The Lady Blysse did not answer directly, but looked to Derian.
“Actually,” he said awkwardly, “we don’t have any story like that. It isn’t that we have lost it, I don’t think. We just don’t have it. How about in Bright Bay, Barnet?”
Barnet shook his head. “It’s a wonderful story, but I’ve never heard the like. The Tavetch of Stonehold have their own story about how the sun and moon are associated with the creation of the world in their stories, but it isn’t at all the same.”
Rahniseeta couldn’t believe him.
“But how do you explain the way the world came to be?”
Derian slid the empty cup from which he had been drinking fruit juice around the table, drawing damp snail trails with the base.
“Actually, we don’t worry about it much,” he admitted. “There are levels of mystery, and we leave such things to the ancestors.”
“I do not understand.”
Derian’s hand shifted from the pottery tumbler to the small bag he wore at his waist. Harjeedian had told Rahniseeta that these had been inspected while the guests were unconscious, but they held nothing that could help the guests to leave prematurely, and seemed to be religious in nature, so they had been permitted to retain them.
“In each of our houses,” Derian said, “there is a shrine to the ancestors of our family. In some cases, they go back for generations, but in most households, they are concerned only with the nearest ancestors—one’s own parents, or grandparents if they have died, the generation before if not Then as one grows older, one adds to the array. Eventually, the family shrine is passed to the eldest child in the family. There are deep secrets associated with this passing on, but—well—I am not old enough to have been initiated into them. There are stages in the initiation, and the first comes when one becomes a parent—and thus a potential ancestor oneself.”
“It’s much the same in Bright Bay—or the Isles,” Barnet agreed. “We call on our ancestors to intercede for us with the powers beyond, but we don’t really discuss what those powers are. We just know they are there, but we don’t give them names or shapes.”
He looked apologetic, but went on, “It would seem to reduce them—as if they were mere society emblems.”
Rahniseeta couldn’t believe she was hearing this. It must be the fault of the abbreviated language they were forced to use. She decided that further pressing the matter would only create unhappiness for them all—and Harjeedian had wanted her to entertain their guests.
“What is a society?” she asked. The word Barnet had used in the language of Liglim meant something like “friendly group,” but she felt he meant more.
“Societies?” Barnet paused, visibly relaxing, his delay in speaking a matter of linguistics and nothing more. “Well, in Bright Bay we have fourteen—one for each moon of the year and the last associated with the royal family. They’re named for animals. I think our countries vary a bit there, don’t they, Derian?”
Derian nodded. “You have a Gull Society, instead of our Elk, I remember that, and Fox instead of Dog. I don’t recall the rest.”
“Whale instead of Bull,” Barnet said, “and, of course, our royal family wouldn’t associate with the Eagle. Their society patron is the Osprey—or at least Queen Valora’s is. I don’t know what King Allister has done.”
Rahniseeta fought down a mingling of rising excitement and confusion. Despite their odd discussion of changing names of these societies, it did seem to hint that these were indeed maimalodalum.
Very carefully, she asked, “So each of you has an animal with which you are associated?”
Derian nodded. “My society patron is the Horse.”
“Mine’s the Whale,” Barnet said. “That’s why I remember the difference from Hawk Haven.”
Rahniseeta glanced over at Lady Blysse, but the answer was obvious even before she spoke.
“I am wolf.”
Rahniseeta considered these associations. That the woman was a wolf gave her no problems at all. She still thought Derian’s coloring was more that of a fox, but horses did often manifest in shining chestnut. Barnet was so slim and sleek that there seemed nothing of the whale about him, but who knew what wonders Water held in his depths?
She could hardly wait to tell Harjeedian her conclusions, but stayed a while longer, letting the conversation drift to more general topics. Barnet and Derian vied in recounting the festivals their various societies had sponsored, while Lady Blysse and her companion drifted off to sleep.
At last Rahniseeta felt she could glance up at the rising glow of Fire’s Home and say without awkwardness:
“I must leave now if you are to have a proper midday meal.”
Both men rose courteously to see her to the gate, acting as if they were hosts seeing away a guest rather than what they were—not really guests, no matter what Rahniseeta wanted to think.
She asked one of the guards at the end of the passage where she might find Harjeedian.
“I saw him coming from a meeting not long ago,” the guard replied. “He went toward the residences.”
Rahniseeta thanked the guard and hurried off to the apartment she shared with Harjeedian and his snakes. It was a small enough space, but since they took their meals communally and used the temple baths, it was quite sufficient for their needs.
She found Harjeedian dropping live mice to his snakes and murmuring the appropriate prayers. He turned from these rather more rapidly than was his wont. Rahniseeta had often felt he lingered over these rites when she was near precisely to impress his importance on her, but that was probably foolish. He was truly devout, or he never would have been chosen to join the ranks of the aridisdum.
“Your eyes sparkle like Magic’s brightest stars,” he said. “What have you learned?”
Without sparing detail, Rahniseeta told him everything, including her conjecture that their guests might be maimalodalum. She had expected Harjeedian to be pleased, so she was startled to see him grow paler and paler. He did not interrupt until she had finished, and then his words were not at all what she expected.
“You say that Derian Counselor claimed affiliation with the Horse Society?”
“Yes?”
Harjeedian groaned and pressed his face into his hands.
“Harjeedian, what is wrong?”
“I may have committed a great wrong.” He took a deep breath and continued, “We knew of the association of Lady Blysse with the blue-eyed wolf and took care to secure both without injury. However, we knew nothing of Derian Counselor and the horse.”
“What horse?”
“You must understand that in order to secure our guests we had to make certain that no one would believe they were not about their usual business.”
“Yes. That is why you were gone so long. You had to wait for the propitious time.”
“We also had to erase any indications that they had not gone on their planned journey. For that reason we secured their mounts and baggage.”
He paused for so long that Rahniseeta was forced to prompt him once more.
“Yes?”
“There were two animals they planned to take with them. One was clearly a pack animal, well built, but not exceptional. The other was a chestnut mare with white stockings, and even to my eyes—and I know little of horses beyond what any aridisdu must—she was a beautiful creature, elegant and high-spirited. It came near to breaking my heart to …”
“To what?”
“To order her slain.”
“No!”
“What else was I to do? I had no idea she might be the man’s associate. Barnet told me nothing of these societies. I simply saw a horse too notable to be sold, a creature who would be difficult to ship, even if I had been so inclined. Also her death meant solution to another problem—how to feed the wolf without drawing attention to ourselves by purchasing quantities of meat or livestock.”
Rahniseeta was now as horrified as her brother, but loyally she tried to soothe him.
“I am sure you did the right thing.”
“I am not,” Harjeedian said bluntly. “After the wolf was first fed from the mare’s flesh, Derian looked at me with great hatred, though he said nothing. I thought nothing of it, for after all, he was adjusting to the idea of being taken from his place—and that we had used Lady’s Blysse’s friendship toward him to lure both her and the wolf. Now I think the hatred may have been for other reasons.”
He looked over toward the lovely carved boxes in which he kept his snakes, and Rahniseeta knew he was thinking how he would feel if someone slew any of his snakes and used them for animal feed—and that the matter would be worse if Derian Counselor was indeed a maimalodalu, for then the horse (a chestnut horse, she could not forget) would have been not merely associate but kin.
“The omens have been bad,” Harjeedian said, “so bad that although there are many among the disdum who wish to meet Lady Blysse and to begin with her, we have not been able to get an agreement as to the propitious time and day. Now I may know why the omens have been so dark, and I must admit my actions may be the cause.”
He straightened, glanced toward the snake boxes, remembered that the snakes had just been fed and so should not be disturbed, and then turned toward the door.
“Rahniseeta, I hope the teachers will be merciful and the omens will not call for me to atone for my error in the final way—but this is a jaguar year. If anything happens to me, you will find I have set by something for you.”
“Harjeedian!” She flew to his side and embraced him. “Surely it will not be so terrible. I was foolish, romanticizing these foreign visitors. If they were really maimalodalum would they not have fled? Barnet, at least, could have called on the whales, yet he did so neither when his first ship was storm-wrecked nor on the return.”
“Barnet thought he had an agreement with us that was to his liking,” Harjeedian reminded her, “and who knows that he did not call on the whales and that is why he survived when so many who voyaged with him died. Or perhaps he is not a maimalodalu—as you said, there is little whale-like about him—but the other two may be. In any case, conclusions must be left to those who read the omens. I would be less than honest if I did not report what you have told me—and if they call upon you to tell your tale, do not change it on my account. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Harjeedian.”
Rahniseeta kept her eyes on him as he left, her back straight and confident, but when he was out of sight, she ran from their rooms and went to the central Temple of the Cold Bloods. There she knelt before the towering enameled statue, praying with all her heart that her brother, who had served the elements so faithfully, would not be forgotten in this, his time of dire need.
FIREKEEPER WAS THINKING ABOUT the story Rahniseeta had told earlier that day. It certainly made sense, explained a good many things about which she herself had occasionally wondered during these last two years, when merely finding enough to eat had not occupied her mind so fully.
The metallic jangle of the gate at the end of the corridor being opened broke her from her reverie, and she sprang to her feet. Derian and Barnet, who had been making an attempt to move the language lessons forward, turned to see who the new arrival would be. Contrary to their expectations, Rahniseeta had not escorted the servants who had brought the midday meal, nor could those servants say where she had gone.
When Harjeedian opened the gate into the courtyard, Firekeeper noticed that Derian’s hazel eyes lost some of their animation, that Barnet leaned back into his chair. Neither man was rude, but it was clear that Harjeedian was not welcomed as his sister would have been.
Observing her human companions as she was, it took Firekeeper a moment to notice a change in Harjeedian’s bearing. Always he had been confident, even on the day when they had nearly managed their escape. Today some of that confidence was missing. He looked, she thought, like a young wolf who has made a try for the One, but has been soundly beaten—like a wolf who has been forced to reassess his importance within his pack.
Firekeeper saw that Barnet and Derian were also aware that something had changed, but they did not see as deeply as did she and so were made edgy while she felt her own confidence rising.
“Lady Blysse, Blind Seer, Counselor Derian, Barnet Lobster.” Harjeedian’s greetings were punctilious and correct. Firekeeper noted that she and Blind Seer came first and was pleased. “Not long ago, you asked me to reconsider the conditions of your residence among us.”
“He takes refuge in the big words,”
Firekeeper said to Blind Seer.
“what does he fear?”
“I would like to say ‘us,’”
the wolf replied,
“but he has not feared us thus far. I would say his Ones have thrashed him
—
but why?”
Harjeedian produced a rabbit-sized bundle of finely woven grey-blue fabric from within the folds of his shirt. He unwound the fabric, producing Firekeeper’s Fang and the worn pouch in which she carried her fire-making stones. Derian’s ruby counselor’s ring rolled from the last fold and settled upright and glittering on the table.
“You,” he said, bowing slightly to Firekeeper, “requested the return of your treasured belongings. Here they are. Am I correct in believing that you do not care unduly for the clothing you were wearing when you were taken?”
Firekeeper nodded. She cared little for any particular item of clothing, though having discovered the usefulness of attire for protecting one from thorns and scrapes she preferred having it to not.
Derian also nodded. He reached for his ring slowly, as if fearing its return might be a trap. Firekeeper had no such concern. She nearly pounced on her belongings and was pleased to see that knife belt and sheath were within the tangle of cloth as well.
She strapped them into place, feeling very pleased, not so much that she was armed again—for she knew well how little one blade could do against an armed force—but for the respect represented by the returning of her weapons.
“And you have the second knife as well
,” Blind Seer reminded her.
“I would keep it hidden, as snakes hide their poison.”
“You have snakes in your brain,”
she teased, though she agreed with him.