Wolf's Blood (32 page)

“In any case, why should anyone bother? Now the lands east of the mountains, a considerable amount of new territory, were exclusively under human control. Moreover, although the losses had not been enough to force a retreat, the humans had not come through the battles with the Royal Beasts unscathed. The time had come to settle in, to claim new territories, and—and this cannot be overlooked if you are to understand Virim—to fight among themselves.”

Harjeedian frowned thoughtfully. “I believe I understand better than I would have a few years ago. The Old World sorcerers did not cooperate easily. While they had a common opponent, they would have done so, but when that opponent retreated, then they would return to old feuds.”

“Good,” the Meddler said. “Now, consider what happens when you have men and women of that temperament, and at least some of these men and women have found the means to extend their natural life spans. Their sons and daughters—for they did have children—see no end to parental authority. There will be no inheritance coming to them, no openings at the top. Therefore, either they must make those openings, or they must find new places to assert themselves.”

“Ugly,” Derian said.

Firekeeper wondered if he was thinking of the battles a few years ago when the throne of Hawk Haven had been considered open. That would have been nothing to what the Meddler described, for at least in that battle families had stood together—or mostly so—rather than tearing into each other.

The Meddler waited, studying their expressions in perfect silence.

Finally, Firekeeper said, “But this Virim was different? He thought the New World should be for Royal Beasts and Cousins, not for humans?”

“That is what he said,” the Meddler agreed, “not at first, because at first he was a young man, not in a position to speak out in such a fashion. Later, however, when he was an older man and a new onslaught west began to be discussed, then Virim spoke out.”

Derian said, “This wouldn’t happen to be shortly before the Plague occurred, would it?”

The Meddler shook his head. “Not shortly, not if by that you mean by time as measured by the turning of the moon. Shortly, however, if you mean within a few years before the Plague. Virim spoke first. His speeches made a difference initially.”

Harjeedian raised a finger. “Pause a moment, Meddler. From what you told us before, you were imprisoned for many, many years before the Plague was released. How is it that you know of this, then?”

The Meddler grinned. “Because it was before I was imprisoned, of course. As I said, at first Virim was successful. He was not the only one against expansion further west. There were a few who were opposed because they were idealists and wished to honor the treaties with the Royal Beasts. There were those who were opposed because they had troubles in either their homelands or in the colonies they already held, and they did not have the resources to spare …”

“And didn’t want anyone getting ahead of them,” Derian said.

“Right,” the Meddler agreed. “There were those who were opposed because they were still developing those lands they already held, and did not wish to divert resources. Virim had many allies in those early years. My guess is that as time passed, all but the idealists dropped away, and, sadly, even idealists change their ideals.”

“And you are guessing,” Derian said, “that at some point Virim decided he must win—even if that meant taking drastic action, even if that meant something like the Plague.”

“There are some telling elements,” the Meddler said, “above and beyond the vision to which Firekeeper and Blind Seer found reference. For one, although the Plague fastened onto anyone with magical ability, it spared the Royal Beasts, many of whom have some talent. For another, it began in the New World, forcing a retreat from those lands, leaving the human population weak enough that, should the Royal Beasts choose, they could probably wipe out the remaining humans, even today when the human population has done a very fine job of recovering.”

Firekeeper stirred at this, thinking of arguments she had heard. There were those among the Royal Beasts—maybe even among the Wise Beasts—who desired the elimination of humans from the New World. However, thus far they had not been pressed to act. If threatened, the varying bloods that made up the Royal Beasts might indeed ally for a time, and then humans would find out how vulnerable they were.

And where would I stand?
she thought
. Could I, like this Virim, wipe out my own kind—whether Beasts or humans—favor one over the other?

She shivered at the thought, and Blind Seer turned his head to lick her arm in comfort.

“So we must hunt out more on this Virim,” she said aloud. “Where did he lair? Who were his kin? Meddler, you say he was very old, even when Plague come. Could he be alive even now?”

The Meddler shrugged. “I don’t know. I wonder if he might have died, perhaps a generation or so back.”

Urgana looked at the Meddler sharply. “When those with magical ability began to survive.”

“When, although they didn’t know it,” Derian added softly, “querinalo began to prey on the beasts who had once been immune. Interesting. So Virim may be dead. Perhaps Firekeeper does not need to look for him, then. Within another generation or two, querinalo may unravel all by itself, fade away into a terrible memory.”

Firekeeper shook her head. “I wish, but no. We need for now. If querinalo sometime go away, then good, but what for now, what for keeping of Nexus Islands. Did you forget this? Did you forget the people who look through gates at us?”

Derian shook his head ruefully. “I think that for a moment I may have done so. I’d like to forget, but you’re right. If we’re to hold the Nexus Islands, to keep them from being taken and used to invade the New World …”

“Or to facilitate invasion in the Old World,” Urgana cut in. “Don’t forget. That has been done before, and would be again.”

Derian nodded. “For whatever reason, we need to hold these islands or destroy the gates, and I’m reluctant to destroy the gates. They’re very useful, and, as we discussed before, we don’t have any guarantee that there aren’t unconnected gates that might be used.”

“Or newly created.” Urgana put in again. “You forget. The knowledge is there. If querinalo is indeed losing its fangs, then each year will see more and more powerful Once Dead surviving. Someday, they might not even need to ‘die’ to keep their power.”

Blind Seer said softly.
“She has never had querinalo or she would never say it has lost its fangs. Still, I can almost see the nightmare rising in her eves. I wonder if Virim was so wrong. Perhaps we need to find the source of querinalo and rather than destroying it, make it live and bite and kill once more.”

He spoke with such ferocity that Firekeeper could not even think of a reply. Instead, she moved closer to him, hating the arms of the chairs that kept her from fully embracing him.

She had forgotten that the Meddler understood Blind Seer’s speech as easily as he did various human tongues. When she looked at the translucent figure he was studying the blue-eyed wolf with interest.

“Blind Seer, you understand Virim’s impulses more intimately than I could ever,” he said, and the humans, none of whom had understood Blind Seer’s words, or even known he was speaking, looked puzzled. Firekeeper did not choose to enlighten them.

Blind Seer did not deign to reply, but stared through the Meddler as if he were not there.

Harjeedian was wise enough to know when not to ask questions. Instead, he cleared his throat.

“I agree with Derian that we need to try and hold these islands, to leave the gates intact for as long as possible. I also agree with Firekeeper that in order to do so, we need reinforcements, and to bring in reinforcements, we need to be able to counter querinalo. That means continuing on our given course.”

Everyone—even Blind Seer—nodded.

“Urgana and I will do library research,” Harjeedian said. “Derian, will you speak with Ynamynet? Tell her what we have learned here, and ask them to pursue oral history. I can’t believe that no one but Bhaharahma’s small group saw this vision if it is indeed significantly connected to querinalo.”

He paused, eyes narrowing as he considered a thought. “I don’t suppose any of you who suffered querinalo saw a similar vision?”

Derian shook his head. “The closest I came to a vision was one in which I talked to the Meddler, Truth, and Blind Seer.”

Firekeeper shook her head. “Not even that.”

Blind Seer raised a paw and hit the table with it so that there would be not the least doubt he was speaking.

“I did,”
he said.

He looked at Firekeeper.

“
Speak for me, as I speak
,” he said.

She nodded and began translating word for word as Blind Seer spoke, dreading what he would say, but knowing that if she did not give the wolf a voice, the Meddler would not be able to resist doing so. Given how he felt about the Meddler, Blind Seer might never forgive her.

“
I saw this figure,
” Blind Seer said.
“I saw this golden-hoofed, diamond-horned mountain sheep. It taunted me and I chased it. In one mad dream, I believe I even killed it.”

XVI

  BEFORE ANY OF the select group gathered in the archive room could ask a question, Blind Seer leapt down from the chair and bolted from the room.

“What was that about?” Derian asked. “He was really upset. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Blind Seer upset—not that way.”

Firekeeper looked over to where the Meddler stood. He was markedly translucent now, the characters printed on the spines of the books behind him distinct enough to read—if Firekeeper could have read.

The Meddler smiled at her, a wolf’s grin, showing many teeth, as much threat as anything.

“Virim,” he said, his voice a howling whisper. “Virim, after all these years. Astonishing.”

But Firekeeper wasn’t listening. Roughly, she knocked the chair in which she had been sitting to the floor. It fell with a thud against the carpet, but the seasoned hardwood didn’t crack.

“Firekeeper,” Derian said, “what’s going on?”

“You hear much as me,” she said, calling the words after her as she fled out the door into the fading light of day.

Had they been among the forests of the mainland, Firekeeper might never have found Blind Seer, but this was an island, an island on which Blind Seer could never outdistance her. She stood poised on the front porch of the headquarters building, scanning for sign of which way Blind Seer might have run. She found it in the black wings of a raven, soaring high, dipping like the winking of a human’s eye. There then, down below.

Firekeeper bolted in that direction, ignoring the curious looks many of the Nexans shot in her direction. None, however, tried to stop her. They probably thought she and Blind Seer were playing some game.

No game,
Firekeeper thought.
This is deadly serious, although I have no idea why Blind Seer is so upset.

At long last she found the blue-eyed wolf down on a length of pebble-strewn beach, snapping at the waves as they crashed down onto the shore. He was soaking wet.

He ran without knowing where he ran,
Firekeeper thought
. Unless the waves slapped him back, he might have run until he dropped.

Firekeeper slowed her pace, trotting to Blind Seer’s side, trying to make her pace say that she expected to be welcome, although in fact she was not certain at all. Glancing up, she saw the distant black spot of the raven against the sky and knew they were watched, but the distance was so great they might as well have been alone.

Good. Solitude was what they must have if she were to pry some explanation from Blind Seer.

“Hey,” she said, coming and dropping onto the course, damp sand, choosing a patch not too heavily strewn with pebbles.

Blind Seer did not acknowledge her except to heave out his breath in a manner that meant, “You’re here. What of it?” It was a very un-wolf-like attitude, for wolves are more rough and rambunctious in their greetings than otherwise.

Firekeeper remembered another time, another island, but then she had been the one nearly lost to something that had come from dreams. Blind Seer had sought her. She wasn’t going to leave him now, no matter how little he seemed to care about her presence.

She scooted closer, brushing pebbles away with her hand, pitching a few of the larger ones toward the water. They hit in silence, the sound of the waves overwhelming the small plops of their landing.

“You’re wet,” she said, reaching out and brushing Blind Seer’s scruff with her hand.

He gave no reply, not even to shake her away.

“You’re upset. You’ve been upset, one way or another, since querinalo came to you. Maybe even before.”

No reply.

Firekeeper reached to rub Blind Seer’s ear along the long guard hairs. It was one of his favorite caresses, and normally he would have leaned into it, but today she might as well have been stroking stone. Wet furry stone, but no more yielding.

She kept talking. The world was reduced to this little stretch of ocean-washed beach, to the crash of the waves, to the silent wolf beside her.