Wolf's Blood (45 page)

Firekeeper ignored the taunt, hearing the affection that underlay it.

“There is that,” she agreed. “There is also the fact that Blind Seer and I are widely traveled. I do not know what resources Virim has, but I suspect we have been places where he has not gone, places where even those who know how to use magic to extend their ability to see cannot go.”

“The Nexus Islands,” Blind Seer mused aloud. “Yes. The Meddler told us that he could not see into them, even though otherwise his vision stretches into strange reaches indeed.”

“The Meddler?” Elation said. “I have not heard of this one. Is it one of these maimalodalum of whom the yarimaimaiom speak?”

“I wish the Meddler was so simple to explain,” Firekeeper said. “I will tell you another time, but I think that I would rather not speak of him where we might be overheard.”

Elation, who had been rucking her feathers in displeasure, smoothed them flat.

“Another thing, then,” she said, “about which there might be curiosity.”

“Precisely,” Firekeeper said.

She did not think any Beast could creep close enough to overhear them without either Blind Seer or Elation noticing, but there was no being certain. And who knew what Virim might be capable of doing? Elation’s tale had implied that once Virim had not known how to understand the speech of the Beasts, but in a hundred years and more he surely would have worked to overcome that impediment. Best to be very careful, and if they were overheard? Well, that might be the scent to awaken hungry curiosity.

“And if curiosity is not enough to draw someone to us?” Elation asked.

“Then we still have the option of working our way into their lair,” Firekeeper said, “or of forcing them out.”

“And if Virim uses magic against us?” Elation asked. “What then? Remember, this is the one whose spell slew those who imagined themselves untouchable.”

“He cannot use querinalo against us,” Firekeeper said. “We have met that challenge and beaten it flat. As for other magics? I don’t know for certain. I carry iron on me, and, if you and Blind Seer permit, I will find a way for you to carry some on you so that you may be somewhat protected against spells. If that is not enough, well …”

Blind Seer rose and stretched, giving Firekeeper and Elation a gap-jawed, panting wolf’s smile.

“If that is not enough, then we were doomed from before we made this run. If our only choice is to turn around and run back to the Nexus Islands, then tell those who trusted us that we ran because we had heard the buck was large and had a heavy rack, well, I think I’d rather be gored.”

Brave words,
Firekeeper thought,
from a brave heart. I hope we do not come to regret them.

XXII

  DERIAN WATCHED THE rising moon as he walked his path among the various gate buildings. His senses were keyed to alertness, but not because he had any reason to expect any trouble. Indeed, the gates had remained quiet for so long now that there were those who thought the patrols were a waste of time, that the Old World nations had accepted that the gates were closed to them.

But happily for Derian, Ynamynet was not one of those who felt thus, and as long as she continued to support the watches, Derian knew that they would continue. The Wise Beasts also continued to support the patrols, sending representatives from among their number to join the community. Most of these were from among the winged folk, and when Derian had wondered why, Eshinarvash had explained.

“Spring is a busy time for packs and herds. Not only are there young to be raised and guarded, but winter has worn away the last fat and the grass is not so thick—nor the herds so plump—that this is easily rebuilt. Later, when summer makes all plentiful, I would not be surprised to see the wolves and bears and great cats show willing to come here again.”

“But the winged folk? Don’t they have the same needs?”

“Not all,” Eshinarvash said. “Many avians go through periods where they are not yet interested in mating and establishing territory. They mob about in flocks with other young birds, learning their limits. Many of those who have risked querinalo to come here are such. The winged folk also have another advantage over the rest of us.”

“What’?”

“They can travel over great distances, even over water, with relatively good speed and little inconvenience. Those who have crossed to the Nexus Islands through the gates have made another stop first—one that explains why none among them has fallen to querinalo.”

“They’re going to Misheemnekuru,” Derian exclaimed. “They’re having the maimalodalum inspect them to see if they sense any whiff of a magical talent!”

“That is so,” Eshinarvash said. “I believe Plik suggested the course of action to Bitter and Lovable, and they, in turn, have made clear that only those who have been checked first should cross.”

“I wish we could do that with humans,” Derian said wistfully. “We could use some new recruits, but we can’t use the same process, not as long as the maimalodalum choose to remain in isolation.”

“Even if the maimalodalum did not,” Eshinarvash reminded him with a snort, “they cannot be everywhere at once, and most certainly they cannot come here. That would be too dangerous.”

Derian nodded, remembering how Plik had lost his own talent to querinalo.

“So we must rely on Firekeeper finding something out, and so far there is no sign of her or Blind Seer.”

“It is far too early,” Eshinarvash reminded him. “They are fast travelers, but they have a long way to go.”

“I know,” Derian said. “I know.”

Derian thought all of this over as he paced his route among the gates. It seemed like Firekeeper had been gone forever, but actually hardly more than a moonspan had passed. Enigma made his daily checks, and although sometimes he found Grateful Peace or Citrine bearing some gift or perhaps a note on which they had written some question, the puma had not seen nor smelled either of the wolves.

From time to time, Harjeedian had sought omens as he had been trained, but they were inconclusive. The jaguar, Truth, had given the aridisdu assurance that his skills were not at fault.

“Firekeeper,” she had said through Plik’s translation, “has never been one for whom the omen stream runs steady. Even I at my greatest, in my year, Could not trace her course with any ease.”

Truth would say little more on the matter, other than to offer reassurance that she had seen none of the ripples that would certainly occur if Firekeeper were to die. With this, they were forced to be content.

The moon rose higher, and Derian listened with more and more care, but not, he knew, because he expected any trouble. Isende had continued to join him when the night patrol fell to him, walking with him sometimes for hours.

Sometimes he wondered that they kept finding things to talk about, and he would do his best to prepare something in advance just in case Isende might think he was bored and decide to take her leave early. This never happened, though. Story after story poured out of both of them, ranging between the trivial and the profound with illogical facility.

One night they might begin by discussing childhood games, and end by confessing old fears they had never outgrown. Another night they might start with something profound—such. as Derian’s never-resolved fear that his family would reject him or Isende’s still unrealized hope that some small gem of magical ability had escaped querinalo’s fire—and end up making puns in the mishmash of Pellish and Liglimosh, flavored with a heavy salting of five or six other languages, that was becoming the common language of the Nexus Islands.

Derian never knew what would happen, but he knew he’d miss Isende if for some reason she couldn’t join him.

And we’ve done nothing yet but talk,
Derian marveled
. Well, talk and hold hands a little. I’ve thought about kissing her, and about doing a lot more than kissing her, but I can’t seem to manage.

There were good reasons for his reluctance. Derian was fairly certain that Isende wasn’t repulsed by his physical form, but strangely enough Derian himself still was. He avoided his reflection, and went out of his way not to look at himself. That was fairly easy to do. With resources rationed, just about everyone dressed and undressed in the dark, but Derian knew he took the matter to extremes. He swam or bathed after dark as well, didn’t look at his hands when he was writing, and even avoided his shadow.

This was a great change from his previous self. He’d had his share of lovers, casual and serious, and while he had never been vain about his appearance, he’d been content enough with what he had to offer to not shy from either making or accepting advances.

But Derian’s own insecurities were only part of the problem. Another was that even when he was ostensibly alone with Isende, say on one of these patrols, there was always someone near. At night it was usually one of the yarimaimalom; tonight a pair of owls. He didn’t think they would be repulsed by human physical interaction, but unlike some of the humans on the Nexus Islands, Derian never forgot that the Beasts were as intelligent and inquisitive—and gossipy—as their human associates.

Then there was Tiniel. The young man had not come out and said directly that he disapproved of Isende’s interest in Derian, but his very silence on the subject, and how he avoided any but the most routine contact with Derian, made his feelings quite plain.

From his talks with Isende, Derian knew that she and Tiniel had been almost impossibly close since birth, linked not so much in thought as by an emotional bond. Querinalo had severed this, and while Isende was content, even relieved, by the change, Tiniel still mourned the loss.

So why doesn’t Tiniel find himself another confidant?
Derian mused
,
almost angrily
. He’s not a bad-looking fellow, and there are some unattached women not too far from his age. If he’s not interested in romance, he could at least make a few friends. I think the only person he talks to at all regularly is Plik.

Footsteps sounded on the graveled path leading up the hillside, and Derian felt his breath catch. He knew those footsteps and felt they matched the excited beating of his heart.

Isende topped the hillside a moment later.

“Looking for me?” Derian asked, trying to sound teasing, and hoping he didn’t sound plaintive instead.

“I just might be,” Isende replied, orienting on his voice, and making her way toward him.

The moon had risen enough that its waxing crescent made a torch or candle unnecessary, even for Isende’s unaltered eyes. Grudgingly, Derian had to admit that one thing that had improved since his transformation was his night vision, and now he enjoyed watching Isende almost skip over to him.

“Any trouble?” she asked, rising on her toes to kiss him lightly on one cheek.

“All quiet,” he replied, wishing he could manage the same casual affection. He thought, though, he’d either balk at the last moment or crush her to him and never let go. He’d do better to avoid either.

He settled for reaching out a hand.

“Path’s rough here,” he said, feeling her slim fingers slip between his. “Let me help.”

They walked then, hand in hand, chattering softly, overflown by silent winged owls who kept watch over their human allies—and the gates—with wordless satisfaction.

FIREKEEPER WAS RUNNING, but her paws were touching clouds. The clouds felt good against her pads, for she was footsore and tired.

Stirring up curiosity was proving to be hard work. For the last several days, she, Blind Seer, and Elation had been doing just that. Although they had been very, very aware of eyes watching them from cloudless skies and beneath the thickening greenery of the forest, those eyes had all been those of Beasts. No one had come forth from the keep built deep into the heavy granite of the foothills, no one they could pounce and pin, and so hold that they might ask questions.

Firekeeper felt hands gripping her shoulders, anchoring firmly in the loose skin, pulling slightly against the fur. The grasp was tight, but not so tight as to restrict movement. She felt weight now, too, now that she thought about it. Weight as if a human sat upon her back, straddling her as humans did horses.

She sniffed with her keen wolf’s nose, but even when she cut a circle in the air so that she could catch her own trail she smelled no one. Only one person of her acquaintance had no scent, and by this lack of scent, Firekeeper knew both who rode upon her and that she was dreaming.

“Hey, Meddler,” she called, and her voice held a wolf’s howl. “Why are you running in my dreams?”

“Because it’s the best way to show you a few things you need to know—at least the best way that won’t involve upsetting Blind Seer, and you wouldn’t want me to do that, would you?”

The Meddler’s tone was mocking and sardonic as ever, but Firekeeper didn’t let that bother her. She appreciated the courtesy. The great gulf of silence that had separated her from her beloved had closed some over the last moonspan or so, bridged in part by confession and in part by acceptance, but she would be the first to admit this was a shaky bridge, strung on spiderwebs and planked with ice.