Wolf's Blood (100 page)

“He would be in a position to resume the life—the existence rather—that he had before he came into my body. He would be no worse off than before. I would be free of a tenant whom I did not invite. You would be free of the problem of a meddler with all my abilities. It is not a perfect solution, but it is one that would permit us both—and Arasan—to go on living.”

The debate that followed was all the more intense for the awareness that Arasan might be slipping into his final sleep even as they tried to decide whether they could handle the consequences of letting him have a chance at life.

Finally, Firekeeper broke in. “You speak of us giving you ‘education.’ You mean by this you stay on Nexus Islands?”

“I will stay here,” Virim said. “That I promise, and I will swear it on anything you would like. There were some very binding oaths in the old days. I could even teach you a few. Firekeeper, once I thought I knew all the answers, and I had the arrogance to act on those answers. Now I know that I do not, and that actions I thought would save those I valued from pain and suffering did so in the short term, but may have made matters far worse in the end. I no longer want to change the world. I want to make amends.”

Firekeeper wasn’t about to accept this humble statement without further pressing, “And the Meddler? How do he feel?”

Virim’s beard twitched as he smiled. “Ask him yourself.”

This time the transition went more quickly, and from something in the eyes that were now the Meddler’s, Plik suspected that Virim had kept some sort of control of the body. Even so, he thought they could trust whatever the Meddler said.

After all
, Plik thought,
once the Meddler is free from Virim’s control, he could—and certainly would—say whatever he likes.

Firekeeper also seemed aware of the transformation.

“So, Meddler,” she said. “What think you?”

“I think,” the Meddler said, “I am willing to take up the challenge Virim has offered, especially since the alternatives seems to be either remaining under his control or risking having us both slain as a threat to the safety of the Nexus Islands.”

Ynamynet commented, “You would not be immune to such a penalty, Meddler. We will expect you to live by the same rules as the rest of the community, even if you are some sort of deity.”

The Meddler gave a tight smile. “I have never claimed to be a deity, only a meddler, and as such I am hardly unique.”

He gave Firekeeper a particularly stern look, but the wolf-woman did not seem in the least perturbed.

Firekeeper glanced at Blind Seer. Then, despite her awkward sprawl across the chair, she rose to her feet in one lithe motion. It was noticeable that her Fang was still in her hand, sunlight glinting both off the blade and the cabochon-cut garnet in the hilt, one bright, the other bloody.

Rather like the decision we must make
, Plik thought.

“So,” Firekeeper said, “what is this we do? I bring this to you, my pack, and I will do as my pack decides.”

Derian gave her an approving smile. “If we are to vote on this, no one should feel pressured by what his or her neighbor thinks. Isende, do we still have the pieces of that cup I broke?”

“I can get them.” she said, hurrying into the house and emerging a moment later with pieces of a clay mug and a deep ceramic jar.

Plik watched her carefully for any sign of resentment that the Meddler/Virim was to be given a chance at life, when Tiniel, who had, after all, done his harm and would be unlikely to do any more, had been executed without debate. Not the least bit of anger showed on her features, only worry.

And given the choice we have to make,
Plik thought,
I cannot blame her in the least.

When Isende went into the house. Derian had begun picking up pebbles from the ground. Now each person was given both a pebble and a piece of pottery.

“Pebble says you favor giving Virim’s plan a chance. Pottery says you do not favor it, and believe we need further discussion.”

Wort looked at the two items in his hand. “Shouldn’t we assemble all the community?”

Zebel spoke before Derian or Ynamynet could reply.

“Arasan may not last out the hour. much less the time it would take to assemble, explain the matter, and then vote. If you feel that this issue needs to be brought before the community as a whole, then by all means, you should vote in favor of a delay.”

“But that delay could be fatal for Arasan.” Wort said.

“Quite possibly.” Zebel said, “but remember, what Virim has suggested may not save Arasan—he may choose against it—so you must choose what you feel is best with the larger, not the smaller, picture in mind.”

Wort nodded, the serious, thoughtful expression on his face replicated over and over again among the group.

“I offer my hands to help those of the yarimaimalom who need someone to drop in their piece.” Plik said.

Derian colored. “I forgot about that. Thanks, Plik.”

The voting went quickly enough. Isende had thoughtfully lined the bottom of the jar with a dishcloth so that sound would not give away who voted what way. When the jar had gone around the circle, Derian and Ynamynet moved to the front and spilled out the contents onto one of the blankets where everyone could see.

Neither pottery nor pebbles dominated, but as the count progressed a clear majority was shown in favor of letting Virim’s odd experiment be tried.

“We’ll keep an eye on you both,” Wort said, his voice hard and tough. “We’ve had enough of being shoved around by powerful spellcasters, just you remember that.”

“We will,” Virim said. “I assure you. We will.”

XLIX

  TWO DAYS AFTER she had called the meeting that had ultimately freed her from sole responsibility for Virim and the Meddler, Firekeeper and Blind Seer walked into the infirmary.

The rooms were a great deal more empty than they had been. A few of the more severely injured who still needed bandages changed or help getting to and from the pot or whose residences were. for one reason or another, ill equipped for one with their particular injury remained in one room. Even the few yarimaimalom who were accepting human aid were here.

Another room held but one tenant, and it was to that room, after greeting her friends in the common room, that Firekeeper and Blind Seer went.

Zebel was bending over the bed in which Arasan lay, propped up against a heap of pillows and breathing hoarsely. Derian stood nearby, holding a pot containing something that smelled foul. He looked very worried. Ynamynet, Sunshine in her lap, sat to one side, and her own expression of concern lightened when she saw Firekeeper and Blind Seer.

“Zebel,” she said softly. “They’re here.”

Zebel glanced up, then back down at the man on the bed.

“Arasan,” he said, “Firekeeper is here. Now, calm down before you do yourself an injury. Firekeeper, come over here so he can see you.”

As Firekeeper moved to obey, Derian explained, “The Meddler heard you were leaving the Nexus Islands, and insisted he had to see you. When we didn’t find you right away, and someone said they thought you might have already gated out, he grew so agitated we thought he might cause himself—themselves, him and Arasan—irreparable harm.”

“Blind Seer and I were talking with Truth,” Firekeeper said, “by the rocks she likes. We went into little cave, so she not get so distracted by every little thing that moves. You know how she is.”

“That explains why even Elation couldn’t find you,” Derian said.

“You should have howled,” Firekeeper said. “We would have heated.”

Derian gave her a look that said as clearly as words that not everyone cared for the sound of wolf howls, and Firekeeper twitched her mouth in a small smile.

“What he want?” she asked.

From the bed, the Meddler spoke in Arasan’s musical voice. The words came faint and weakly, for the injuries that had nearly killed Arasan’s body were slow to heal, even with the Meddler’s meddling. That they were healing at all was what Zebel called a miracle, and Firekeeper, far more practical in her outlook, took as proof that the Meddler did indeed want to continue living.

“I wanted a chance to tell you that I haven’t given up on someday winning your love, Firekeeper.”

Ynamynet’s eyebrows rose, and her arms tightened around Sunshine so that the little girl squirmed. Derian looked startled. He glanced over at Blind Seer, but although the blue-eyed wolf had stiffened and his hackles had risen, he did not growl.

Firekeeper had long ago confided all that had happened between her and the Meddler to Blind Seer—even the Meddler’s confessions of love and her own early reactions to that interest.

When she had told Blind Seer what the Meddler had tried to do to her in the name of that love, the blue-eyed wolf had not been pleased. Wolf-like, he had wanted to rip out the Meddler’s throat, but Firekeeper had dissuaded him on the grounds that since that throat also belonged to Arasan, the situation could become awkward.

And she had said more, and now she tried to share those thoughts with the Meddler.

“I not understand what this is you call love,” she said.

“I adore you,” the Meddler began. “You fascinate me. I want you with me always. I want …”

“You want,” Firekeeper interrupted. “You not seem to care what I want. I not want you. I know who I want, and he is not you.”

She laid a hand on Blind Seer’s head, just in case the Meddler retained the least bit of confusion about who she meant.

“But, Firekeeper, can’t you understand?” the Meddler’s voice had risen with the force of his protest, and now he began to cough.

Zebel made him sip something that smelled strongly of honey, but when he suggested the sick man lay back, the Meddler refused.

“I need to talk to her,” he said peevishly. “I need to explain that she’s making a horrible error.”

Firekeeper tilted her head to one side in a wolfish query.

“What error?”

“How can you let yourself believe you love a wolf?” the Meddler said. “You are human, no matter what you choose to think. You are not a wolf. You must give your love to another human, not to a Beast, no matter how noble and intelligent and talented that Beast may be.”

Blind Seer growled, “
I am glad you think so highly of me, Meddler, but take care
.”

Firekeeper did not translate, for she knew the Meddler would understand, but she saw the three humans stiffen and realized they thought Blind Seer was about to attack. Zebel, indeed, had, with more courage than wisdom, moved to insinuate his body between the wolf and his patient.

Firekeeper hastened to reassure them.

“Blind Seer not hurt the Meddler. He remember is Arasan, too.”

She returned her attention to the man on the bed. He was—or would be, when the healing was completed—a handsome figure of a man, but she felt not the least stirring in her heart or her body when she looked at him.

“Meddler, I have thinked …”

“Thought,” Derian muttered reflexively.

“Thought a great deal about this,” Firekeeper continued, choosing her words with care.

A long time ago, Derian had told her a poorly chosen word was like tainted water and could create sickness. Then she had not believed him, but now she had seen enough that she knew her friend had been right.

“In my thinking,” she went on, “I have tried to understand what is meant by love. First, I thought about mating, but I think that love is more than mating. Humans are different than wolves in this, because they are in season almost all the time and so their heads confuse desire and love. I think this is one way the wolf way is wiser. Wolves are only in season for a short time each year, and even then, for the good of the pack, only the Ones breed.”

She drew in a deep breath, knowing she was oversimplifying, but knowing this must be said, even if this talk of mating was making Derian’s face turn a little red.

“Wolves understand,” Firekeeper continued, “that love is for more. Love is trusting someone will guard your back. Love is knowing that when you are wounded, that your loved one will drag food to where you are fallen. Love is knowing that you would do this for the other, even if doing that means going hungry for yourself. Love is knowing that when you die, someone will care enough to sing of you to the moon.”

The Meddler was staring at her in such complete silence and with such profound attention that Firekeeper wondered if Arasan was making him listen rather than think about what clever thing he would say next. She hurried her words along lest the moment be lost.

“You, and not just you, some others who think they mean well for me—and for Blind Seer—have spoken about how our hearts loving means nothing because our shapes are different. For a time, I let this confuse me. Then I came to know more and more people who loved, and I realized that this matter of shape was all a twisting, turning mass of vines, something that seemed more massive than it was.

“When Bitter was mutilated by the blood briar, Lovable did not stop loving him. She nearly died trying to save him. Afterwards, he was ugly, but no one said, ‘Lovable, find yourself a strong young mate. This hurt bird cannot fly well.’ I think, even, that if Lovable had left Bitter, then everyone would have thought her weak.”