Wolf Hunting (18 page)

“Will Elise look so?”
Firekeeper wondered to Blind Seer.

“I think not,”
the wolf replied.
“This is not a woman to struggle and die while a baby pushes forth. This woman is made for easy bearing. I can see why her mate values her.”

Firekeeper gave the woman another look. This was Zira, a kidisdu of the Horse. The man was Varjuna, the ikidisdu, or One, of this place. It was clear in a hand of small ways that Varjuna did value Zira, but Firekeeper thought it was for more than breeding purposes.

Zira was not an attractive woman, not even what Firekeeper had heard politely termed “handsome.” She was almost ugly, with stained teeth and more breadth to her figure than even childbearing could account for. What transformed her from ugliness into something very like beauty was a contagious vitality.

Firekeeper had met both Varjuna and Zira a time or two before, for they were among Derian’s closest friends among the Liglimom, but she did not know them well. Wolfishly polite, she hung back, letting greetings between friends go uninterrupted, knowing she would not be long forgotten—if for no other reason than she and Blind Seer were unsettling some of the nearby horses.

“Don’t be shy, Lady Blysse,” Zira said, motioning for Firekeeper to come join them. Something about the twinkle in her eyes made Firekeeper think the other woman didn’t think her in the least shy. “Derian has been telling us of your upcoming expedition. We’re going to need your help on the next part.”

Derian had left Prahini in the care of one of the local grooms, and now they walked toward a place that smelled promisingly of food. To Firekeeper’s satisfaction, they stopped long enough to wash the dust from their throats and satisfy their appetites with some slow-grilled lamb wrapped in bread.

The matter of outfitting the expedition was resumed as soon as the last bite was swallowed.

“How did you manage with the horses on your other journeys?” Varjuna asked.

“I tell them,” Firekeeper said, “I eat them if they trouble me. They believe. Later, when maybe they not believe, there is one or two who not care or not scare so much—Roanne this last.”

She managed this explanation half in Pellish, half in Liglimosh, with Derian providing translation. Derian also translated whenever he thought Firekeeper might be missing some element of the mostly Liglimosh conversation.

“So can you talk to horses?” Varjuna asked.

“Not really, not Cousins,” Firekeeper said. “To Wise Horses, this would be different.”

“I see,” Varjuna said. “So you essentially intimidated the others.”

“Yes. They are very like prey, and they know this.”

“I suppose the same tactic would work …” Varjuna began dubiously.

“But I hate the idea of sending any of our horses out under such horrible conditions,” Zira protested.

“I do, too, my dear,” Varjuna agreed. “However, they will adjust in a few days, when they realize that she doesn’t really mean it.”

“But what if something happens before then?” Zira protested. “A storm or something else that sets them off? Not only would they be a hazard to themselves, they might well throw their riders. As I understand what Derian was telling us earlier, the horses in Earl Kestrel’s expedition had time to get accustomed to Blind Seer’s scent.”

“That’s right,” Derian said. “They probably knew he was out there before we did. He and Firekeeper kept their secret until we had crossed the Iron Mountains.”

“After that,” Zira persisted, “Derian’s Roanne was always there to provide a balance—an example that … Well, not that there was nothing to be afraid of but …”

“She provided an example of courage,” Derian suggested. “Horse herds are led by the mares, after all. Roanne acted as herd mare, and the rest followed her lead.”

“That’s it,” Zira said. “However, your group wouldn’t have time to get slowly accustomed to the idea of traveling with wolves and jaguars.”

“And Prahini won’t make a herd mare,” Derian said, “not for a while yet. She has potential, but she’s young and flighty at times.”

Firekeeper didn’t mention that the horses would have more to put up with than just her, Blind Seer, and Truth. Who knew what type of maimalodalu would join them? There was not a one among those hybrid people who would smell like anything else in nature.

All this time, they had been walking, looking at the horses. U-Bishinti, or the Stable, was more than a horse facility, it was a living temple to horses.

The Liglimom had great respect for all animals, wild and domestic, but the only domestic animal used for auguries and divination was the horse. For the Horse, the Liglimom had created a facility that defied Firekeeper’s ability to comprehend it for complexity and vastness. She had heard Derian rhapsodize about u-Bishinti repeatedly—most recently, the evening before to Elise and Doc—so she simply took his word that if there was any place to be a horse, u-Bishinti was it.

Derian paused alongside a field that held some mares as wildly painted as Prahini. He stared at them so intently that Firekeeper wondered if he wanted a different mount; then he swung around and spoke in a voice that mixed hesitancy and enthusiasm.

“Varjuna, what about Eshinarvash or one of the Wise Horses? They wouldn’t be afraid of Firekeeper or the yarimaimalom. Didn’t you tell me that they seemed to have some ability to communicate with what Firekeeper would call their ‘Cousin-kind’?”

“They do,” Varjuna agreed. “That’s an interesting solution, but …”

Derian interrupted, surprising Firekeeper immensely, for usually he was polite to a fault with Varjuna and Zira—even when they were disagreeing about some point of horse care or breeding.

“I didn’t mean to suggest that the Wise Horses turn out as mounts for us. I mean …” Derian colored a brilliant red. “I’ve had honor enough with the two rides Eshinarvash granted me. I just meant that one of them might come along and, well, supervise.”

“It’s a very good idea,” Zira said, “and if we didn’t suggest it, well, that may be because we think differently than you do. We think of them as our neighbors. You remind us that they are part of our community as well. Didn’t Eshinarvash all but kidnap you last year?”

Derian’s blush was fading, but he looked embarrassed nonetheless. “I was honored to help him and the rest of the yarimaimalom. It’s not their fault I can’t talk to them.”

“Still,” Zira said, “it seems to me that if they didn’t think it rude to enlist you, we shouldn’t think it rude to at least ask them for assistance. After all, didn’t this start with one of the yarimaimalom? Shouldn’t they be willing to help Truth if we are?”

Zira sounded so much like Blind Seer—who had not yet stopped complaining about Truth being the latest in a series of people willing to enlist Firekeeper to their cause—that Firekeeper glanced at the blue-eyed wolf. He was sitting in a patch of shade, panting his approval.

“When you put it that way, my dear,” Varjuna said to his wife, “it does rather make sense. Come. We’ll see who the herds have sent as their emissary today. If Lady Blysse will help, I’m sure we’ll be able to explain.”

“You first,” Firekeeper said. “They know you. I have only met one Wise Horse, and that was Eshinarvash just once.”

SINCE THE AREA where the Wise Horse emissary typically waited was on the fringes of u-Bishinti, there was a delay while horses were saddled for the three humans. Firekeeper politely refused.

“Horses no like me,” she said. “Is this not why we do this running about?”

“You have a point,” Varjuna replied, stroking his own mount along the length of its neck to soothe it.

Firekeeper noted that all three horses were remarkably calm given the circumstances. However, this didn’t surprise her. She had long suspected that Derian had a talent for working with horses, a talent less under his voluntary control than was Doc’s healing talent, but no less real for that. She thought it was likely that Varjuna or Zira—or even both—were similarly gifted.

The horse who trotted up to meet them at the fence that separated the Wise Horse’s area from the rest of u-Bishinti was none other than the same Eshinarvash they had been speaking of earlier.

Unlike the Wise Wolves and Jaguars—and many other of the yarimaimalom—Eshinarvash was not markedly larger than a usual horse. He was not a small animal, but he lacked the outsized proportions that made Blind Seer and Truth so automatically intimidating. Moreover, he had a grace and lithe build not common in horses of his size.

Firekeeper knew there was no strict rule as to whether the Wise—or Royal—Beasts would automatically be larger than their Cousin kin. Where size would provide an advantage, the Wise Beasts seemed to possess it, but whereas a gigantic wolf might pull down larger prey, a large horse would simply need more grazing area. Wise River Otters were no larger than their Cousin kin, but Wise Sea Otters, from the few Firekeeper had glimpsed, at least, could get quite large indeed.

Like Prahini, Eshinarvash’s coat was wildly patterned. Firekeeper thought he had more black than white, but white stockings, rump, and splotches on his neck and flanks made for a vivid contrast. His mane and tail were bicolored as well, and Firekeeper had to admit that the contrast was quite lovely.

Coming within sniffing distance of the fence rail, Firekeeper and Blind Seer stood back and waited for the Wise Horse to acknowledge them. Etiquette was delicate when predator met with what in other circumstances might be prey. Eshinarvash, however, immediately addressed them.

“You arrive with friends of mine,”
he said, snorting and shaking his mane.
“Moreover, I know you to be a friend to the yarimaimalom. Welcome, Firekeeper and Blind Seer.”

“Thank you,”
Blind Seer replied for them both, stretching out in the hybrid of a human and wolfish bow he used. Firekeeper knew Blind Seer liked the gesture, since it allowed him to show courtesy without demonstrating submission. She inclined her head in something of the same manner.

“These humans,”
Firekeeper said,
“have something to ask you. They will do better than I would, but if you have questions for me, feel free to ask.”

Eshinarvash’s ears flickered back and forth, indicating puzzlement rather than annoyance, and he turned his attention to the three humans. They exchanged huffs of air, the humans breathing into Eshinarvash’s nostrils as if offering their scent, the horse snorting genially at them. These formalities concluded, Varjuna—with ample assistance from Derian and Zira—began explaining their difficulty.

Eshinarvash listened, then raised his head to look over where Firekeeper and Blind Seer waited in a patch of shade.

“There is more to this than some vague expedition. I scent that Varjuna and Zira truly do not know—one smells of ignorance, the other of curiosity. Derian does know, but he will not say, even before these two who he admires. Would you care to explain?”

“We will,”
Firekeeper said.
“Let me tell the humans what I do so they are not impatient.”

She switched to Liglimosh. “Eshinarvash say he have question for me. I answer now.”

Varjuna smiled gently. “By all means.”

Firekeeper then returned her attention to Eshinarvash.

“Truth is a jaguar, so it is likely she has not even told her close kin what it is we are hunting. Still, there are those on Misheemnekuru who know the beginning of the story. Two of these are ravens, and as they are great gossips, the story may fly wide.”

Blind Seer cut in,
“Even so, although this is not precisely a secret, what we tell you might not be for the common herd—or pack—especially after the unsettled events of last year.”

They went on then, the two of them together, to retell the whole tale. They left out the long days spent digging and polishing, and concentrated on the finding of the figurines and what they had deduced from them.

“So you go,”
Eshinarvash said, when they had finished,
“with Harjeedian and one of these maimalodalum to seek the source of these figurines—or at least the subject. It is a bold venture. I wish I could see you all mounted on ones such as myself, but I think it would draw too much attention. One Wise Horse, perhaps, could be explained for the very reasons Varjuna has asked, but more than one … It has not been done since the days of Divine Retribution when all was unsettled.”

Firekeeper would have liked to hear tales about those days, but even nose-dead as she was she swore she could scent the curiosity coming from the humans—especially from Derian and Zira.

“Then are you saying you think at least one of you could come?”
she asked.
“It would be a great help.”

“One, and I think I know which one,”
Eshinarvash replied.
“Unless there is great argument against it from the leaders of my herd, I will join your expedition.”

IX

THE NEW MOON, Deer Moon to Derian, something incredibly poetic and allusive to the Liglimom, had gone from a sliver to a definite crescent by the time they departed u-Seeheera.

By this time in his life, Derian had planned and equipped several expeditions into unknown territory. He was pleased and even flattered that—other than suggesting a few people Derian might wish to consult—Harjeedian left him to handle the work on his own. Nor was this the aridisdu treating him as a servant. Derian well knew the difference and appreciated it.

Harjeedian for his part had all but moved to u-Bishinti, and was taking some intensive courses in riding and packing. They had decided to do without wagons on this venture, not knowing if where Truth would lead them would even have roads.

Firekeeper made herself as useful as Firekeeper ever did in these circumstances—which was to say, not very useful at all. Derian didn’t mind. He knew that her skills would be of immense value once they were away from cities and regular lines of supply.

He learned that in addition to those already agreed upon, their expedition would have two more members: the ravens Bitter and Lovable. He welcomed the two Wise Ravens with enthusiasm. Early in his association with Firekeeper he had learned how useful an aerial scout could be.