Wolf Hunting (55 page)

Harjeedian was proudly displaying a map he had drawn based upon the different information garnered from the four prisoners.

Firekeeper leaned forward to look, determined that this time the bird’s-eye view would make sense to her. She was dismayed to find that Harjeedian’s drawing represented nothing so much as a scattering of pebbles and twigs left by the retreating waters on the edge of a riverbank.

“This is a composite based on the four interviews,” Harjeedian was saying. “I have also collated in information we were given by the Meddler. Interestingly”—Firekeeper heard the grudging note in his voice—“the Meddler seems to have been honest with us. Where there are differences, the passage of time is ample explanation for them.”

“Passage of time?” Derian asked.

“New buildings, such as the entire New World gate complex,” Harjeedian said, pointing to one carefully shaded section, “and several other buildings. These all could have been added since the Meddler was imprisoned, and so was less able to roam.”

“I see,” Derian said. “Go on.”

Harjeedian tapped the map with a peeled length of apple wood. “Areas .about which I am fairly certain have been shaded in. Those about which I have more doubts are left as outlines. I did my best, but sometimes the language barrier did get in our way.”

“I wonder this,” Firekeeper said. “Why they all speak Liglimosh?”

Harjeedian gave a crisp nod of approval. “I wondered that as well. Ynamynet deigned to explain. They knew they were coming after someone who had broken through the copse barrier. They had half expected a rescue attempt. Since Plik spoke Liglimosh, the group that was assembled was selected from those who spoke some form of the language. Lachen’s native language is a form of Liglimosh. He had been teaching others.”

Firekeeper could guess why. An invasion would go a whole lot more smoothly if some of the invaders could talk to the locals. She said nothing, though. If Harjeedian hadn’t thought of this already, she had no desire to distract him from their immediate problem.

Derian tapped a series of roundish wedges that dominated the center of the map. “What are these?”

“Those are the gates,” Harjeedian said. He indicated one set placed off at a distance from the others. “This is the assemblage that connects to the New World.”

“So that’s where we would arrive,” Derian said. “Do you know which one?”

“Either this one, or this one,” Harjeedian said, indicating two segments. “I don’t think it matters much. The gates are housed in individual buildings, and each opens into the middle of the circle.”

“Are they guarded?” Firekeeper asked.

“I’m not sure,” Harjeedian admitted. “Both of the Once Dead did their best to assure me that they are. The Twice Dead were determinedly silent on the matter. What I think is that the general area is patrolled, but not each individual building. Let me finish the overview before we go into details.”

Firekeeper nodded, and settled back.

“Over here to the southwest,” Harjeedian said, indicating a shaded area, “is where Plik is being kept. I’m certain about this at least. I also have the impression the twins are nearby. One of the Twice Dead, Skea, mentioned something about having ‘stood watch’ there, so it seems fairly certain that Plik is under guard. It seems possible that the twins are as well.”

“So they are prisoners, too,”
Blind Seer said.
“Interesting.”

“Or,”
Firekeeper said,
“they are numbered among his jailers. They would have the advantage of speaking a language he would understand. I wonder if Skea learned some of his Liglimosh while standing guard. Of them all, he is the one I liked the most, but if he has been ambitious enough to learn a language from elsewhere …”

“He bears watching,”
Blind Seer agreed.

Harjeedian went on. “Something Lachen said—he is so angry at being captured that he let some interesting things slip—gave me the impression that human guards are not the only things we will need to attend to when we go after Plik. I think they used the blood briar to fence the area.

“These areas”—Harjeedian indicated various outlines west, southeast, and northeast of the central structures—“are where I have the impression that the Once and Twice Dead reside. My impression is that living quarters are communal and temporary.

“Over here”—Harjeedian pointed to a shaded section directly east of the gates—“is where the yarimaimalom are being held—caged and chained—in a menagerie.”

He paused, clearly to control his temper. Firekeeper felt sympathy for him, knowing that her own indignation at this news was nothing to the aridisdu’s. She was angry to learn that her worst suspicions were confirmed. Harjeedian was infuriated at the sacrilege that had been committed.

The people of Liglim would never even dream of holding the yarimaimalom against their will. They built facilities like u-Bishinti to house them, gave the yarimaimalom full run of their own cities and temples. Firekeeper found it mildly amusing that the imprisonment of Plik had not raised this same level of anger, but then Harjeedian did not believe that the maimalodalum spoke the deities’ will. He did believe the yarimaimalom did so.

“They’re alive, though,” Derian said. “Right?”

“Some of them,” Harjeedian said. “As Firekeeper has told us, some have died from the abuses heaped upon them.”

“We free yarimaimalom, too,” Firekeeper said. “I promise Onion and Half-Ear already. We free them all.”

Derian was studying the map again, less personally offended by what had been done to the yarimaimalom than the rest—or perhaps merely determined that they not stray too far from the matter at hand.

“These rectangles,” he said, pointing to structures to the northwest “You have some of them shaded.”

“Those are buildings used as headquarters,” Harjeedian said, “and as residences for the higher ranking Once Dead.”

“Strange place,” Derian commented. “It doesn’t seem quite real.”

Harjeedian nodded. “I felt the same way. Finally, something Lachen said helped me understand. This is no longer the place that the Meddler described—an active transit center. Nor is it a living city or town. It is more like a university, devoted to teaching how to use the gates—and also to researching their intricacies. My impression is that the nexus has only been active a generation, perhaps less, that the facility was deserted for a long time after Divine Retribution spread through its environs.”

“These Once Dead and Twice Dead,” Firekeeper said. “What are they?”

“The Once Dead are in charge. They are served by the Twice Dead in a wide variety of capacities.”

“So not every Twice Dead is a bruiser like Skea and Lachen?” Derian said. “I’m relieved.”

“So am I,” Harjeedian admitted with a small smile. “I am not completely certain what the relationship is between the two groups, nor would any tell me the source of those titles. All I could gather is that the Once Dead are superior to the Twice Dead—and that they consider themselves superior to just about anyone because they are the ones who actually work magic.”

Truth grumbled,
“I was wondering if he was going to get around to that. Firekeeper, ask Aridisdu Harjeedian if he has learned how to make the gates work.”

Firekeeper didn’t mind. She’d been wondering the same thing, and knew Harjeedian was more likely to answer if a respected member of the yarimaimalom was asking.

“Truth say, ‘Can you work gates?’”

Harjeedian pulled at his lower lip. “I can … or rather, Lachen and Ynamynet will work them for us. We need to provide them with the … fuel.”

“Blood,” Derian said bluntly. “It comes back to blood, doesn’t it?”

Harjeedian’s utter impassivity said more than any words would have done.

“Great.” Derian looked disgusted.

Firekeeper felt equally sick at the idea, but there was apparently no way around it.

“Blood here,” she said firmly. “How different than blood spilled there? We know we is to fight. We know we is maybe hurt. Still, we go.”

Harjeedian looked at her with a certain amount of respect.

“I’d never fancied you as a philosopher, Firekeeper,” he said.

Eshinarvash stamped one hoof.

“I can give a great deal more blood without it weakening me than can you little human things. Does the blood need to come from each who travels through the gates, or can one or two give more?”

Firekeeper relayed the question.

“I believe that the blood does not need to come from the travelers,” Harjeedian replied, “or rather, each needs give only a token smear so the gate will know them. If Eshinarvash will be so generous …”

The Wise Horse stamped a hoof again and nodded, his black-and-white mane floating with the vigor of his reply.

“Then if the matter of making the transit work is settled,” Harjeedian said, “we merely need to figure out what we will do on the other side.”

They spent a long time discussing and refining plans, Firekeeper translating for the various beasts as they offered opinions. Onion and Half-Ear, who had politely kept a distance while the companions weighed their options, gladly accepted an invitation to join in the councils.

At last a plan was roughed out.

They would go that very night. Darkness would be a disadvantage only for the two humans. Like Firekeeper, the ravens and Eshinarvash had some practice functioning in the dark. Attacking that night would also mean that the group on the other side of the gate would not have begun to worry about their absent number. If all went well, only a few guards, drowsing on their presumably secure island, would be awake.

So that they did not need to reduce their numbers to leave a guard behind, the company decided that they would bring the four prisoners with them.

“It should make them more willing to cooperate,” Harjeedian said cynically. “After all, they will be returning to familiar territory. The Meddler says the gates have only two end points, but what if he is wrong? What if the Old World sorcerers have learned some way to set someone adrift in a void that is neither here nor there?”

The prisoners would be bound, and the two Once Dead would be set up on Eshinarvash’s back. The Twice Dead would be permitted to walk, but the ravens would ride on their shoulders. As a raven’s horned beak could easily remove an ear or eye, this would be ample threat.

After they arrived, Bitter would go with one attack party, while Lovable went with the other, thereby enabling a message to be carried if something went wrong at either end. Truth and Eshinarvash would remain to hold the gate.

“And,” Derian said with some satisfaction, “the closeness of four of their own to our people will be some protection for the ravens and Eshinarvash. It’s almost a pleasure to be on the side taking hostages, rather than being one.”

Firekeeper noticed that Harjeedian stiffened, as though unsure if Derian meant to insult him, but only a tang in Derian’s sweat gave him away, and as Harjeedian could not smell this, he relaxed.

They decided that as soon as they left the gate building they would split their forces, mounting the rescues of Plik and the yarimaimalom simultaneously.

“When these are concluded,” Harjeedian said, “we can make every effort to rendezvous and return back here through the gate. Unhappily, this may be more difficult.”

“Why?” Firekeeper asked, although she had a fairly good idea.

“Because right now the Once Dead are cooperating for two reasons only. One, they know if they do not, we will capture those who come through the gate after them. Two, our eagerness to go through the gates is their best promise of returning to their fellows. Neither of those motives will prompt them to work their skills on our behalf again.”

Truth growled,
“We will have seen how it is done by then. Perhaps threatening them with having their own blood used rather than ours will prompt them.”

“Perhaps,” Harjeedian agreed, “but we cannot be certain of this.”

Truth’s tail lashed, her ears flattened to the rounded sides of her head. One did not need Firekeeper’s skill for understanding the speech of Beasts to know she was saying,
“I can be very persuasive.”

“So,” Derian said, “we could go there and find ourselves trapped, unable to return.”

“We must consider that possibility,” Harjeedian said. “However, there are ways we may be able to raise the odds of cooperation on the part of at least some of the Once Dead.”

“What?” Firekeeper said.

“We will have with us a small army of very angry yarimaimalom. We will have you and your singular skills. Could we possibly take some of their leaders captive?”

Firekeeper enjoyed the praise, but she did not promise anything rash.

“Perhaps,” she said. “How we know which are their Ones?”

“I have a few names,” Harjeedian said. “Lachen started threatening at one point … I cannot imagine he would threaten me with promises of what a cook or guard captain would do.”

“We can try,” Firekeeper said, “but maybe we no need to do this. Maybe we will be in, out, and away.”

“Maybe,”
said Blind Seer, slowly, as if he was tasting the idea,
“if we take the twins, they can work the gate for us. After all, didn’t they manage at least once?”

“That’s brilliant!” Harjeedian said when Firekeeper had translated the idea. “I had forgotten the twins. When Plik is rescued, they can be rescued as well.”

“Or taken prisoner,” Firekeeper said. “Simple. We bring away three, not one. Now, who goes where?”

Derian said, “I imagine that Onion and Half-Ear would make the best guides to where their families are kept. I’ll go with them. I’m used to taking orders from wolves, and they’ll certainly need someone with hands to undo latches and locks.”

Harjeedian gave a dry chuckle. “I cannot say I have Derian’s experience taking orders from wolves, but I am willing to try. More than one set of hands would be useful.”

Firekeeper nodded. “Blind Seer and I can get Plik and twins. Once free, Plik will be another to herd these twins if they not wish to come.”

“I only wish,” Harjeedian said, “that we had a third member of the wingéd folk to leave with the group at the gate. I hate to imagine our attack parties struggling back only to find that something has happened to the rear guard.”