Seer and Derian he has never doubted the rightness of his having that power.”

The Meddler nodded. “And you think that Virim the Sorcerer, the Spellcaster, is emblemized by that mountain sheep.”

“I know it is so,” Firekeeper said, and her confidence was not mere bravado. She did know, as certainly as she knew the difference between the tracks of a deer and elk. “And more importantly, so does Virim.”

Blind Seer looked up at her, his blue eyes shining. Hunting together was something they had done since he was a stumble-footed pup growing into strength and she a human girl, by wolf standards, hardly less stumble-footed than that pup.

“Shall I cut him from the herd?”

“Do,” Firekeeper said, “and Elation, will you fly high and cry the course to me so that I may be where I am needed?”

“With joy,” the peregrine said.

“And me,” the Meddler asked. “What can I do?”

“Anything you wish,” Firekeeper said, “except get in our way. That we would not forgive.”

The Meddler nodded. “I understand.”

And Firekeeper, hearing Blind Seer’s hunting howl break apart both the silence that had held them and the chaotic babble of the many Virims, thought that she caught a hint of respectful fear in the Meddler’s eyes.

XXXIV

  WHEN DERIAN RETURNED to the Nexus Islands he was slightly surprised to find neither Ynamynet nor Skea coming to meet him.

As soon as she had finished closing the gate after him, Kalyndra explained, “There has been news. Ships have been seen by the winged folk who have been scouting offshore.”

Derian dropped the pack he had been carrying.

“If you would have someone get that to Doctor Zebel,” he said, “I’d better get down and hear the rest.”

Plik was translating the seabirds’ report when Derian arrived at headquarters.

“The winged folk think the ships are still two or three days distant, but they admit that they are not the best judges of how quickly such vessels can travel.”

“What about the condition of those aboard?” asked Skea.

“Several of the ships carry with them the scent of sickness and death,” Plik said. “but those are in the minority. Overall, the ships and their crews seem to be in good health. Although deck space on even the largest vessels is limited, the winged folk report that they observed military drill under way.”

“Are they sure?” Derian asked.

Plik gave a sad smile. “They base their assessment on what they have seen Skea directing here on the Nexus Islands.”

“Ah …” Derian said. “Well, then I guess they know what they’re talking about.”

Skea was already getting to his feet. Derian held up a hand to forestall him.

“Wait a moment. I have news of my own.”

Quickly, he reported the offer Doc and Elise had made.

Skea gave a tight smile. “I’m not one of those who thinks my soldiers will fight harder if those they love are in danger. If anyone wants their small children evacuated, fine, but no adults, and none of the bigger children. We’re going to need every one.”

Ynamynet touched him on the arm. “What about Sunshine?”

Skea frowned. “Send her, by all means. She’s too small to be of help.”

“But what if people think we’re protecting our child and not letting them protect their own?”

Skea growled. “If we don’t hold this island, it won’t matter what side of the gate the children are on. Doom will come soon enough.”

Derian raised a placating hand. “If anyone feels so strongly that their child is too young to stay here, let that child go. Doc and Elise will need some help watching the younger children in any case.”

“I’ll sound the assembly horn,” Skea said. “The news that the ships are close must be spread.”

I wonder,
Derian thought,
just how many of the Nexans are going to come up with excuses to follow the children through the gate to the Sunset grant? I wonder how many are going to suddenly fall ill?

But neither his cynicism nor Ynamynet’s proved justified. The Nexans greeted with relief the news that the smaller children and invalids could be cared for on the mainland without depleting the defending force. No one suggested that everyone make that retreat. Once again, Derian was forced to face that the Nexans understood the danger to themselves wherever they should go if they lost control over the gates.

He said as much to Isende as they left the meeting.

“I know,” she said. “To those of us from the New World, the Old World isn’t quite real. No matter what we know intellectually, deep inside we can’t believe that in a few days we’re going to be facing people set on conquest. It’s real to the Nexans. They know those people, those places.”

Derian nodded somberly. “You’re right. In my belly, this island is where the gates lead. That’s the end.”

“I guess,” Isende said, slipping her hand into his and squeezing, “we’ll be forced to believe in a few days. I’m off to the kitchens. If we do evacuate the children, they’re going to need to be sent with at least some supplies. I told Ynamynet I’d speak with the head cook about what we can spare.”

“Not too much,” Derian cautioned. “They’ll have access to the dairy animals we have grazing there, and to all the hunting the forests offer. I wouldn’t be surprised if the yarimaimalom bring them more meat than they can use.”

“No doubt,” Isende said, “but some hard bread that could be soaked in milk and maybe some soft cheese would be best for small children. I don’t know if your friend Lady Elise knows how to make cottage cheese.”

“If she doesn’t,” Derian said, “I bet Doc does. Isende, one question.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve told us about receiving visions. Is there any chance you could try and reach the Meddler, send him a message that if Firekeeper is bringing help she should hurry it up?”

Isende’s expression tightened. “I’ve been trying, Derian. I’ve already been trying, but I really don’t know if I’m getting through. I think we need to accept that we’re going to have to face this on our own. Firekeeper may avenge us, but I don’t think she can possibly do anything to save us.”

Derian trapped her hand between his.

“Don’t give up, Isende. Skea’s done wonders with the training, and there are very few areas where invading troops can come ashore. We should be able to hold out, at least for a while.”

“But for how long?” Isende said, disengaging herself and moving away toward the kitchen. “Just for how long?”

AT THE FIRST note of Blind Seer’s howl, Firekeeper turned from the Meddler. Elation had flown to mark where their chosen prey had fled, but Firekeeper did not need the peregrine’s help. The mountain sheep’s glittering diamond horns and the flash of its golden hooves gave the creature away even amid the brilliantly dressed throng of Virim’s other selves.

Twists of iron wire in hand, Firekeeper ran to intercept the mountain sheep. The Virims did not precisely move to get in her way, but neither did they move to let her through. The mountain sheep darted between the oblivious human figures, using them for cover as a more usual animal of its type would have used the rocks and boulders of the rocky fastnesses that were its home.

But quick and swift as the mountain sheep was, Firekeeper was swifter and more lithe. Her skills had been honed where the cost of a misstep would be going hungry. Virim had been given no such incentive.

Moreover, Blind Seer was pressing from the front, anticipating the mountain sheep’s frantic dashes and darts so that more and more frequently Virim found what had been an open way was filled with the lean grey form of the enormous wolf.

The mountain sheep’s flanks began to heave with the effort, and plaintive noises somewhere in between a sheep’s bleats and a human cry came to Firekeeper’s ears. They were pitiable sounds, laments of desperation, but Firekeeper was not to be so easily swayed. A rabbit screamed with fear, so did a deer. You pitied them that, but to relent was to find yourself starved.

Between the three they drove the mountain sheep back and forth through the throng of arguing sorcerers. On their second pass—or perhaps their third—Firekeeper noticed something odd. The throng was thinning. It was still dense, but even as she watched she saw two arguing armor-clad sorcerers dissolve into one. This new one turned to begin arguing with one of the more scholarly types, one whose ornate robes were embellished with emblems than Firekeeper was certain she had not seen together before.

His internal argument is beginning to simplify beneath the pressure we are putting on him, the wolf-woman realized. And with that simplification, no doubt he will soon be stronger. This is one hunt where we cannot hope to run the prey until it collapses. Time to end the chase before we find ourselves overwhelmed.

She howled the high, clear note that would tell Blind Seer of her intent. Without question, Blind Seer pressed forward, blocking the mountain sheep, forcing it to dart to one side. When the sheep turned, Firekeeper was ready. She raced forward, leaping so that she knocked into the mountain sheep with all her weight. It stumbled. and Blind Seer made sure that it went down.

Firekeeper did not pause. Anchoring the mountain sheep with her body, she twisted the iron wire about its forelegs, hobbling it effectively even if the iron had no power against it. Blind Seer had moved to the creature’s rear and was trying to get a hold on the hind legs, but the flashing of those kicking hooves warned him back.

“Elation!” Firekeeper cried. “Distract him.”

The peregrine need no further instruction. She had already been flying overhead. Now she folded her long, sharp-edged wings, going into one of the magnificent stoops for which her kind were known. Lying on its side as it was, the mountain sheep saw her coming, and its wail of despair was almost human.

It flinched, squishing its eyes shut as if the delicate tissue of the lids could protect the orbs from the falcon’s sharp talons. Its back legs thrashed blindly, as if it could run on the air.

Firekeeper used the moment of panic to shift her weight, pinning the hind legs near the hip so that the range and power of motion were diminished. Blind Seer darted in then, grabbing the legs and holding them firmly between his jaws. He wasn’t trying to cause harm, but blood leak out nonetheless.

Elation had caught herself in mid-dive and risen to the heights again, ready to dive if Virim showed signs of continued protest, but whether because of the iron wire that bound it or from the firm grasp of Blind Seer’s fangs on its vulnerable hind legs, or merely from the overwhelming force of terror, the mountain sheep had ceased to struggle.

Firekeeper wrapped several loops of iron wire around its hind legs, and told Blind Seer he could release his prey.

“The blood tasted human,” the wolf said, licking traces from the fur around his mouth with his tongue. “I nearly let go when the taste stung against my tongue.”

“But you didn’t,” Firekeeper said, giving him an affectionate hug.

Then, tentatively, ready to pin her prey if it should stir again, she rose to her feet. As she did so. she realized the room was so quiet that the sound of Elation’s wings echoed in the ovoid chamber.

“The sorcerers are gone,” she said.

“The prospect of death.” Blind Seer said, “must make arguments over ethical considerations seem trivial.”

Firekeeper glanced around the room. The Meddler seemed to have vanished as well. She wondered if this meant that they were back in something that more closely resembled the “real” world, or whether he had taken her warning about the consequences of his interfering so seriously that he had made himself scarce.

She spared no further thought for the strange spirit, but took a few steps back from the mountain sheep and hunkered down to study it. It lay there, flanks heaving, eyes pressed shut, the sorcerer showing as little sense as the creature whose shape he had adopted would have done in a similar situation.

Firekeeper wasn’t fooled for a moment. She reached out and gently twitched one of the mountain sheep’s ears.

“We can call you Bruck or we can call you Virim, or we can call you Wooly Lamb or Twinkly Hooves,” she said conversationally. “I admit, I would find the last rather ridiculous, but perhaps such suits you best. We are no dogs to be fooled by our prey playing dead—and you are no opossum.”

“What if it is preparing some spell?” Blind Seer said, hackles rising and ears folding back. “I wish we had one of the maimalodalum with us. I cannot be sure I could tell if magic is being worked.”

“The scent would probably be drowned out by all that surrounds us,” Firekeeper said, stroking the wolf along his back. “I think we are still within Virim’s mind, and that he is trying to decide how to present himself. He may have stopped arguing with himself, but the habit is an old one, and not easily relinquished I suspect. If he does not answer me soon …”

But the wolf-woman never had to voice what she would have done, and that was probably a good thing, as she was not completely certain.