Wolf's Blood (30 page)

The library also had magical lighting, blocks set into the walls and ceiling that glowed bright without glare. These, Urgana had told them, had been in place, but without power, when she and her allies had arrived ten years or so before. Later, they had been repowered by one of the Once Dead for whose deaths Derian and his allies had been—if indirectly—responsible.

And someday, perhaps not too long from now, he thought, we will need to decide whether we, too, cannot do without these little comforts, and whether we will accept the price we must pay—in blood—to obtain them.

But maybe he would be gone by then, back to being a horse carter’s son and sometime advisor to royalty. Derian reached up and touched his elongated ears and knew that unless a miracle happened, this would never be so. The Nexus Islands, or some place like them, where he would be accepted despite his strangeness, would be his only home for the rest of his life.

Harjeedian motioned them all to take seats at one of the long, wide tables set down the middle of the room. It was some measure of how seriously Firekeeper was taking all of this that she not only accepted a seat for herself, but also pulled out one of the heavy wooden chairs for Blind Seer. The wolf leapt lightly up and seated himself, head and chest rising well above the table’s polished surface.

While the others were settling themselves, Harjeedian went and inspected the shelves, finally pulling down a pair of fat volumes. One of these he set in front of Urgana.

“It will take us a minute or so to find what we are seeking,” he said, carefully turning the brittle pages as he spoke. “These books are codices of the heraldic emblems associated with specific spellcasters and other highly magically talented people. As best we can tell, these emblems were only assigned to those who had received formal training in some aspect of the magical arts. A local gardener with a green thumb, let us say, who never stirred from her local plot would not have been assigned such an emblem, not even if she was so talented that she could make a tree grow from a seed to a fruiting plant within a single day.”

“So the emblems,” Derian said, “indicate initiation to some organization: a guild or sodality or something like that.”

“That is what we think,” Harjeedian said. “As with so many of the texts preserved here. the problem is that no one bothers to put down in writing what ‘everyone’ already knows.”

Firekeeper said. “Blind Seer ask, ‘All the pictures he see on the page have animals. Did all the sorcerers choose animals as their emblems?’”

Urgana looked over at the wolf, slightly startled, for although all of the Nexans had become accustomed to treating the Wise Beasts as something like equals, very few of those beasts showed any interest in printed matter—and those who did were usually avians. However, she answered with an ease that reminded Derian that her heritage, unlike his own, had long accepted the idea of animals having thoughts to communicate.

“No, Blind Seer. all the sorcerers did not choose animal emblems.” She indicated the floor-to-ceiling series of shelves from which Harjeedian had taken the two volumes. “That entire series of volumes lists emblems. Some use natural features like sunbeams or storm clouds. Others use tools or articles of attire. Some use symbols whose meaning are a mystery to us. The volumes, however, are arranged by category. These two that Harjeedian pulled for us to inspect concentrate on larger herbivores: horses, various types of castle, sheep, and goats.”

She had not stopped turning the pages as she spoke, and Derian thought that was why Firekeeper did not fidget. Certainly, the wolf-woman was not bored. She was strung as tightly as a bowstring. Next to her, Blind Seer—even sitting bolt-upright as he was—looked relaxed by contrast.

“The emblems,” Urgana continued, “are detailed one to a page, with basic details about the person to whom the emblem has been assigned given in several languages beneath the picture.”

“Heraldry,” Derian said. “Good. Did you notice this mountain sheep Firekeeper mentioned?”

“Not in particular,” Harjeedian said, “but it sounds like the type of emblem that would be recorded here.”

“What if is not emblem but is person?” Firekeeper asked. “Vanviko story is about person, sheep that laughs, not emblem.”

“Still,” Harjeedian said, never pausing in his rhythmic page turning, “I would be willing to bet …”

Silence but for the chuffing noise of stiff pages being turned came to occupy the room. Once or twice Harjeedian or Urgana would pause, but always after reading the text beneath the drawing, they would go back to turning pages.

Derian found himself wondering if the emblem would be there. Perhaps the mountain sheep was just some very odd Royal Beast or maimalodalum. Perhaps if it was a heraldic emblem, it belonged to some more conventional heraldry, a royal family or warrior clan. But then hadn’t all the rulers in the Old World been sorcerers?

He was musing over this point when Urgana gave a small, sharp cry, almost as if she were in pain, but when Derian half rose from his seat to go to her aid, he found she was smiling with thinly veiled triumph. Here for a moment was the proud young woman whose skills as a researcher had given her value to sorcerers and kings.

“You have!” Firekeeper said. “Hold up! Show!”

Urgana did so. There on the page, painted in colors still brilliant despite the passage of over a century, was a stylized rendering of the very creature they sought. There was a mountain sheep, filled with the arrogant glory very few herbivores share with those that prey upon them. The curling horns glittered with imprisoned rainbows, their natural ridges sharpened and faceted. The hooves, poised to balance the creature at the edge of a rocky crevice, were shining gold. The eyes held an expression that was strangely knowing.

“This emblem belonged to a man named Virim. His nationality seems to have been mixed, with his father from Pelland, and his mother from Tishiolo. His date of birth is given in one of the older classifications. Give me a moment …”

She did some calculations with her fingertip against the glossy surface of the table, frowned, did them once more, and then rubbed the entire thing out.

“I must have done one of the conversions wrong. For these dates to be right, Virim would have had to be over a hundred and sixty when Divine Retribution struck. Never mind. That’s not important. What is interesting, is that these notes seem to indicate that Virim had close ties with the New World. There is a note that he was educated at Azure Towers, which is where those from the New World who developed magical abilities were educated.”

“Do the notes say anything else about this Virim?” Derian asked. “Where he lived? Who were his teachers? Anything? I’m wondering if Bhaharahma’s mentor might have known this Virim.”

“A few names are listed, but neither Bhaharahma’s nor that of his mentor,” Urgana said, “so finding a link between them—even if there is one—may not be so easy. Still, there may be more details in the notes Firekeeper brought back with her from Misheemnekuru.”

“We’ll examine those records, of course,” Harjeedian said, “and look through the library here for other references to this Virim. Until now, we have been searching blind, afraid to neglect anything lest we overlook something essential. This will help narrow our search a great deal.”

“There may be no need to undertake such extensive research, Harjeedian,” said a strong, male voice, speaking from off to one side of the room. “I know who Virim is, and I would be more than happy to share with you everything I know.”

Derian turned his head, knowing already who he would see. There, leaning against a shelf loaded with books, his form almost but not quite solid, was the Meddler.

XV

  KING BRYESSIDAN OF the Mires stared out a high window at the moon. That orb had been waxing when the decision had been made to seriously consider some sort of invasion of the Nexus Islands. Now it had passed full and was nightly waning. Twelve days had passed since that fateful meeting, and in twelve days a certain number of things had been decided.

Hearthome and Azure Towers, the two lands physically closest to the Kingdom of the Mires, had sent word that they would join in the venture. Queen Iline of Hearthome had even offered to have her land serve as a base of operations. There were reasons to consider accepting that offer. For one, Hearthome was more centrally located. For another, it possessed better roads and better harbors than did the Mires, but Bryessidan found himself oddly uncertain about giving up the marginal command that had been his—even though he remained uncertain about whether he was actually in favor of the planned invasion.

For planned it now was, even if no other land chose to join them. Four nations had agreed to join in the venture: the Mires, Tavetch, Azure Towers, and Hearthome. Bryessidan firmly expected Pelland to join as well. Not to do so would be to forever relinquish claims to supremacy the rulers of Pelland had held since the days of the Sorcerer’s Bane.

He was less certain about u-Chival and Tishiolo, but four nations—probably five—were enough. So it would be war.

Bryessidan felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, already knowing who would be there. Gidji smiled at him.

“Want to tell me what has you so serious?”

He didn’t attempt to evade. If he went to war, she would need to rule the Mires as regent.

“War. Whether I should try and insist that the invasion is coordinated from here.”

“As opposed to Hearthome?”

He nodded.

“Let Hearthome coordinate it,” Gidji said immediately. “They do have the better location, and that means they will be the ones who need to invite the armies and navies of other nations within their borders.”

Bryessidan stared at her. Wonder at her brilliance mingled with self-derision at his own lack of insight.

I was so caught up in my own self-importance, my own concern regarding the prominence I might lose that I never thought about the possible cost to the Mires.

He kissed her lightly, astonishing Gidji. for he usually took care not to mingle affection and matters of state. Her sky-blue eyes momentarily widened with delight.

“That.” Bryessidan said with deliberation, “is a matter I had failed to take into consideration. I wonder if Queen Iline regrets her offer?”

“Probably not,” Gidji said. “Remember, she is constantly concerned about conflicting factions within her own land. Having foreigners for the factions to worry about will slow their internal intriguing. If her offer is accepted, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that some of the most troublesome have been ‘honored’ with incredibly time-consuming and laborious tasks.”

Bryessidan grinned. “I think you are almost certainly correct. I will consult with my ministers, but unless one of them has a telling reason why Queen Iline’s offer should not be accepted, I believe a courier will be heading to Hearthome before the sun sets tomorrow.”

Gidji said, “I would not mind attending that meeting.”

Bryessidan nodded. “By all means. If I find myself involved in war, you will be regent. You must know all the details.”

“Then you plan to lead our forces yourself?” Gidji said.

“I had thought to do so,” Bryessidan said. “I will not go to sea with the fleet. That would put me too out of touch, but if we were able to break through via the gates … Well, I’ve actually been to the Nexus Islands. Admittedly, it was a long time ago, but that’s more than most of those who will be fighting for the Mires can claim.”

“A good point,” Gidji said, thoughtfully. “Actually, it is a claim most of our allies could not make either. Even those of us who have used the gates have not been beyond the gate facility. The Once Dead did not welcome tourists.”

“I know,” Bryessidan said, “but when the Nexus Islands were in my father’s control I did visit them repeatedly. Much will have changed, but some things will not have done so.”

Gidji nodded. “Has there been any discussion of who would command the invasion? My father will command the fleet, of that I have no doubt, but what about the land forces?”

Bryessidan shook his head. “I don’t think anyone has considered. If we do manage an invasion via the gates, the forces will need to originate from numerous points. The more gates that come active all at once, the more fronts the Nexans will need to cover.”

“Yes,” Gidji agreed, “but once the gates have been breached and the forces are flowing through, then someone will need to coordinate them. Four or five or six separate armies, arriving two by two and waiting for their commanders, is a recipe for disaster, but if one brave leader is willing to go through with the first or second wave and coordinate the troops as they arrive, then success would be assured.”

Newly humbled by the blindness into which his pride had almost led him, Bryessidan could not feel certain that she was recommending him.

Almost hesitantly he asked, “And do you have a recommendation for that commander?”

Gidji met his eyes squarely. “I would recommend you. As you say, you know something of the terrain. You were reared amid your father’s wars and their aftermath. I do not think you will spend lives lightly. You know the rewards of war, but you also know its costs.”