Wolf Hunting (23 page)

As the days of riding passed, Plik was relieved to find that he did adjust to this strange mode of travel. He learned to adjust to the different gaits of his mounts, and he could let go his death grip on the reins and saddle horn to drink from his canteen or snack on some of the goodies he started keeping in his pockets. He might never have Derian’s unconscious comfort on horseback, but he no longer felt quite so punished.

Once they crossed the border out of Liglim into the city-states, things changed. The people of the city-states had heard of the yarimaimalom, many had even seen them, but they did not have the Liglimom’s familiarity and trust of the intelligent beasts. Blind Seer and Truth inspired a certain amount of apprehension. Eshinarvash awakened envy and covetousness. The ravens simply kept their distance, knowing full well that a raven high overhead was nothing more than black against sky.

However, Harjeedian and Derian proved very competent in dealing with the authorities in each location. Alone but for the watchful ravens, they would enter the governing city. The rest of the expedition was left outside, where the presence of the jaguar and wolf—and Firekeeper poised nonchalantly “in charge”—meant that any local soldiery did not come close enough to penetrate Plik’s disguise.

Occasionally, they were taunted by some of the locals who felt a need to prove that their land was not in awe of the looming power across the river. In these cases, Plik was fairly certain that Firekeeper alone could not have guaranteed they remained untouched, but even when they moved farther from the border, stories of the Liglimom’s intense reverence for the Wise Beasts had spread. Not even the most arrogant solider would invite certain war to prove that he or she was not afraid of a big, spotted cat.

But despite careful research at each stop, they did not find what they sought in the first city-state they visited, nor in the second, or third. Truth was their guide in choosing each destination, but she was hardly a reliable one.

“How can I guide you to what I myself have not seen?”
she snarled one evening when questions at the archives in the second city had garnered them nothing. Firekeeper was restive, and as was often the case at such times, less than diplomatic.
“I must go by what I feel, and I feel a certainty that we are going in the correct direction. Go back to Misheemnekuru. Run and howl with the wolves if you do not have the patience for a great hunt.”

Needless to say, Firekeeper did not leave, nor did Truth’s harsh words soothe her bruised nerves. She took to avoiding the jaguar, hinting less than subtly that she felt the great cat knew far more than she was admitting. Plik agreed with Firekeeper, but he felt it was less than tactful to say so, even obliquely.

Keeping his own doubts to himself, Plik continued his masquerade, wearing a selection of hats and cloaks. He told Meddler tales to distract his companions. When they needed no distraction, he constructed the stories he would tell when he returned to Center Island.

But Plik worried as he watched the tensions build. Everyone knew that when a wolf fought a jaguar, the wolf lost, but what if the combatants were two wolves against one jaguar?

All he knew was that if the matter came to that point, whoever might win the battle, all of them would have lost.

DERIAN WAS ASTONISHED to discover how quickly and efficiently he and Harjeedian worked out a routine for finding out what they needed to know while giving away very little themselves.

At their first stop, the riverside city-state of u-Itura—that is, the Borders—they had very little difficulty getting cooperation. Indeed, the residents were so like the Liglimom that Derian had to remind himself that they were not. Here Harjeedian’s prestige as an aridisdu and his relationship to Rahniseeta opened both doors and archives to them. They were able to learn a great deal more about the other nearby city-states, for many of these preferred to trade with the Liglimom through u-Itura rather than do so themselves.

From u-Itura, Truth directed them toward Amseeta—or Rich Earth—a city-state almost directly south. Here the land was nearly flat and very fertile. However, it was poor in metals, and a long policy of clear-cutting for fields meant they were poor of fuel as well. They dried horse and cattle dung for their fires, and lived in a symbiotic state with the next city-state Truth guided them to.

This was Jekuseeta—or Hard Earth—a city-state more to the west. Here much of the soil was rocky, but rich in metals and valuable minerals. Timber, too, was plentiful, for who would cut down forests to create rocky fields? Derian wondered aloud why the two lands did not merge and learned more than he wished about their long-standing religious—or was it political?—differences. As long as each could view itself as getting the better of any deal, the residents lived in a peculiar harmony, but when either drew ahead, then there was ample excuse for war.

Really, it’s not all that unlike the situation between Hawk Haven and Bright Bay,
Derian thought.
What kept us apart for so long other than the fact that those who founded the lands had reasons to hate each other? No wonder there are times Firekeeper looks at humans as if we all have rabies.

In each of these city-states, the burden for investigation fell on the two human members of the expedition. Usually, the greater part of the group would wait outside of the city itself—for true to the name the Liglimom had given them, one city ruled the surrounding region, with the majority of the population maintaining a residence of some sort within the city boundaries. Each “country,” if they could so be called, was hardly larger than a day’s ride in each direction.

I bet the Norwood Grant alone is larger than most of these “states,”
Derian thought a trace complacently. It was good to know that not every foreign power was immediately a rival.

In the city, Harjeedian would request direction to the nearest temple complex dedicated to the worship of the Divine Elements. There he would usually be welcomed with a mixture of warmth and respect, the one moderating the other depending on those in charge. Harjeedian would begin by explaining that he was traveling as escort to not merely one, but five of the Wise Beasts.

He usually didn’t need to say anything more. Quarters would be found for them and the yarimaimalom, and if Harjeedian requested a certain amount of privacy be given his companions, it would be given. In some cases, Derian thought their hosts were just as glad not to be asked to provide lavish hospitality.

In Truflad—the first place they had been where the name did not derive from Liglimosh—they had been offered a lovely river meadow in which to camp. Nor had they been expected to make do with what they had carried with them. The resident disdum had provided several pavilion-style tents, carpets, heaps of pillows, cots, and would have provided servants as well if Harjeedian had not declined.

Somewhere along the line, their hosts would politely inquire about Derian’s foreign appearance—Firekeeper and Plik usually kept out of sight as much as possible—and in the process of explaining, Harjeedian would manage to slip in something that would make the resident aridisdum realize Harjeedian’s own relationship to the new junjaldisdu. The already ample hospitality would reach near hysterical levels, for no one wanted to offend the brother of one of the rulers of the much larger power to the immediate north—or the ambassador from the still mysterious but evidently warlike powers farther up the coast.

At first, Derian felt a little uncomfortable about letting these people assume he was the ambassador rather than an assistant, then he realized that it didn’t matter. Ambassador Sailor had sent him. Moreover, Ambassador Sailor wasn’t present. Derian was the one they saw, the one they needed to impress.

Once the expedition was settled in their quarters or camp—the presence of the yarimaimalom, and a desire to cater to their comfort, meant they camped as often as not—Derian and Harjeedian would start making inquiries after both a place where people dressed after the style of the two unidentified figurines, and after the flame within a flame emblem.

Plik had provided good likenesses of both the emblem and the two figurines, and so the actual items did not need to be brought out. Their hosts were eager to be of assistance, but could rarely help them beyond eliminating their own city-state.

So it went until the expedition arrived in Gak. Gak had been named by a doctor who had been particularly influential in the post-Plague years. It was a prosperous city-state, somewhat larger than usual, and rather more to the west than many to which Truth had guided them to this point.

The Iron Mountains—or a kindred range—began farther west throughout southern lands than they did in Derian’s homeland, but as in Hawk Haven, the mountain range provided the boundary between “civilization” and wilderness. However, here there was no danger of humanity pressing that unofficial border. Gak was prosperous compared to her city-state neighbors, but there was ample room for growth.

Gak proved more ethnically mixed than any land they had encountered to this point, and for once Derian did not find his red hair and relatively pale skin drawing attention. Although the local language was close to Liglimosh, Derian caught fascinating echoes of what he was sure was Pellish, and what he was almost sure was the language spoken in Waterland.

Their host that night was Amiri, a garrulous aridisdu. Over a lengthy banquet, she and several others among the local disdum sought to offer some explanation for the local mixture of cultures and racial types.

“Gak was a prosperous land even before Divine Retribution,” Amiri said. “Because the Old World rulers sought to flee the disease by returning to their homelands, they went east. In turn, those who had no wish to be enslaved to the demands of this sudden exodus fled west.”

“Enslaved?” Derian asked.

“Enslaved,” a kidisdu replied. “There were not fleets enough to carry the rulers and their goods back to the Old World. I don’t know how it was in your homeland, but here those who were still strong enough to travel moved to the coast in a great body. They didn’t care about anything but getting away, and many a private person found himself a slave or worse.”

Amiri took up the tale. “Gak attracted a good number of these refugees. We were far from the coast, and the Old Country rulers had either died or departed as soon as they felt the hand of Divine Retribution upon them. Refugees were offered citizenship on the condition that they agree to take up arms to defend the land against invasion. Our earliest government was a militia of sorts. Today, we are a republic rather than a monarchy such as Bright Haven or theocracy like Liglim. Each clan sends a representative to our standing senate. The leaders of the senate are an elected triumvirate, each of which holds office for …”

Amiri smiled, pushing back fair hair from a high forehead. “But you do not care about our local political arrangements, no matter that we are very proud of them. They have enabled us to stand united, in contrast to some of our neighbors who are constantly at war over issues of race or religion.”

“I am very interested,” Harjeedian said. “But,” he went on with evident reluctance, “I am also a servant of my duty. We are seeking information about a pair of people we have reason to believe live in one of the city-states, probably in one that, like your own, shows some influence from the culture of Liglim.”

“The influence is here,” Amiri agreed, “but unlike in Liglim, you will not find our religious tradition the only one—or even the dominant one. This close to the mountains, the yarimaimalom have never needed to make truces with humans. Some come—I rather think as missionaries—to serve our needs, but there are wild ones we never see and …”

She lowered her voice and looked uncomfortable. “And who I fear do not share our faith.”

Harjeedian made a gesture indicating she should be at ease. “Once that would have startled me more than it does now. Contact with the lands to the north has meant realizing that not all peoples are as fortunate as we in …”

He stopped in midphrase. Obviously, what he had been about to say would have been less than completely polite.

Derian waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry. I won’t take offense. Someday our land’s different ways of interpreting what you would call divine will may be a problem, for now I’m willing to accept that you have your way and we have ours.”

Amiri looked at him with interest. “Are all your people so tolerant?”

“Probably not,” Derian admitted, “but our region contains numerous individual nations, many of which encompass larger populations and land areas than all I’ve seen of the city-states. It’s a rare child who doesn’t learn that there are people with other ways—and in any case, each family has its own ancestors and they’re no better or worse than the ancestors of their neighbors. Maybe that does lead to a certain degree of tolerance.”

“I think we could talk on these matters for days,” Amiri said, and those of the local disdum who had joined them for the meal made sounds of agreement. “However, I sincerely doubt that your yarimaimalom companions would tolerate such delay. You said you seek two people. Do you have names for them?”

Harjeedian shook his head. “No names, but we do have what may be a family emblem—or perhaps one associated with a particular church or clan. It is very little to go on, but Truth has given omens that this manner of searching is according to the divine will, and so we follow it.”

“And you?” Amiri asked Derian, her gaze shrewd. “Do you also follow the divine will?”

“Not quite,” Derian admitted. “It’s more like I follow that of Firekeeper.”

“The woman you introduced us to earlier,” Amiri said, “the one who seems a rather peculiar form of kidisdu.”

“That’s as good an explanation as any,” Derian said. “If we have time before we leave, I’ll tell you something of her history. For now, let’s leave it at this. She was raised—really—from when she was a very young child until somewhat over four years ago by a pack of Wise Wolves. She is closer to the yarimaimalom than to most humans, and when Truth became obsessed with finding these people, Firekeeper agreed to help.”