Wolf's Blood (37 page)

“Please,” he said, “follow me. I believe you have much to tell me, and I believe I have a piece or two of information that will interest you as well.”

XVIII

  FIREKEEPER ACCEPTED WATER and the dish of highland strawberries Citrine brought in for her. There was a shallow dish of water for Blind Seer, as well, but Citrine’s expression as she turned to her adopted father was unhappy.

“There is no raw meat,” she said, “only cooked. If I go to the market and buy raw meat, especially after sending the servants away … I only had to dismiss the cook, and she was glad enough to go, but still, it may raise questions.”

Grateful Peace inclined his head in approval. “Well thought. Even though no one saw our visitors arrive, someone might wonder.”

Remembering the elaborate spy networks in New Kelvin, Firekeeper knew what the pair were discussing. Again she was pleased by this evidence that Citrine was receiving a good—if rather odd by the standards of her class and culture—education.

She hastened to reassure them. “We are fed, well fed before leaving.”

“Then I think we can dispense with supplying a meal, Citrine,” Grateful Peace said.

The girl took a seat from which she could watch both Grateful Peace and the two wolves. She had brought strawberries for herself and Grateful Peace, and now offered a small pitcher of cream. Firekeeper accepted, for although they had cattle on the Nexus Islands, most of the cream was reserved for cooking.

“Berries is very good,” she said. “Sweet. There are none like these where I come from.”

“Would you like to tell me where that is?” Grateful Peace said. “I am no longer a member of the Dragon’s Three, nor do I hold any official position. This dwelling and the other privileges I enjoy are the Healed One’s reward to me for performing a task few know even exists.”

Firekeeper hid a shiver. She knew what that task was, and the cost exacted from Grateful Peace for performing it.

“Before you sympathize too much,”
Blind Seer said dryly,
“notice that he has not said he would keep whatever you told him in confidence. He has only implied that this would be so. Get a promise, and make him tell you how he knew the gate was being used before being too free with what we can tell, otherwise we will have no teeth left when the time comes for us to bite.”

Firekeeper laid her hand on the wolf’s shoulder in mute thanks for his counsel, and smiled.

“Is good that Healed One treat you so well,” she said. “That means he is good One, and that he knows a well-fed hunter remains strong for the next hunt. I like Toriovico, and I think he be more interested than disturbed in what I can say. Still, I think I must ask that you and Citrine promise not to say or to write or in any way give sniff or scent or howl of what Blind Seer and I tell.”

Grateful Peace beamed, an expression so unfamiliar to Firekeeper that she found herself blinking in astonishment.

“Wherever you have been since you were stolen away from Hawk Haven, you have learned a great deal about diplomacy. No more leap for the throat of the problem, I see.”

Firekeeper nodded. “I have learned that not all problems are solved by this way. Some are better served by hunting around the edges.”

“I am pleased,” Grateful Peace said. “Your more impulsive ventures have not always been kind to you or your allies.”

Firekeeper nodded. “Is true. Am glad you is pleased, but still you and Citrine have not give me your word not to tell.”

Grateful Peace considered. “As long as you do not tell me something that will immediately weaken the security of New Kelvin …”

“Or Bright Haven,” Citrine piped in.

“Then we will listen and keep what you tell us to ourselves. We will not relate it in speech or writing or in any other form of communication known to human or Beast, and we will take care not to be overheard or detected in matters related to whatever you choose to confide.”

Firekeeper glanced at Blind Seer.

“Seems reasonable,”
the wolf replied.
“Offer him a morsel to tease his appetite, then ask him how he came to know about the gate.”

“I accept your words,” Firekeeper said formally. “You ask from where we come. We come from an island that is a place where a long time ago the Old World sorcerers made many gates. Place is in Old World, but far from other places in Old World, so is only place in Old World we have been.”

Remembering how the New Kelvinese remained among the few residents of the New World to recall the Old with any longing, she stopped there, thinking this was enough.

“How did you come to this island of gates?” Peace asked.

Firekeeper shook her head. “Our question, now. Like you, Blind Seer and I promise not to speak of anything you tell us unless it touches those we is promised to protect.”

Grateful Peace nodded. “Fair enough. Tell me, was this time the first the gate had been activated?”

“Once before,” Firekeeper replied, not liking this answering her question with another question, but thinking Peace might have a reason beyond merely attempting to gain something more before giving anything away. “Just to test.”

“That is what I thought,” Grateful Peace said. “How did I know? The dragon told me.”

Firekeeper looked at the thaumaturge in horror. She knew the price the dragon Peace held bound had extracted for its services. It seemed a high price to pay for so little.

Grateful Peace correctly assessed her expression, and hastened to reassure her.

“No, I haven’t started spending what years remain to me lightly,” he said. “Would you be surprised if I told you that in some odd way I think the dragon has come to like me?”

“Yes. Is not a liking creature, from what I remember.”

Grateful Peace nodded. “True, but what you encountered was the monster unbound after long, long years of isolation. There was a reason that those few legends that recalled it named it ‘the Dragon of Despair.’ However, more apt was the name we learned later, ‘the Despairing Dragon.’ I cannot say that the creature is anything like a comfortable, easy force to have linked to me, and it still extracts the price it made me offer. However, it volunteers bits of knowledge from time to time.”

“I wonder why?”
Blind Seer asked.

Firekeeper repeated the question aloud.

Grateful Peace considered. “I believe I amuse it, now. Initially, I believe there was some malice involved.”

Firekeeper glanced over at Citrine, wondering how much the girl knew of all this, but the still rounded features were placid, unguarded, and yet gave nothing away.

Grateful Peace went on. “I doubt you will ever forget the terms by which the dragon was bound.”

Firekeeper had not, having nearly offered herself as the one who would hold the other side of that bargain.

“The cost,” Peace said, “even for holding the dragon is high, but if one wishes to draw on the dragon’s powers, the price is higher still. Melina, Consolor to the Healed One, thought she had found a way to use the dragon, and yet to avoid paying the price.”

Again Firekeeper glanced at Citrine. The girl gave her a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, Firekeeper. You’ve been away a long time. I really have learned to accept my mother for what she was. What Peace is saying isn’t hurting me.”

Firekeeper relaxed. One thing she thought was good about being a wolf is that no one ever thought ill of friend for being concerned about friend.

Peace smiled at his adopted daughter. “Citrine makes me very proud. But, I was speaking of the dragon. I sincerely believe the dragon did not expect me to leave it alone. It expected that some time or another, the temptation to draw upon its powers to make myself more feared or influential would arise. I did not, even when demonstrating the force I had at my command would have made my life easier, for many were displeased to see one they had seen branded a traitor now so high in the Healed One’s favor. Many did not trust my honesty and fidelity to my native land.”

Citrine interrupted. “It didn’t help that he adopted me, either. They thought he was doing something political. They couldn’t forget that my sister is queen of Hawk Haven.”

“They still don’t forget,” Peace said fondly, “but I think they have grown more accustomed to the idea.”

Firekeeper nodded. “Is like me. No one forget I am wolf, but now everyone is so used to this that they would think stranger if I suddenly was not wolf.”

“Correct,” Peace said. “In any case, when the dragon realized I was not going to draw on its powers, it tried tempting me with what you might call free tastes or samples of what it could do. I continued to resist. In time I think the dragon came to respect my restraint. I think it also came to realize that I was not using its powers not only because of the price I would pay, but also—and more importantly—because I respected it as a creature of free will, one who should not be treated as a tool. So while we are not friends, I think in a strange fashion we have become allies.

“When the dragon informed me that a gate long dormant beneath Thendulla Lypella had been used, I thanked it. I located the gate from old maps and a few hints the dragon granted me. A short while ago, the dragon hinted that the gate was going to be used again, and I hurried down to greet whoever or whatever should come forth.”

Firekeeper considered the length of the ritual used to open the gate, and thought that if the dragon informed Peace just when the ritual began, the timing would work.

“What you do if not me, or someone harmless like me?” she asked.

“I would never insult you and Blind Seer by referring to either of you as harmless,” Peace said with a dry chuckle. “But I understand your question. There are barriers built into the tunnels along there. The previous day I had inspected them, and done some minor repairs to make certain they would still function. That was one reason why we stood where we did. If something less inclined to be friendly had come through that portal, the barriers would have been lowered immediately.”

“You not tell Toriovico, the Healed One, of the gate?”

Peace smiled. “I did not. I prefer not to mention my moderated relationship with the dragon, and although I might have come up with an elaborate explanation that would suit the situation, I prefer not to lie to my monarch. I did, however, leave a full explanation locked away where it would be found if I vanished, thereby fulfilling my responsibilities to my ruler.”

Firekeeper nodded. “Good. Gates are dangerous, once someone knows how to open. Now, I answer you.”

As briefly as she could, although with inevitable interruptions and requests for clarification, Firekeeper gave a true account of how they had found the first gate, where it had led them, and what they had done to secure their hold. For now, she said nothing of the Meddler, nor of querinalo, nor did she give a very precise idea where the Setting Sun stronghold might be found. The New Kelvinese were not a seagoing people, but the Waterlanders to the east were almost as home at sea as on land, and their services could quite possibly be bought with such interesting information.

Firekeeper didn’t think either Grateful Peace or the Healed One would invade a land so far from their own, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

Her throat was dry and she was very tired of talking when she finished her account. However, she knew Grateful Peace too well to think he had not noticed the gaps in her tale. She waited for his questions, and was surprised when he neglected to examine her evasions and instead came to the present moment.

“And what brings you here?” he asked. “Is there something in New Kelvin you need or desire?”

“Not New Kelvin,” Firekeeper said. “I not think. West of mountains, but New Kelvin was closest to start. Save moonspans and moonspans of walking.”

“I see, and what would you have done if the gate had been somewhere more public?”

Firekeeper smiled. “We think this, but gates not usually public. Old World rulers prefer to be like shadows, come and go, no one but their own know how, especially to here in New World where they wish to keep colonists not so knowing how they do what they do.”

“There is an element of sense in that,” Grateful Peace agreed. “Wonder and awe can control a population as or more easily than force. Some would have known the secret, but their rulers would certainly have made certain that they were either in no position to tell, or had ample incentive not to tell. But I stray from the point. Why are you so interested in this nameless place to the northwest?”

Firekeeper’s allies had agreed that on this point, as on so many others, some version of the truth was preferable.

“There is a sickness in the Old World,” she said. “Harjeedian and others have looked much at old papers and things, and they think this sickness may have come from the New World first, but be worse for people of Old World.”

She paused, struggling for the correct words. The concept was not an easy one to explain given her limited vocabulary. Happily, Peace seemed to understand her already.

“I see,” he said. “We in New Kelvin know something of this. Waterland’s climate is very different from our own, for all that we share a border. Their land is wet, and in summer there are many miasmas and fevers that do not occur here. We have observed that while those born in Waterland are not necessarily immune to these sicknesses, what makes them merely feverish can kill one of our people.”