Wolf's Blood (79 page)

Firekeeper said, “Wolves take weak first, but humans might take strong and hope that herd goes to pieces. Either way, this Hurwin is wise. I have report, too, me and …”

She paused, looked at the mountain sheep. her head tilted in inquiry.

“I not know what to call. Is Virim. Is Meddler.”

The mountain sheep spoke in a flat version of Liglimosh in which the plosives were almost missing.

“I am both, but mostly the Meddler. If you would take this wire off of me. I would be more comfortable, and might find it possible to return to a human form. That would be useful for many reasons.”

Plik thought it was probably a good thing that Harjeedian was occupied with treating the wounded alongside Zebel. Surely the aridisdu would not have been able to resist expressing fear and revulsion at finding the Meddler even so strangely reembodied.

Firekeeper, however, seemed beyond revulsion. Her wounded arm was clean now, and she had anointed and wrapped it. Blind Seer, his ministering done, reserved his comment to raised hackles.

Wearily, the wolf-woman looked at Ynamynet.

“You is wise in magic. I leave this deciding to you. Blind Seer say where defending this place is considered, you is to be trusted. Do we unbind Meddler or no?”

Ynamynet’s lips twisted in a wry smile at this mixed compliment, but said nothing. Instead she bit a drop of blood from the edge of her finger and traced a complex pattern in the air. When that was done, she addressed her attention to the mountain sheep.

“What do you have to offer us if we let you free of those wires? I can see considerable power, but arrayed in what I must—for lack of better words—call layers. The wire is keeping the topmost layer in check, and I think until that is released you would find doing any but elementary spells quite difficult, and even those would use impressive amounts of power.”

The mountain sheep replied with disarming honestly.

“The few I have done I could not have done if Firekeeper had not let me have use of some of her shed blood. Without the wire, I can tap some of the power Virim has stored within him, but eventually I will need either another such source or access to blood.”

“If we find ourselves fighting again,” Ynamynet said, “blood should be readily available. What is this about stored power?”

The Meddler shifted restlessly. “This is neither time nor place for long lectures in magical theory. However, you do not think blood magic is the only form there is?”

“It is the only form—other than talents—I know how to use,” Ynamynet replied. “But I have heard tales of other forms. Some of these use power sources worse than blood.”

“And some do not,” the Meddler countered. “Virim gathered a great deal of power to him, both through the medium of querinalo and through complex rituals that were once taught at places like Azure Towers. Do you wish me to waste time telling you more? I warn you. I agree with what has already been said. The invaders will attack again—when, I cannot say, but I do not think this King Hurwin will give us time to completely rebuild our losses.”

Ynamynet looked as if she were at war with herself, but the immediacy of their need clearly won out over other considerations.

“Very well. You are right. This is not the time for theoretical discussions. What will you do if we unbind you?”

“Whatever Firekeeper commands, within the best of my ability to do so,” the Meddler answered promptly. “I gave her my word that if she aided me, I would aid her. Her goal from the start has been the defeat of querinalo. I cannot do that, but I can do two things that will be of considerable help.

“First, I can tell you who does and does not possess magical ability. This will enable you to bring through reinforcements, if you so choose. Second. I can proof one or two who do possess talent against querinalo’s curse. I wish I could lift the curse in its entirety, but even with Virim’s memories to tap I would find this difficult to do without further study.”

“Virim’s memories?” Derian asked sharply. “Is he dead then and you have taken his place?”

“He is not dead,” the Meddler replied. “He is hiding … again, this is a matter best left for later discussion. Suffice that I can help you, if you will let me help you.”

Ynamynet looked at Firekeeper. “He says he will answer to you.”

“And I follow you, in this,” Firekeeper said. “Where is magic, you is One. I am pup. Even Blind Seer say this.”

Ynamynet’s smile this time was open and as warm as it ever became. Then she grew serious as she studied the mountain sheep.

“I cannot say I am exactly thrilled with working in compromise with the power that destroyed my people, that scarred myself and my family, but this is a time for compromises. Firekeeper, unbind the mountain sheep, and I will do my best to help you weigh the merits of whatever plan he suggests.”

“Is all,” the wolf-woman said, moving to untwist the wire about the diamond-horned mountain sheep’s legs, “we can ask or hope.”

AS FIRE KEEPER UNBOUND the mountain sheep—or Virim—or the Meddler—Derian’s head swam at the complexities of such a chaotic identity. He glanced up the gateway hillside, taking reassurance from seeing Eshinarvash standing calm and steady.

The Wise Horse had promised to warn Derian if the least thing went wrong up by the gates, and seeing him waiting, lipping the grass that thrust up from between the worn paving stones, Derian felt that here was a stability to balance the chaos a few steps away from him.

A gasp from someone—he thought perhaps Xaha—drew his attention back to the small gathering. Derian swung around, reaching for his sword, but before he could draw it. he saw that this was something for which no sword was needed—at least not yet.

The mountain sheep was blurred—there was no other term for it. Within that blurring, a gradual metamorphosis was under way. The figure was elongating, the limbs growing longer, the torso becoming more cylindrical, less barrel-like. As Derian watched, the mountain sheep turned into an elderly man with an unkempt grey beard that reached to the middle of his chest, lined skin, and pale, all too knowing eyes. He wore a tunic that strongly resembled the mountain sheep’s wooly hide, dark brown woven trousers, and comfortable slippers. Last to vanish were the curling diamond horns, which remained jutting from the man’s skull for a sparkling moment after the transition was complete.

“What you do, Meddler?” Firekeeper said, her voice dropping into a growl that matched Blind Seer’s own.

“I am,” the Meddler said, his voice thinner and quavering, as it was projected by the elderly chest and throat of his new form, but still somehow recognizably his own, “keeping my promise to you. I told you that Virim had hoarded power, and that I would turn that power to your cause. Some of that power was being used to keep him in the mountain sheep’s form. By returning to this form, not only do I preserve that power, I gain the ability to communicate easily with all those here. That, too, should assist you.”

Firekeeper studied him. “You look some like older Bruck.”

“No great surprise there,” the Meddler commented. “Bruck was an image of Virim when he was younger, before he committed to the course of action that would create querinalo.”

The old man glanced from side to side, then moved with great care toward a large stone.

“If you don’t mind. I’ll just seat myself here. This body is in a bit better condition than it looks—but only a bit.”

There was no comment as the Meddler settled himself onto the rock with some small grunts and a few popping joints. Then he looked around the gathered group and gave them a sunny smile.

He kept all his teeth,
Derian thought.
And alive for what must be something like a hundred and fifty years—no, more. Amazing … and frightening.

Ynamynet had turned to face the transformed Meddler, and now she spoke, her tone so matter-of-fact that it was a statement that she, at least, was not about to be impressed until something more had been done.

“I have been thinking about what you said before—about how you could check someone to see if they had any magical talent, and how if they did you could proof them against querinalo so they could come here without risking infection. You would need to see them in person to do this?”

“That is so.”

Ynamynet nodded and turned her attention to the group at large. “I have a thought about who we might ask to aid us.”

“Who?” Firekeeper asked.

“Grateful Peace of New Kelvin.”

“Peace? What he do?”

Ynamynet’s answer was indirect. “I have been thinking. One of our problems is that we face invasion from two points. We have already seen what the fleet can do. We suspect that our opponents will attempt an assault through the gates as well. Hopefully, they won’t get through. Even if they do not. however, the fleet remains a threat. I have been wondering if Grateful Peace might not provide us with the means to stop that threat.”

“How?” Derian asked. “New Kelvin is landlocked and possesses no navy. Even if it did, we could not get the ships through here. Do you think Peace might be able to recruit soldiers to fight for us? That’s possible, and certainly the New Kelvinese would be less likely than any other New World nation to react negatively to the idea of magical gates, but Grateful Peace isn’t their ruler. He does have the Healed One’s favor, but still …”

Ynamynet raised one thin hand, and Derian realized that he’d been babbling, all his thoughts and worries flooding out as soon as Ynamynet raised the dam.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about this.”

“I can tell,” she replied. “Remember, I have visited with Grateful Peace several times after he requested opportunity to meet someone from the Old World. During one of these visits, I mentioned to him the research we were doing regarding the sea monsters that legend tells us once patrolled these waters. Grateful Peace’s expression became distant, so distant that I thought I might have offended him.

“When I apologized, he shook himself slightly and said. ‘I’m sorry. I was thinking about things I have … heard. I think you may indeed have a productive course of action there.’ He would not say any more about it, but later Derian related something about the events surrounding what he called the Dragon of Despair. He mentioned that Grateful Peace was the one who ultimately rescued his land and his ruler from the creature. Combining these two things, I have wondered if Grateful Peace is what was called in my homeland a Dragon Speaker.”

“Dragon Speaker?” Firekeeper said, startled. “That is the one who rules New Kelvin with Healed One. How did your land know him?”

Ynamynet looked puzzled for a moment, then she replied, “I suspect that the title, as with so much in New Kelvin, was adapted from one already in use in the Old World. The First Healed One seems to have been one who understood the power of words, especially words that resonate with former, potent usage.”

Firekeeper shrugged. “If you so say. I believe. So you think that Peace can speak with dragons. I think he can. What is that to Nexus Islands?”

“What if Grateful Peace can speak to other creatures as well?” Ynamynet said eagerly. “What if those sea monsters are still here, still in these waters? What if they can be awakened to take up their duties as guardians once again? Not only would we no longer need to worry about the fleet, but we might be able to keep a channel clear so that the Bound could be brought through from that other gate.”

Derian considered this, his initial excitement blending into apprehension. When he had told the tale of the Dragon of Despair, he had mentioned that Grateful Peace had won the victory, but Peace had not mentioned the price he had paid to do so. Surely, he could not be asked to take such a risk again. He was already an old man. and working as a Dragon Speaker of any sort would certainly be a risk.

From Firekeeper’s expression, she, too, had thought of this, but her wolf-influenced attitude was different than Deerian’s own.

“We could ask Peace.” she said. ‘If Nexus Islands fall, and New Kelvin is attacked. Peace will speak to dragons sure enough rather than see his pack be harmed. This might be a way to save him from that.”

Ynamynet did not ask any of the many questions that were obviously begging to be answered, restricting herself to a simple, “Do we try this, or do we consider other ways that the Meddler’s abilities may be turned to our advantage?”

“Reluctant as I am,” Derian said, “I think I agree with Firekeeper. Grateful Peace must be given the opportunity to decide on which front he will defend his people. However, I want to ask him myself.”

“You?” Ynamynet said. “You have refused to be seen by him to this point. Why would that change?”

“Because Peace has to see what he is risking.” Derian said simply. “I am sure the Meddler will do his best to assure that querinalo doesn’t get its claws into anyone we bring through the gates, but he himself admitted that he’s only had a short time to digest Virim’s lore.”

“Fair.” Ynamynet agreed. “Grateful Peace has regularly checked in at the gate. He is likely to be there at the assigned time today.”

“Then,” Derian glanced back up the hillside, “if nothing else happens today. I’ll go through.”

“Me, too!” Firekeeper said. “I would like to see Peace and Citrine.”

“No,” Derian said firmly. “You stay here and mind the Meddler.”

Firekeeper looked at the old man sitting on the boulder, and frowned. He smiled back at her all wise innocence.

“Yes,” Firekeeper said. resting her hand on Blind Seer’s back. “We watch the Meddler. Blind Seer and I.”

NOTHING HAPPENED TO interrupt Derian’s plans, so at midday, still armed and armored, he had Enigma take him through the gate into New Kelvin. The puma then curled up in a ball in front of the gate, and apparently fell instantly asleep.

A familiar voice greeted Derian before he had taken more than a few steps.

“Derian Counselor.” There was a long pause: then. “Yes. Derian Counselor. You have changed, but I still know you.”

Grateful Peace, lantern in hand. Citrine walking beside him, came from the sheltered alcove from which he had been watching.