Wolf's Blood (22 page)

“We have no desire to be exiles again, to face that isolation and ostracism. Many of us have children now. If we do not have children, we have apprentices or protégés. We can no longer think only of ourselves alone, but must think of their future as well. Therefore, we wish to assure you of our continued loyalty and support in whatever course of action you choose to adopt.

“We will even volunteer to accept limitations on our ability to use magic. Iron distorts our powers, in many cases makes them unusable. I will not pretend that wearing iron is pleasant. For me the sensation is one of dizziness, verging on vertigo, but I would suffer that rather than face the greater suffering of seeing the Reprieve ended. In this, as I said at the onset, I speak for my associates as well.”

Amelo bowed his head to indicate that he had finished, but he remained standing. Bryessidan scanned the row of seated Once Dead and found that the expression on each face mirrored Amelo’s own. Resignation touched with fear was there, but pride dominated. This was not the pride of arrogance or assumed superiority, but rather the pure pride that comes from willing self-sacrifice and clear resolve.

“Thank you, Amelo,” Bryessidan said, and was surprised to hear a note of tenderness in his voice. He cleared his throat. “Thank you all, not only for this offer, but for making it so freely. Please, bide a moment more while I speak to my associates.”

Bryessidan turned and faced the gathered delegates.

“We have heard a great deal this morning. We have learned things that merit careful meditation and discussion. Therefore, I suggest that we adjourn this meeting and meet again tomorrow or perhaps even the next day. when we will have had opportunity to think about what we have learned. Then, we may be better situated to decide if any further action needs to be taken in this matter of the closing of the gates to us by the Nexus Islanders. Does this meet with your approval?”

Delegates glanced at their partners, exchanged a few murmured words, but Bryessidan knew they would agree.

After a formal thanks was offered to the Once Dead. the meeting was adjourned. Many delegates stopped to speak with Bryessidan before they left. usually about something trivial or to thank him for his continued hospitality. Bryessidan heard these words for what they were: apologies for ever doubting his motivations. He took them for what they were: empty air.

As soon as he could get away, Bryessidan mounted the stairs to his private apartments, let his valets strip him of his formal garb. As he was cleaned and refreshed, Bryessidan thought of the words with which his father-in-law had greeted him, and wondered how the older man had known. Then he went to where his children were gathered at play, or. in the case of the older two, pretending to study.

They swarmed to him. reassured by his presence as by nothing else, and as Bryessidan let himself relax in noisy babble, he found himself thinking again about Skea and Ynamynet, and wondering if they had indeed contrived at murder and revolution to keep their little girl safe.

He thought, too, how sad it was that if Hurwin proved prophet, he and his people were likely to be at war against these loving parents sometime in the not too distant future.

XI

  FIREKEEPER AND BLIND Seer left for Misheemnekuru the second evening after their talk with Derian and Plik. They would have left sooner, but both Harjeedian and Derian wanted to review in some detail all the things Firekeeper must say—and more importantly, must not say.

Aware of the importance of her mission, Firekeeper had listened carefully. She had learned there was more than one kind of hunt—and that in matters of diplomacy the cost of failure could be paid in lives rather than by a hungry belly.

Even with traveling from twilight through early morning, the trip took a good number of days. Unlike a human, Firekeeper did not count them off, nor worry. She knew that she and Blind Seer were moving as quickly as was reasonable, and also that news that had kept for over a hundred years would not spoil for a few days more. Nonetheless, she found herself waking each morning plagued by a strange sense of urgency, and wondered what the Meddler might have been whispering into her dreams.

The wolves arrived in the vicinity of u-Seeheera, the capital city of Liglim, well before nightfall. They chose to lie up in the forests that bordered the city rather than causing a stir by walking the streets in broad daylight. In u-Seeheera, the fuss would not be caused by the sight of an enormous wolf walking the streets at a human’s side. The Liglimom had a close—uniquely so, as far as Firekeeper knew—relationship with the Wise Beasts. The yarimaimalom were both welcomed and honored in their cities—indeed, even in their homes.

The stir Firekeeper and Blind Seer would have created would have been for themselves. They had spent time in u-Seeheera, first as captives, later, after a fashion, as guests. They had been of some service to the Liglimom at that time. Although the average person had no idea exactly what the wolves had done, rumors and whisperings enough had been exchanged that the sight of the two would have been seen as some sort of omen.

Of course, the Liglimom saw omens in nearly everything, but Firekeeper didn’t care to be the source of a new one.

While the wolves napped in a shady thicket, a broad-winged raven dipped over their resting place, before gliding in and landing on a tree limb well out of their reach.

“A message arrived several days ago that you were to be expected,” the raven said.

“Kind of you to seek us out,” Firekeeper said lazily.

She thought she knew this raven from the time she and Blind Seer had lived on Misheemnekuru. Wolves and ravens often keep company, and unlike the land-dwelling residents of the Sanctuary Islands, the winged folk went between the places regularly.

“I thought so,” the raven agreed.

“We have hunted together,” Blind Seer said, his more sensitive nose clarifying Firekeeper’s subjective impressions. “You were a year beyond hatching, and already possessed of a powerful voice. ‘Shouter’ they called you then.”

“‘Shouter’ they call me still,” the raven said, bobbing a bit to express his pleasure. “I have come to the mainland to learn a bit more about humans. Over and over again my elders have told me that what I thought I had learned about humans while hunting with Firekeeper was useless.”

“At least for understanding humans,” Firekeeper agreed, laughing.

“I have some information for you,” Shouter said.

This did not sunrise Firekeeper in the least. She’d expected this from the moment the raven had arrived, but had known better than to press. Ravens were chatty folk, and refusing them the opportunity to talk only made them sulk.

“We would like to know it,” she said politely.

“If you still wish to go to Misheemnekuru,” Shouter went on, “a boat will be waiting for you—is waiting for you—at the Temple of Water in the harbor. A crew will be ready at your need.”

“Have they been waiting all this time?” Firekeeper asked in some alarm. She enjoyed her privileges—no wolf did not—but she also knew humans could become very unpleasant if asked to wait on someone else’s leisure.

“Only since earlier this afternoon when the omens,” Shouter puffed his feathers in a fashion that made clear he had contributed to those omens. “indicated that the boat requested by the junjaldisdu Rahniseeta in response to a letter written by her brother, the aridisdu Harjeedian, might be needed.”

Firekeeper did not ask how any had known they were coming. She and Blind Seer had hidden their trail from human notice, but had made no effort to do so from that of the Beasts. She wondered if such would even be possible.

“We thank you,” Blind Seer said. “Would you do us the favor of carrying a small message to those who wait? We would like to sail after dark—if the omens and the tides will permit.”

“I would carry such a message.” Shouter said. “but I cannot speak to humans as Firekeeper can, and the aridisdu on duty might not take omens from a land bird such as myself.”

“I am sure you would manage,” Firekeeper said, “but Blind Seer and I have worked out something that should serve.”

She was rather proud of herself for this. Blind Seer was always pestering her to learn to read and write, and, frankly, she had not been the best of students. However, during her first visit to Misheemnekuru, she had learned a few simple written signs so that she could reassure Derian that she was well when circumstances had forced them apart.

Since then she had learned a few more, including signs indicating the numbers for one through nine. Now she plucked a broad leaf from a nearby tree and with a sharp stick etched the back with moon and stars (indicating night or darkness) and a boat. Dark lines appeared clear in contrast against the pale leaf back. She signed the missive with a rough outline of a human hand with a wolf’s paw beside it, a sign that had become her and Blind Seer’s signature.

“There,” she said, extending the leaf to Shouter. “Hold that by the stem and the writing will not be marred. Those who read it will know they need not stand ready until after dark. If for some reason they cannot sail then, perhaps you can tell us.”

“Where will you be?” Shouter asked, accepting the leaf. “Still here?

“When twilight comes, we are going to the Bright Haven embassy,” Firekeeper said. “Fewer humans are about then, and we would like to see our friends.”

“Then I will know where to look,” Shouter said.

They chatted for a while more. Shouter shared the most recent gossip about their mutual friends on Misheemnekuru. Firekeeper did not doubt that he had gathered news as soon as he heard they were coming, as a squirrel hoarded nuts for winter. Then the raven flapped down toward the Temple of Water.

The wolves, hearing a change in the hum of the city noise, and knowing that they could move through the parks without exciting much notice, went down to the large building near the harbor that housed the Bright Haven embassy.

The wolves’ appearance at the front entrance excited only a little excitement, and that was the excitement of welcome, rather than that of surprise. Derian had written ahead, letting the occupants know to expect them, and within moments the pair were admitted and a runner sent to find if Lady Archer or Sir Jared were present.

Firekeeper’s relation to the peculiar entity that called itself Bright Haven was almost as odd as the kingdom itself. Technically, Bright Haven did not yet exist, would not exist until the deaths of both of the current reigning monarchs of Bright Bay and Hawk Haven. These were rival nations, splinters of the same Old World colony, that had fought each other for decades after the Plague had sent those who had governed either into death or back to the Old World.

The rivals had finally become allies some four years before, and were gradually accustoming their residents to trade old angers for new friendships. This was not as impossible as it might seem, for the lands shared a common language and similar customs. Some associations, such as trade guilds, had often conducted business as if the two governments had never split. The policy of these allied lands was to start the merging gradually, even before the deaths of the current monarchs, and this embassy to Liglim was one of the boldest declarations that Bright Haven was the nation—Hawk Haven and Bright Bay were the fictions.

From the start of her association with humans, Firekeeper had been considered a citizen of Hawk Haven—at least by the humans. She was the sole survivor of a small settlement started by Prince Barden, the youngest son of the current king, Tedric. Her precise parentage had been unknown to her, for she remembered nothing of her life before becoming a wolf. Nor did she particularly care.

If some of the humans wanted to believe that Firekeeper might be the daughter of Prince Barden and his wife, Eirene—records showed there had been a daughter—then that was fine with Firekeeper. If Earl Kestrel of the Northwoods. wanted to adopt her as his daughter and name her “Lady Blysse,” that was fine, too. What mattered to the wolf-woman was whether they tried to imprison her or otherwise restrict her choice of action. After a few had tried to coerce her, Firekeeper had shown that winning her friendship worked far better than any coercion.

So, these days humans probably thought of her as a citizen of this new Bright Haven. Firekeeper didn’t mind this newest designation, for that meant that she and Blind Seer could easily go visit those humans who meant the most to them both. Derian certainly came first, but after him, Lady Archer and Sir Jared were among those given highest preference.

The Liglimom had been generous when giving Bright Haven a place to situate an embassy, turning over a large building near the harbor. That this same building had once served as an informal prison for the very first northerners to set foot in Liglim for over a hundred years did not matter to the new residents. What mattered was that they held the keys to the heavy gates, and that the four wings built around a large central courtyard gave ample room for both offices and private residences.

Not long before, the huge building would have seemed intimidating to Firekeeper, but after living among the semiruined structures on the Nexus Islands, it seemed about right.